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diff --git a/7803-h/7803-h.htm b/7803-h/7803-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..13bf59e --- /dev/null +++ b/7803-h/7803-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6286 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of The Story of Sugar, by Sara Ware Bassett +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.contents {text-indent: -3%; + margin-left: 5% } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.transnote {text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.intro {font-size: 90% ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Sugar, by Sara Ware Bassett + +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 + + +Title: The Story of Sugar + +Author: Sara Ware Bassett + +Posting Date: March 27, 2014 [EBook #7803] +Release Date: April, 2005 +First Posted: May 18, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SUGAR *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland, Ted Garvin +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version +by Al Haines. + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p class="t3"> +<br /><br /><br /> +[Illustration: "Sugar it is, then!"] +</p> + +<h1> +<br /><br /><br /> +The Story of Sugar +</h1> + +<p class="t3b"> +BY +</p> + +<p class="t2"> +SARA WARE BASSETT +</p> + +<p class="t4"> +Author of +<br /> + "The Story of Lumber"<br /> + "The Story of Wool"<br /> + "The Story of Leather"<br /> + "The Story of Glass"<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> +ILLUSTRATED BY C. P. GRAY +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t3"> + <i>To my cousin</i><br /> + <i>William Pittman Huxley</i><br /> + <i>this book is affectionately inscribed</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="letter"> +It gives me much pleasure to acknowledge the courtesy of the +American Sugar Refining Company, and also the kindness of Senator +Truman G. Palmer, of Washington, D. C. +<br /><br /> +S. W. B. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +CONTENTS +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +I. <a href="#chap01">COLVERSHAM</a><br /> +II. <a href="#chap02">A NARROW ESCAPE</a><br /> +III. <a href="#chap03">SUGARING OFF</a><br /> +IV. <a href="#chap04">THE REFINERY</a><br /> +V. <a href="#chap05">VAN SPRINGS A SURPRISE</a><br /> +VI. <a href="#chap06">A FAMILY TANGLE</a><br /> +VII. <a href="#chap07">MR. CARLTON MAKES A WAGER AND WINS</a><br /> +VIII. <a href="#chap08">VAN MUTINIES</a><br /> +IX. <a href="#chap09">VAN'S GREAT DEED</a><br /> +X. <a href="#chap10">HOW VAN BORE HIS PUNISHMENT</a><br /> +XI. <a href="#chap11">THE BOYS MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE</a><br /> +XII. <a href="#chap12">THE DAWN OF A NEW YEAR</a><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t3b"> +Illustrations +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"SUGAR IT IS, THEN!" +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"I DON'T REMEMBER THAT BIG ROCK" +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"I SHOULD THINK IT WOULD STICK TOGETHER" +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"IT IS NO EASY TASK" +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +NO HORN HAD GIVEN WARNING +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"THESE TANKS ARE CONNECTED" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t2"> +THE STORY OF SUGAR +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER I +</h3> + +<h3> +COLVERSHAM +</h3> + +<p> +"Oh, say, Bobbie, quit that algebra and come on out! You've stuck at +it a full hour already. What's the use of cramming any more? You'll +get through the exam all right; you know you always do," protested +Van Blake as he flipped a scrap of blotting paper across the study +table at his roommate. +</p> + +<p> +Bob Carlton looked up from his book. "Perhaps you're right, Van," he +replied, "but you see I can't be too sure on this stuff. Math isn't +my strong point, and I simply must not fall down on it; if I should +flunk it would break my father all up." +</p> + +<p> +"You flunk! I'd like to see you doing it." Van smiled derisively. +"When you fall down on an exam the rest of us better give up. You +know perfectly well you'll get by. You are always worrying your head +off when there's no earthly need of it. Now look at me. If there is +any worrying to be done I'm the one that ought to be doing it. Do I +look fussed? You don't catch your uncle losing any sleep over his +exams—and yet I generally manage to scrape along, too." +</p> + +<p> +"I know you do—you old eel!" Bob glanced admiringly at his friend. +"I believe you just wriggle by on the strength of your grin." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if you are such a believer in a grin why don't you cultivate +one yourself and see how far it will carry you?" chuckled Van. "The +trouble with you, Bobbie, is your conscience; you ought to be +operated on for it. Why are you so afraid you won't get good marks +all the time?" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not afraid; but I'd be ashamed if I didn't," was the serious +reply. "I promised my father that if he'd let me come to Colversham +to school I'd do my best, and I mean to. It costs a pile of money +for him to send me here, and it's only decent of me to hold up my +end of the bargain." +</p> + +<p> +Van Cortlandt Blake stretched his arms and gazed thoughtfully down +at the ruler he was twirling in his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +"Bobbie, you're a trump; I wish more fellows were like you. The +difference between us is that while I perfectly agree with you I sit +back and talk about it; you go ahead and do something. It's rotten +of me not to work harder down here. I know my father is sore on it, +and every time he writes I mean to take a brace and do better—honest +I do, no kidding. But you know how it goes. Somebody wants me on the +ball nine, or on the hockey team, or in the next play, and I say yes +to every one of them. The first I know I haven't a minute to study +and then I get ragged on the exams. +</p> + +<p> +"You are too popular for your own good, Van. No, I'm not throwing +spinach, straight I'm not. What I mean is that everybody likes you. +Why, there isn't a more popular boy in the school! That's why you +get pulled into every sort of thing that's going. It's all right, +too, only if you expect to study any you've got to rise up in your +boots and take a stand. That's why I shut myself up and grind +regularly part of every evening. I don't enjoy doing it, but it's +the only way." +</p> + +<p> +Van rose and began to roam round the room uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"Goodness knows, Bobbie, if one of us didn't grind neither of us +would get anywhere. By the way, did you manage to dig out that +Caesar for to-morrow? Fire away and give me the product of your +mighty brain. I guess I can memorize the translation if you read it +to me enough times." +</p> + +<p> +Bob did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +"Well?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think it is a straight thing for me to translate your Latin +for you every day, Van," he said at last. "You ought not to ask me +to do it." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it; it's mighty low down—I acknowledge that," answered Van +frankly. "But what would you have me do? Flunk it? Come on. I'll get +it myself next time." +</p> + +<p> +"That's what you always say, Van, but you never do." +</p> + +<p> +"But I tell you I will. This week I've been so rushed with the Glee +Club rehearsals I couldn't do a thing. But you wait and view yours +truly next week." +</p> + +<p> +Reluctantly Bob took up his Caesar and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +"That's a gentleman, Bobbie. Some time when you're drowning I'll +throw a plank to you. I knew you'd save my life." +</p> + +<p> +"I do not approve of doing it at all," Bob observed, still searching +for the place in the much worn brown text-book. "I've done about all +your studying this term." +</p> + +<p> +"I own it, oh Benefactor. Are you not my brain—my intellectual +machinery? Could I live a day without you?" +</p> + +<p> +Leaning across the table Van affectionately rumpled up Bob's tidy +locks until every individual hair stood on end. +</p> + +<p> +"If it weren't for me you'd be dropped back into the next class—that's +what would happen to you; and you deserve it, too." +</p> + +<p> +Van was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it. I haven't put in an hour of solid work for a month, Bob +I ought to be ashamed, and I am." He paused. "But there's no use +jumping all over myself if I haven't," he resumed, shifting to a +more sprightly tone. "I've said I was going to take a spurt soon and +I mean it. I'll begin next week." +</p> + +<p> +"Why not start to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +There was a rap at the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not?" echoed Van, moving toward the door with evident relief. +"Don't you see I can't? Somebody's always breaking in on my work. +Here's somebody this very minute." +</p> + +<p> +He flung open the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Mail. A parcels-post package for you, Bob. I'll bet it's eats. Your +mother's a corker at sending you things; I wish my mother sent me +something now and then." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it's a little different with you. Your family live so far out +west they can't very well mail grub to you; but Mater is right here +in New York, and of course as she's near by she'd be no sort of a +mother if she didn't send me something beside this prison fare. Come +on and see what it is this time." +</p> + +<p> +Bob loosened the string from the big box and began unwinding the +wrappings. +</p> + +<p> +"Plum-cake!" he cried. "A dandy great loaf! And here's olives, and +preserved ginger, and sweet chocolate. She's put in salted almonds, +too; and look—here's a tin box of Hannah's molasses cookies, the +kind I used to like when I was a kid. Isn't my mother a peach?" +</p> + +<p> +"She sure is; and she must think a lot of you," said Van slowly. "I +wish my mother'd ever—" +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe if you pitched in a little harder here she'd feel—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, cut out the preaching, Bobbie," was the impatient retort. "I've +had enough for one day." +</p> + +<p> +Bob did not speak, but tore open the letter that had come with the +bundle. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, listen to this, Van," he shouted excitedly. "Mother says they +have decided to open the New Hampshire house for Easter. They're +going up for my spring vacation and take in the sugaring off. What +a lark! And listen to this. She writes: 'You'd better arrange to bring +your roommate home with you for the holiday unless he has other +plans.'" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I say!" +</p> + +<p> +"Could you go, Van?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob eyed his chum eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see why I couldn't. I'm not going home to Colorado. It's +too far. I was thinking of going to Boston with Ted Talbot, but I'd +a good sight rather go batting with you, Bobbie, old man. It was +fine of your mother to ask me. Where is the place?" +</p> + +<p> +"Our farm? It's in Allenville, New Hampshire, near Mount Monadnock. +It used to be my grandfather's home, and after he died and we all +moved to New York Father fixed it over and kept it so we could go +there summers. I've never been up in the spring, though. It will be +no end of fun." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope you do not call this weather spring," put in Van, +sarcastically, pointing to the snow-buried hills outside. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, it is the middle of March, and it ought to be spring, if it +isn't," answered Bob. "Just think! Only a week more of cramming; +then the exams, and we're off. I'm awfully glad you can go." +</p> + +<p> +"You speak pretty cheerfully of the exams. I don't suppose you dread +them much." Van lapsed into a moody silence, kicking the crumpled +wrapping-paper into the fireplace. "You don't need to worry, Bob. +But look at me. I'll be lucky if I squeak through at all. Of course +I've never really flunked, but I've been so on the ragged edge of +going under so many times that it's no fun." +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up! You'll get through. Why, man alive, you've got to. Now +come on and get at this Latin and afterward we'll pitch into the +plum-cake." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you say we pitch into the cake first?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, sir. Not a bite of cake will you get until you have done your +Caesar. Come on, Van, like a good kid, and have it over; then we'll +eat and talk about Allenville." +</p> + +<p> +Once more Bob opened the book. +</p> + +<p> +"Here we are! You've got to do it, Van, and to-morrow you'll be glad +that you did. Stop fooling with that paper and bring your chair +round this side of the desk. Begin here: <i>Cum Caesar esset</i>—" +</p> + +<p> +Persistently Bob followed each line of the lesson down the page, +translating and explaining as he went, and ungraciously Van Blake +listened. +</p> + +<p> +The little brass clock on the mantelpiece ticked noisily, and the +late afternoon sun that streamed in through the windows lighted into +scarlet the crimson wall-paper and threw into prominence the posters +tacked upon it. It was a cozy room with its deep rattan chairs and +pillow-strewn couch. Snow-shoes, fencing foils, boxing-gloves, and +tennis racquets littered the corners, and on every side a general +air of boyish untidiness prevailed. +</p> + +<p> +Although the apartment was not, perhaps, as luxurious as a college +room, it was nevertheless entirely comfortable, for the Colversham +School boasted among its members not only boys of moderate means but +the sons of some of the richest families in the country. It aimed to +be a democratic institution, and in so far as this was possible it +was; the school, however, was richly endowed and therefore its every +appointment from its perfectly rolled tennis courts to its instructors +and the Gothic architecture of its buildings was of the best. +</p> + +<p> +Van Cortlandt Blake, whose father was a western manufacturer, had by +pure chance stumbled upon Bob Carlton the day the two had alighted +from the train and stood helpless among the new boys on the station +platform, awaiting the motor-car which was to meet them and carry +them up to the school. Before the five mile ride was finished and +the automobile had turned into the avenue of Colversham the boys had +agreed to room together. Bob came from New York City. He was younger +than Van, slender, dark, and very much in earnest; he might even +have passed for a grind had it not been for his sense of humor and +his love for skating and tennis. As it was he proved to be a master +at hockey, as the school team soon discovered, and before he had +been a week at Colversham his classmates also found that he was most +loyal in his friendships and a lad of unusual generosity. +</p> + +<p> +Van Blake was of an entirely different type. Big, husky, happy-go-lucky—a +poor student but a right jolly companion; a fellow who could pitch +into any kind of sport and play an uncommonly good game at almost anything. +More than that, he could rattle off ragtime untiringly and his nimble +fingers could catch up on the piano any tune he heard whistled. What +wonder he speedily became the idol of Colversham? He was a born leader, +tactfully marshaling at will the boys who were his own age, and +good-naturedly bullying those who were younger. +</p> + +<p> +To the school authorities he presented a problem. His influence was +strong and, they felt, not always good; yet there was not a teacher +on the premises who did not like him. Intellectually they were +forced to own that he was demoralizing. He was, moreover, a +disturber of the social order. But his pranks were, after all, pure +mischief and never malicious or underhanded. With a boy like Bob +Carlton as a roommate and drag anchor the principal argued he could +not go far astray. +</p> + +<p> +And so the first year had passed without mishap, and already the +second was nearing its close. The school board congratulated itself. +Had the faculty known that for most of his scholarship, poor as it +often was, Van Blake was indebted to the sheer will power of Bob +Carlton they might have felt less sanguine. Day after day Bob had +patiently tutored his big chum in order that he might contrive to +scrape through his lessons. It was Bob who did the work and Van who +serenely accepted the fruits of it—accepted it but too frequently +with scant thanks and even with grumbling. Bob, however, doggedly +kept at his self-imposed task. To-day's Latin translation was but an +illustration of the daily program; Bob did the pioneering and Van +came upon the field when the path was cleared of difficulties. And +yet it was a glance of genuine affection that Bob cast at his friend +stretched so comfortably in the big Morris chair with a pillow at +his back. +</p> + +<p> +"There, you lazy villain, I think you'll do!" he declared at last. +"Don't forget about the hostages in the second line; you seem pretty +shaky on that. I guess, though, you'll pull through alive." +</p> + +<p> +"Bobbie, you're my guiding angel," returned the elder boy yawning. +"When I make my pile and die rich I'm going to leave you all my +money." +</p> + +<p> +"Great Hat! Hear him. Leave me your money! What do you suppose I'm +going to be doing while you're rolling up your millions? I intend to +be rich myself, thank you," retorted Bob, throwing down his book. +"Now for the plum-cake! You deserve about half the loaf, old man, +but I shan't give it to you, for it would make you sick as a dog, +and then I'd have you to take care of. Oh, I say, listen a minute! +Isn't that the crowd coming from the gym? Open the window and +whistle to them. Tell 'em to pile up here for a feed. And get your +muscle to work on this olive bottle, Van. I can't get the cork out." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER II +</h3> + +<h3> +A NARROW ESCAPE +</h3> + +<p> +The dreaded examinations came and went and, as Van Blake expressed +it, were passed with honor by Bobbie and with dishonor by himself. +After the last one was over it was with a breath of relief that the +two lads tossed pajamas and fresh linen into their suit-cases; +collected snow-shoes and sweaters; and set out on their New +Hampshire visit. +</p> + +<p> +It had been a late spring and therefore although the buds were +swelling and a few pussy-willows venturing from their houses the +country was still in the grip of winter; great drifts buried +roadside and valley and continued to obstruct those highways where +travel was infrequent. +</p> + +<p> +"There certainly is nothing very summerish about this New England +weather of yours, Bob," remarked Van, as, on alighting from the +train at Allenville, he buttoned closer his raccoon coat and stepped +into the waiting sleigh which had come to meet them. +</p> + +<p> +"The State did not realize you were coming, old man; otherwise they +would have had some weather especially prepared for your benefit," +Bob replied, springing into the sleigh beside his chum. "My, but +this is a jolly old pung! Hear it creak. I say," he leaned forward +to address the driver, "where did my father get this heirloom, +David?" +</p> + +<p> +"Law, Mr. Bob, this ain't your father's," David drawled. "He ain't +got anything but wheeled vehicles in the barn, and not one of 'em +will be a mite of use till April. I borrowed this turnout of the +McMasters', who live a piece down the road; the foreman, you know. +It was either this or a straight sledge, and we happened to be using +the sledges collecting sap." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sugaring off already?" questioned Bob with evident +disappointment. "I understood Father to say we'd get here in time to +be in on that." +</p> + +<p> +"Bless your soul, Mr. Bob, you'll see all you want of it," was +David's quick answer. "There's gallons of sap that hasn't been +boiled down yet. It's a great year for maple-sugar, a great year." +</p> + +<p> +"Are some years better than others?" Van inquired. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, indeed. What you want to make the sap run is a good cold snap, +followed by a thaw. That's just what we've been having. It's a prime +combination." +</p> + +<p> +He jerked the reins impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Get up there, Admiral! He's the very worst horse to stop that ever +was made. You see in summer he drags a hay-cart, and he has to keep +halting for the hay to be piled on; then in the fall we use him for +working on the road, and he has to wait while we pick up stones and +spread gravel; in the spring he makes the rounds of the sugar +orchard every morning and stands round on three legs while we empty +the sap buckets into the cask on the sledge. Poor soul, he never +seems to get going that he ain't hauled up. He's so used to it now +that he'd rather stop than go, I reckon." +</p> + +<p> +David's prophecy appeared to be quite true, for the Admiral proved +to be so loath to proceed that every few paces he would hesitate, +turn his head, and seem to be inquiring where the hay, stones, or +sap buckets were to-day. It was only David's repeated urging which +kept him moving at all. In consequence it was dark before the boys +caught sight of the "Pine Ridge" lights gleaming through the tangle +of hemlock boughs that screened the drive, and saw the door of the +hospitable old farmhouse swing open. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I'll wager you're pretty hungry," a cheery voice called. +</p> + +<p> +"Hungry, Mother! We're starved—hollow down to our shoe-strings!" +Swinging himself out upon the steps Bob bent and kissed his mother. +"Mother, this is my roommate, Van Blake," he added. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm very glad to see you, Van," Mrs. Carlton said, putting both her +hands into those of the big fellow who smiled down at her. "How +strange it is that although you and Bob are such friends and he is +continually talking and writing of you that you and I should never +have met!" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't just know how it's happened, Mrs. Carlton," Van answered. +"It seems as if the times you've been at the school to visit I've +either been away or shut up in the infirmary with chicken-pox or +something. I'm great at catching diseases, you know—I get +everything that's going. Father says he thinks I can't bear to let +anything get by me." +</p> + +<p> +He laughed boyishly. +</p> + +<p> +"Speaking of fathers, where's Dad, Mater?" +</p> + +<p> +"He stopped to put another log on the fire. Come in and see what a +blaze we have ready for you." +</p> + +<p> +The two boys followed her into the hall, while David staggered at +the rear of the procession with the luggage. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carlton came forward. +</p> + +<p> +"This is Van Blake, Father," Bob said, proudly introducing his chum. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to see you, young man," Mr. Carlton responded. "Bob's +friends will always find a welcome from us." +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you, sir." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carlton reflected a moment then asked abruptly: +</p> + +<p> +"I don't suppose you happen to be a connection of the Colorado +Blakes." +</p> + +<p> +"I come from Colorado," replied Van quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not one of the sugar Blakes; not Asa Blake's son." +</p> + +<p> +"Yes," cried Van. "Mr. Asa Blake is my father, and he is in the beet +sugar business. Do you know him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I've met him," Mr. Carlton admitted hurriedly, stooping +to push the glowing back-log a little further forward. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Father—" +</p> + +<p> +Bob was interrupted. +</p> + +<p> +"Come, boys," said Mrs. Carlton bustling in. "I guess you've warmed +your fingers by this time. Bob, take Van up-stairs and tumble out of +those fur coats as fast as ever you can so to be ready for dinner." +</p> + +<p> +The lads needed no second bidding. They were up-stairs and back in +the dining-room in a twinkling, and so eagerly did they chatter of +their plans for the morrow that hungry though they were they almost +forgot to eat. +</p> + +<p> +"There are so many things to do that it is hard to decide where to +begin," declared Bob. "Of course we want some coasting and some +snow-shoeing; and we must climb Monadnock. Van says he hasn't seen +a real mountain since he came East. Then we want to be on hand for +the maple-sugar making. Why, ten days won't be half long enough to +do everything we ought to do." +</p> + +<p> +His mother laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"You must have a good sleigh ride, too," she put in. +</p> + +<p> +"I draw the line on a sleigh ride if we have to go with that horse +that brought us up from the station," announced Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Me, too!" Van echoed. +</p> + +<p> +"It would take you the entire ten days to get anywhere and back if +you went sleighing with the Admiral," said Mr. Carlton. +</p> + +<p> +Every one smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd advise your seizing upon the first clear day for your Monadnock +tramp," Mr. Carlton continued. "You'd better make sure of good +weather when you get it. It won't make so much difference with your +other plans; but for the mountain trip you must have a good day." +</p> + +<p> +"I do want Van to get the view from the top if he makes the climb," +Bob answered. +</p> + +<p> +So the chat went merrily on. +</p> + +<p> +Yet despite the gaiety of the evening and Mr. Carlton's evident +interest in the boys' holiday schemes Bob more than once caught his +father furtively studying Van's profile. Obviously something either +puzzled or annoyed him. There was, however, no want of cordiality in +his hearty goodnight or in the zest with which he advocated that if +the next morning proved to be unclouded the two lads better make +certain of their mountain excursion. He even helped lay out the walk +and offered many helpful suggestions. Bob's uneasiness lest his +father should not like his chum vanished, and when he dropped into +bed the last vague misgiving took flight, and he fell into a slumber +so profound that morning came only too soon. +</p> + +<p> +It was David who, entering softly to start the fire in the bedroom +fireplace, awakened Bob. +</p> + +<p> +He sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily. +</p> + +<p> +"What sort of a day is it, David?" he questioned in a whisper that +he might not arouse Van, who was lying motionless beside him. +</p> + +<p> +"It's a grand day, Mr. Bob. There ain't a cobweb in the sky." +</p> + +<p> +David tiptoed out and Bob nestled down once more beneath the +blankets. It was fun to lie there watching the logs blaze up and see +your breath rise on the chilly air; it was fun, too, to know that no +gong would sound as it did at school and compel you to rush madly +into your clothes lest you be late for breakfast and chapel, and +receive a black mark in consequence. No, for ten delicious days +there was to be no such thing as hurry. Bob lay very still +luxuriating in the thought. Then he glanced at Van, who was still +immovable, his arm beneath his cheek. His friend's obliviousness to +the world was irresistible. Bob raised himself carefully; caught up +his pillow; took accurate aim; and let it fly. +</p> + +<p> +It struck Van in the head, routing further possibility of sleep. +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you let a fellow alone?" he snapped. +</p> + +<p> +"Wake up, you old mummy!" shouted Bob. "A great mountain climber you +are, sleeping here all day. Have you forgotten you're going up +Monadnock to-day?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hang Monadnock! I was sound asleep when you lammed that pillow at +me, you heathen. What's the good of waking me up at this unearthly +hour?" yawned Van. +</p> + +<p> +"It's seven o'clock." +</p> + +<p> +"Seven o'clock!" Van straightened up and stared. "Why, man alive, I +haven't been asleep fifteen minutes." +</p> + +<p> +"You've been lying like a log for nine mortal hours," chuckled Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Great Scott! Some sleep, isn't it? That's better than I do at +Colversham." +</p> + +<p> +"Rat<i>her!</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I need sleep. I'm worn out with over-study." +</p> + +<p> +"You are, like—" +</p> + +<p> +"I am. I'm an intellectual wreck," moaned Van. "It's the Latin." +</p> + +<p> +Bob burst into a shout, which was cut short by a rap at the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Time to get up, boys," called the cheery voice of Mr. Carlton. +"Step lively, please. Here's a can of hot water." +</p> + +<p> +The boys wasted no more time in fooling. +</p> + +<p> +They bathed, dressed, and almost before they knew it were at the +table partaking of a hearty breakfast which was capped by heaps of +golden brown pancakes rendered even more golden by the sea of maple-syrup +in which they floated. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll never be able to climb anything after this meal," Van gasped +as he left the table and was thrusting his arms into his sweater. +</p> + +<p> +Bob grinned. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't expect us back before late afternoon, Father," he called over +his shoulder. "We've a long slow climb ahead of us because of the +snow. Probably we shall find it drifted in lots of places. Then we +shall want some time at the top of the mountain, you know. Besides, +we're going to stop and cook chops, and that will delay us. So don't +worry if we don't turn up much before dinner time." +</p> + +<p> +"You're sure you know the trail, Bob?" his mother called as the +trampers went down the steps. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, Mother dear, what a question! Know the trail? Haven't I +climbed that mountain so many times that I could go up it backwards +and with my eyes shut?" +</p> + +<p> +"I guess that's true, Mother," agreed Mr. Carlton reassuringly. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-bye, then," said Bob's mother. "Have a fine day and don't +freeze your noses." +</p> + +<p> +The boys waved, and with a scuff of their snow-shoes were off. +</p> + +<p> +The climb was indeed a stiff one. At first the trail led through +low, flat woods, fragrant with hemlock and balsam; here it was +sheltered and warm. But soon the real ascent began. +</p> + +<p> +"We follow the bed of this brook almost to the top," explained Bob +who was leading the way. "We come into it here, you see. In summer +it is a narrow path clearly marked by rough stones; you wouldn't +believe how different it looks now all covered with snow. It doesn't +seem like the same place. I didn't realize what a difference the +snow would make in everything. But, anyway, we can't miss the way +with these great boulders along the sides of the path; and even if +we did the trees are blazed." +</p> + +<p> +They pushed on for some time. +</p> + +<p> +Then the strap of Van's snow-shoe broke. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, thunder! Got a knife, Bob?" he called. "This darn thing's +busted. I'll have to haul to for repairs." +</p> + +<p> +Bob stopped impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Why didn't you look at it before you started?" he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Never thought of it, Old Preparedness," was the good-natured reply. +"No matter, I have some string and I think I can fix it." +</p> + +<p> +It took some time, however, to make the fastening to the shoe and +moccasin secure, and in the meantime the sun went behind a cloud. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess Father wasn't a very good weather prophet," remarked Bob, +glancing at the sky. "It seems to be clouding up." +</p> + +<p> +"Don't fret. What do we care?" was Van's easy answer. "We're not +really after the view. I don't give a hurrah for what we see when we +get to the top; what I want is the fun of doing it." +</p> + +<p> +They shuffled on. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll be glad when this luncheon is inside instead of outside of me, +won't you?" puffed Bob. "It's almighty heavy to carry." +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't the lunch I mind. It's all these infernal clothes," was +Van's retort. "I don't see what on earth I wore so many things for." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll want them by and by." +</p> + +<p> +"I bet I won't!" protested Van. "I'm going to tie my red sweater to +this tree and leave it here; I can't be bothered with so much +stuff." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll be cold when you get to the top." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I won't. And anyway I'd rather be too cold then than too hot +now. One's no better than the other." +</p> + +<p> +Deaf to Bob's counsel Van resolutely wound the offending sweater +about a great white birch tree that stood at a fork of the path. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll be sorry," was Bob's parting thrust as they plodded on. +</p> + +<p> +The trail was now steep and so narrow that frequently Bob had to +stop and search for the blazing on the trees. +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I know my way, all right," he insisted. "Still, it is +mighty different in winter from what it is at other seasons of the +year, I'll admit that. Remember, I've never climbed this hill when +the snow was on the ground. However, when we once get to the top the +coming down will be a cinch, because we can follow our own tracks." +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly two o'clock before the boys reached the top of the +mountain. Over the landscape hung a mass of heavy gray clouds +beneath which the sun was hidden; the wind was cutting as a knife, +and while Van sought the shelter of an old shack Bob roamed about, +delighting in the familiar scene. +</p> + +<p> +"Why don't you come over here and look at the view?" he called to +his companion. "It is fairly clear in spite of the clouds." +</p> + +<p> +Van shivered. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I don't want to. I don't care a hang for the view—I told you +that before. I'm just hungry. Let's get a fire going and cook the +chops. What do you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"You're cold. I said you would be." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not. I'm starved, though. Where can we get some wood?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob glanced about. +</p> + +<p> +"There seems to be plenty of undergrowth down in that hollow. Take +my knife and cut away some of it. There's a piece of an old stump, +too, that ought to burn well if it isn't too wet." +</p> + +<p> +"That thing would never burn; but the brush will. Sling me the knife +and I'll cut an armful. Let's build it in that little rocky shelter. +Thanks to my camping training I'm right at home on this job." +</p> + +<p> +Van's boast was no idle one. Soon the fire was crackling merrily and +the chops and bacon were sizzling in the frying-pan. Bob unpacked +the sandwiches and the thermos bottle of hot chocolate. +</p> + +<p> +It was a regal luncheon. +</p> + +<p> +How good everything tasted! +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I was cold," Van admitted, rubbing his hands over the +dying embers of the blaze. "But I'm warm as toast now. Is there any +more grub left to eat?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a crumb—why? Are you still hungry?" queried Bob who was +packing up the camping kit. +</p> + +<p> +Van chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, not exactly. I only thought we ought not to waste anything." +</p> + +<p> +Bob glanced up and laughed; then his face grew sober. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, there's a snowflake!" he cried. "And another! Jove, Van, +it's begun to snow!" +</p> + +<p> +"We better be getting down, I suppose," drawled Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Just that, old man; fast as we can, too. Come on." +</p> + +<p> +"What's your hurry? It will be a lark." +</p> + +<p> +"It will be no lark if it snows much—I'll tell you that," replied +Bob seriously. "Besides, the folks will worry. Come ahead." +</p> + +<p> +They turned back down the trail. +</p> + +<p> +The snowfall increased. +</p> + +<p> +"You can hardly see our tracks already," Bob called over his +shoulder. "And this wind is fierce. I had no idea it would snow. It +is awfully wet and sticky snow, too; see how it clings to the +trees." +</p> + +<p> +They sped on. +</p> + +<p> +The descent was far easier than the climb, and they could go +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't remember that big rock," exclaimed Van suddenly, pointing +to a huge boulder that fronted them. "Isn't it a whacker! Odd that +I didn't notice it when we came up. Could we have passed it and not +seen it?" +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +[Illustration: "I DON'T REMEMBER THAT BIG ROCK"] +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose we must have," Bob answered. "I don't remember it, +though. Everything looks queer and different in the storm. It's a +regular squall. How quickly it came!" +</p> + +<p> +"Can you still see our tracks?" +</p> + +<p> +"No. But of course we're right; I couldn't miss my way after coming +over this path so many times." +</p> + +<p> +"Can you see the blazes on the trees?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, silly. How could I when they are all plastered over thick with +snow?" was Bob's scornful retort. He was silent for a moment. "But +don't you worry," he declared. "I am certain we came this way—at +least I <i>think</i> we did." +</p> + +<p> +His tone, however, was less convincing. +</p> + +<p> +They went on. +</p> + +<p> +"We don't seem to be coming out anywhere, do we?" Van finally asked. +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't we pass a little clearing somewhere on the way up?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, there was one." +</p> + +<p> +"Have we passed it?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it's ahead of us." +</p> + +<p> +"It ought to be. I say, suppose we stop a minute and brush the snow +off these trees so to make sure we really are on the trail." +</p> + +<p> +"A bully idea!" +</p> + +<p> +The boys put down their packs and reconnoitred. +</p> + +<p> +"There don't seem to be any marks on these trees," Van asserted +after an interval of search. +</p> + +<p> +"But there must be." +</p> + +<p> +"Find them then—if you can." +</p> + +<p> +Bob nervously scrutinized several gnarled trunks. +</p> + +<p> +"You're right, Van," he owned at last. "We're off the trail; missed +it somehow. We'd better go back; we can't be far wrong. Or better +yet, you wait here while I hunt." +</p> + +<p> +Bob was very grave. +</p> + +<p> +"You bet I'm not going to be left here to be buried in snow like the +Babes in the Wood," protested Van gaily. "No sir-ee! I don't stay +here. I'll help hunt for the path too. Now don't go getting nervous, +Bobbie, old chap. Two of us can't very well get lost on this +mountain. We'll separate enough to keep within hallooing distance, +and we'll tie a handkerchief on this tree so we can get back to it +again if we want to. We know we're part way down, anyway. That's +certain." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't feel so sure," was Bob's answer. "We ought to have turned +back when it began to cloud up; but I never dreamed of snow. The +family will be having a blue fit about us." +</p> + +<p> +"Cheer up! We'll get down all right, only it may take us a little +longer," Van asserted. +</p> + +<p> +They branched into a side path. +</p> + +<p> +The snow swirled about them in blinding sheets, and their footing +became heavy and slippery. +</p> + +<p> +Wandering on, they scanned the trees. +</p> + +<p> +Not a mark appeared. +</p> + +<p> +Both boys were chilled now, and their spirits drooped. +</p> + +<p> +The possibility of being lost on the mountain began to definitely +form itself in their minds. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm mighty sorry I got you into this scrape, Van," Bob said after +a long pause. "I was too cock-sure of myself. That comes of thinking +you know it all." +</p> + +<p> +"Pooh! It wasn't your fault, Bob. I'd give a cent, though, to know +where we are. Do you suppose we've been making any progress all this +time, or just going round in a circle?" +</p> + +<p> +"Search me. I'll bet we've walked miles," groaned Bob. "I've got to +rest if we never find the trail." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke wearily. +</p> + +<p> +"You're not going to sit down, Bob," Van retorted sharply. "Brace +up. You've got to keep moving." +</p> + +<p> +"But I can't. I'm tired and—and—sleepy." +</p> + +<p> +His voice trailed off into a yawn. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't care." Van wheeled on his friend fiercely and striding up +to him shook him violently by the shoulders. "Now pull yourself +together!" he commanded. "Where's your nerve? Brace up or I'll +rattle the daylights out of you." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't go another step." +</p> + +<p> +"You've got to. Start on ahead. Don't crawl that way—walk! Faster! +Faster than that, do you hear? I'm just behind you, and I shall step +on your heels if you lag. Keep it up. Go on." +</p> + +<p> +Panting, Bob obeyed. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he gave a cry. +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter?" demanded Van. +</p> + +<p> +"There! There on the tree!" He pointed before him with trembling +hand. "Your sweater!" +</p> + +<p> +Van pushed past him. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure as fate! My sweater! Blamed if it isn't." +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed weakly. +</p> + +<p> +"Then we've found the trail!" Bob almost sobbed the words. +</p> + +<p> +"We sure have! And hark, don't you hear voices? It's David, as I'm +alive; and your father!" +</p> + +<p> +Aid had indeed come. +</p> + +<p> +"Father!" Bob shouted the word and then laughed again—this time a +bit hysterically. +</p> + +<p> +"The rescuing party's right here!" called Mr. Carlton. +</p> + +<p> +He said it lightly, but as he came up and joined them Van saw that +his face was drawn and his eyes suspiciously bright. +</p> + +<p> +"David has the sledge just at the foot of the hill," he remarked, +appearing not to notice the boy's fatigue. "I guess you'd just as +soon ride the rest of the way." +</p> + +<p> +He slipped an arm around Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"It's not much farther, son. Move right along as fast as you can. +Hurry, boy. Your mother's pretty worried. Thank goodness we found +you in time." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER III +</h3> + +<h3> +SUGARING OFF +</h3> + +<p> +The next morning, incredible as it seemed, Bob and Van were none the +worse for their mountain trip, and Mr. Carlton, who had worried no +little about them, and who was still feeling the effects of his +hours of anxiety, remarked somewhat wrathfully: +</p> + +<p> +"You two fellows come to the surface like a pair of corks! Any one +would think that being lost on a mountain was an every-day +occurrence with you. That is the difference between sixteen and +forty-six, I suppose. My poor old nerves rebel at being jolted in +such casual fashion." +</p> + +<p> +Bob smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"We're fit as two fighting cocks to-day, Father," he declared. "In +fact, this very minute we're going out to help David collect sap. +They are going to boil a lot of it down to-day." +</p> + +<p> +"I imagined as much when I saw the smoke rising from the sugar-house +chimney. Well, you seem to have your morning's work mapped out. Just +don't get lost again, for I have no mind to go scouring the country +a second time to find you." +</p> + +<p> +"We'll take good care, Mr. Carlton," Van replied, giving a final tug +at his long rubber boots. +</p> + +<p> +"You may not lose yourself, Van," Bob chuckled, "but I am morally +certain you'll lose your boots. You will just walk off and leave +them in some snow-drift or mud puddle and never miss them. They are +big enough for an elephant. Where did you get them, anyway?" +</p> + +<p> +"They're an old pair David lent me; your father said I'd better wear +them." +</p> + +<p> +"He's dead right, too. The snow is still deep in spots, and it is +thawing everywhere. It is not the boots I'm quarreling with; it's +their size. I guess, though, you can get on somehow. We want to cut +across the road and make for that hill over to the right. That's +where the sugar-house is; it stands in the middle of an orchard of +maples which were planted by my grandfather. Of course we have other +maple trees scattered about the farm and David taps those, too; but +most of our sugar comes from this orchard." +</p> + +<p> +"Did your grandfather make maple-sugar to sell?" +</p> + +<p> +"Goodness, no! He made it to use. White sugar, you must understand, +was not so common in the olden days as it is now. Very little of it +was grown in our country; and so, as it had to be brought from the +East Indies, Spain, and South America, it was pretty expensive. +Grandfather told me once that when he was a boy people used brown +sugar or maple-sugar to sweeten their food, and sometimes they even +used cheap molasses. White sugar was looked upon as a great luxury." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't think I ever realized that before," said Van thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, even my father remembers when, as a little shaver, he used to +have white sugar spread on his bread for a treat." +</p> + +<p> +"Seems queer, doesn't it?" Van mused. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But it isn't so queer when you consider that all the sugar-cane +now growing in America first had to be brought to the West Indies +from Spain, the Canary Islands, or Madeira and then transplanted +along the Mississippi delta. Dad says that originally sugar-cane came +from Africa or India and that doubtless it was the Crusaders who +introduced it into Europe." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean to tell me that people never knew about sugar until +then?" inquired Van incredulously, halting in the middle of the +road. +</p> + +<p> +"The Chinese were practically the only people who did, and they did +not use it at all as we do; they just sweetened things with the thin +sap." +</p> + +<p> +Van regarded his chum steadily for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +"Say," he demanded at last, "how did you come to know so much, +Bobbie?" +</p> + +<p> +"What? Oh, about sugar? I don't know much. I just happen to remember +a few scraps Father has told me from time to time. He's in the sugar +business, you know." +</p> + +<p> +"Really? No, I didn't know. You never said anything about it. Cane-sugar?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." Bob watched Van curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"That's odd." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, because my father is in the sugar business too. Don't you +recall my telling your father so? Yes, my dad makes beet sugar." +</p> + +<p> +"Then that's how my father happened to know your father!" exclaimed +Bob quickly. "I suppose they're business friends. I've been +wondering why Father kept watching you. Probably he sees in you some +resemblance to your father. Do you look like him?" +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly know. Some people think I do. My mother says so," was +Van's indifferent response. "But say, tell me more about sugar. +You'd think with my father right in the business I'd know something +about it; but I don't. Do they get sugar from anything beside beets, +and sugar-cane, and maple sap?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, my, yes. There's sugar in ever so many other things: in grapes, +and milk, and the date palm, and in maize; but it is from the beet +and cane that the most sugar can be extracted." +</p> + +<p> +Van nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"You're quite a lecturer, Bobbie," he said. "Wait until I get back +home and astonish my father with all this knowledge. I'll make his +eyes stick out." +</p> + +<p> +Van broke into hearty laughter at the thought. Then, as he started +to walk on he gave a shout of dismay. +</p> + +<p> +"Hold onto me, Bob," he cried. "I can't move. While I've been +standing here listening to your words of wisdom I've been sinking +deeper and deeper into your old yellow mud until now I can't stir. +I can't—upon my word. My feet are in perfectly solid. You can laugh +if you want to, but you've just got to pull me out, that's all. +Help! Help! To the rescue. I shall disappear in another minute. +David will never see his rubber boots again." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you can get your feet out," was Bob's scornful retort. +</p> + +<p> +"Cross my heart I can't. Honest, Bobbie," protested Van. "I've got +into a quicksand or a quagmire or something. Look at me. I'm up to +my knees now, and if you don't hurry you'll see nothing of me but my +collar. I saved your life yesterday; you might do the same for me +to-day." +</p> + +<p> +But Bob was too convulsed with amusement to offer aid; instead he +stood on a large rock at the roadside and laughed immoderately. +</p> + +<p> +"Pull! Pull!" he cried to Van. "Why don't you pull?" +</p> + +<p> +"I am pulling," Van answered. "But it does no good. I can't budge my +feet. I never saw such mud in all my life. It must be yards deep. It +sucks my boots right off. You'll have to help me." +</p> + +<p> +"Not I! I know too well what would happen. It would be like +Kipling's story of the Elephant's Child. Don't you remember, when +the crocodile let go the nose of the little elephant how he suddenly +sat down <i>plop</i>. I've no notion of being pulled into this mud +hole when your rubber boots come to the surface. You'll have to get +yourself out." +</p> + +<p> +"You old heathen! It is not a straight game to fit me out with a +pair of hip rubber boots miles too large for me and then sit and +howl when you see me losing my life in them. Well, you needn't come +into the mire if you don't want to, but you can at least be +gentleman enough to pass me the end of that pole that is lying +beside you," said Van. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll do that." +</p> + +<p> +Bob picked up a long branch from the ground. +</p> + +<p> +"Here!" he cried. "Catch hold of this and pull." +</p> + +<p> +The two boys tugged at opposite ends of the stick. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly and quite without warning something happened. +</p> + +<p> +The dead wood parted and Bob hurtled backward off the rock where he +had been standing and landed in a snow-drift; while Van, much to his +astonishment, sat down with abruptness in the wettest of the mud. +</p> + +<p> +Two more chagrined boys could nowhere have been found. +</p> + +<p> +Bob was the first to get to his feet. Shaking the snow out of his +hair and collar he called: +</p> + +<p> +"Get up, you—unless you want to be swallowed up for life. My eye, +but you're a sight! If your mother could only see you now. Well, +your feet are out, if you did have to get in all over to do it. Now +step lively if you don't want to get stuck again. You are a peach, +I must say!" +</p> + +<p> +Van took the banter good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +"That's what one might call being buried alive," he answered. "Lucky +it wasn't you! I'm tall and could keep my head out; but the mire +would long since have closed over an abbreviated person like +yourself and you would have been seen no more." +</p> + +<p> +Bob winced. He was sensitive about his height. +</p> + +<p> +Clambering up on the rock beside his chum Van scooped up a handful +of clean snow and with it washed his hands and face. +</p> + +<p> +"There!" he said at length. "I'm just as tidy as if it had not +happened." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't exactly agree with you," replied Bob, "but I guess you'll +have to do. Come on now. Goodness only knows where David and the +sledge have got to by this time." +</p> + +<p> +They hurried up the hill. +</p> + +<p> +"There's David!" Van said, as they reached the crest of the rise. +</p> + +<p> +It was David sure enough; and standing beside him in his customary +motionless attitude was the Admiral harnessed into a great sledge +surmounted by a barrel into which David was pouring the sap as fast +as he gathered it. At the moment the man was busy detaching one of +the sap buckets from the trunk of a giant maple. +</p> + +<p> +The boys joined him. +</p> + +<p> +"What are you doing, Dave?" asked Van curiously. +</p> + +<p> +"Doing! Ain't you got eyes, young man? I certainly ain't writing a +book or taking a wireless message," he answered without turning his +head. +</p> + +<p> +"But straight, I mean it. What are you doing? You know this business +is new to me," explained Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Haven't you ever seen maple-sugar made?" David's tone was full of +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Never." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, bless my soul! Where was you raised?" +</p> + +<p> +"In Colorado." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph! That accounts for it. If you'd been brought up in the East +you'd have known." +</p> + +<p> +"But I was raised in the East, David, and I've never seen maple-sugar +made," piped Bob, instantly overthrowing the old farmer's philosophy. +</p> + +<p> +"You ain't never—you ain't seen maple-syrup or maple-sugar made, +Mr. Bob?" queried David aghast. +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, what are we coming to?" +</p> + +<p> +The farmhand surveyed the boys disdainfully. +</p> + +<p> +"What you been doing with yourself all your days?" he gasped at +last. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been going to school." +</p> + +<p> +"And they ain't taught you to make maple-sugar? That's about all +schooling is worth nowadays," he affirmed. "Now I warn't never +inside a schoolhouse in my life, but I've known from the time I was +knee-high to a grasshopper how to make maple-sugar. I made pounds of +it before I was half the age of you two. The boys of this generation +don't know nothin'!" +</p> + +<p> +He sniffed contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, you may as well learn before you're a minute older," he +continued. "Listen, now. Do you see the little hole in this maple?" +He pointed up at the gray trunk above his head. "We make a little +hole like that in every tree as soon as the sap begins to run in the +early spring. Then we drive into the hole this small piece of hollow +wood—it is like a trough, you see; and the sap runs through it +into the buckets we hang beneath. All day and all night it drips in +and each morning we go round and empty every pail into the cask we +carry on the sledge. The sap, as you see, is thin, because only part +of it is sugar; the rest is water. What we have to do is to boil +down the liquid until the part that is water goes off in vapor and +only the syrup is left. If we're after maple-syrup we let it cool +when it gets thick and later bottle it; but if we want sugar we must +boil the syrup still more until little crystals form in it." +</p> + +<p> +"How can you tell when it has been boiled enough?" questioned Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, we've made it enough times to know," David replied. "Some folks +stick a thermometer into it and figger how hot it will have to be; +they say that's the best way. Others try the syrup in cold water or +on snow like you would candy. Generally speaking, I can tell by the +feel of it, and by the way it drips from the spoon. Sometimes, +though, when I'm in doubt I try it on snow myself. If it gets kinder +soft and waxy you can be sure it is getting done. If I was you +instead of tracking round emptying buckets I'd go in the sugar-house +and see 'em boiling the syrup. They started yesterday, and as I +calculate it the mess ought to be pretty well along by now." +</p> + +<p> +"Bully idea, David! What do you say, Van?" asked Bob. "Shall we +trail David or shall we go in and see the sugar made?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sugar! Sugar! Me for the sugar!" Van cried. +</p> + +<p> +"Sugar it is then!" +</p> + +<p> +Into the sugar-house they went. +</p> + +<p> +The small room was hot and steamy, and in the middle of it in a +zinc-lined tank the foaming sap was boiling furiously. Beside it +stood McMasters, Mr. Carlton's foreman, a thermometer in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +"Good-morning, Mr. Bob," he said. "So you are coming to cast an eye +on the maple-sugar! Last week we made syrup and bottled it. Not a +bad day's work, eh?" +</p> + +<p> +With no little pride he pointed to a row of neat bottles +symmetrically arranged on a shelf. "We'll seal them to-morrow or +next day and get the labels on, and then they will be ready to sell. +But to-day it's sugar, so we have to keep the sap at a higher +temperature." +</p> + +<p> +As he spoke he paused to test the bubbling liquid in the kettle. +</p> + +<p> +"If you lads want a treat take one of those wooden plates over there +and fill it with snow; I'll spoon some of this hot sap over it, and +you will have a feast for a king." +</p> + +<p> +The boys needed no urging. They took the plates, hurried out, and +soon returned with them; over the heap of snow the foreman poured +several heaping spoonfuls of hot syrup which, to their surprise, +cooled in an incredibly short time and stiffened into a sticky mass +that looked like candy. +</p> + +<p> +"Now get one of those wooden skewers from the shelf and use it as a +fork," McMasters said. +</p> + +<p> +The boys caught the idea at once. +</p> + +<p> +They gathered the candied syrup up on the end of the sticks and +thrust it into their mouths. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, it is just like toffy!" Van exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"It is a sight fresher than anything you could buy at the store," +observed the foreman. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe I've got to have some more, Mac," Bob said. "Somehow it +melts away before you know you're eating it." +</p> + +<p> +He refilled his plate with fresh snow and held it out for a second +helping of syrup. +</p> + +<p> +McMasters filled it good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +But when the plates were extended the fourth and fifth time the +Scotchman demurred. +</p> + +<p> +"It is no stuff to make a meal of, Mr. Bob," protested he. "And at +ten o'clock in the morning, too. I'll give you no more. It is too +sweet. Next you know the two of you will be spending your vacation +in bed and wondering what's the matter with you. Why, we'd have no +sugar at all if you should stay here eating at this rate. If it's candy +you're wantin', ask the cook to boil some maple-syrup until it is +thick like molasses candy; then turn it out of the pan and when it +is almost cool pull it until it turns white. You'll find it better +than any candy you can buy. Try it." +</p> + +<p> +"We certainly will, Mac, and thanks for the suggestion," Bob +replied. +</p> + +<p> +"And while you're at it you might hunt up some butternuts and stir +them in; I'll recommend the result and will wager you'll think it as +good as anything you ever ate." +</p> + +<p> +Once more he took the temperature of the steaming sap. +</p> + +<p> +"We're going to put some of the sugar in those tin pails and sell +it," he continued. "Each pail holds ten pounds. And some we shall +pour into those small tin moulds and make little scalloped cakes for +our own use. I reckon you can have some of them to take back to +college when you go. We'll certainly have a plenty to spare you +some, for your father will make a handsome thing out of his sugar +this year. I wouldn't wonder but you're being educated on maple-sugar +money. You better make your bow of thanks to the trees as you go +through the orchard," he added whimsically. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IV +</h3> + +<h3> +THE REFINERY +</h3> + +<p> +Vacation with its country sports came to an end only too quickly, +and leaving the New Hampshire hills behind the Carlton family, +together with Van Blake, set out for New York where the boys were to +make a weekend visit before returning to Colversham. +</p> + +<p> +"I wish while we're in New York we could go through your refinery, +Dad," Bob remarked to his father. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carlton glanced at him in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"What set you thinking of that, Bob?" he asked. "You never were +interested in sugar making before." +</p> + +<p> +"I know it, Father." Bob flushed guiltily. "I ought to have been. +But since we have seen maple-sugar made Van and I thought it would +be fun to see the process that white sugar has to go through before +it is ready for the market." +</p> + +<p> +"Van thought so, did he?" queried Mr. Carlton. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, yes, he thought so. I believe, though, it was I who suggested +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Humph!" murmured Mr. Carlton. He mused a moment. "I suppose it +would do no harm," he said at last, half to himself. +</p> + +<p> +"Harm!" +</p> + +<p> +"No, no! Of course not," interrupted Mr. Carlton hurriedly. "The +process is an open secret anyway, except perhaps—Oh, I guess it +would be all right." +</p> + +<p> +Bob regarded his father with a puzzled stare. +</p> + +<p> +"I will arrange for you and Van to go through the works right away," +continued Mr. Carlton. "It simply will be necessary for me to +telephone the superintendent and tell him you are coming so he will +have some one on hand to explain things to you. This was your +scheme, you say?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir. Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing, nothing," was Mr. Carlton's enigmatic reply. +</p> + +<p> +He was as good as his word, for despite his peculiar reluctance in +the matter he lost no time in perfecting the plan, and the next +morning after the party reached New York he informed the boys that +the motor-car would be at the door at nine o'clock to take them to +the refinery. +</p> + +<p> +Bob and Van, to whom New York was more or less of an old story, +hailed this announcement with pleasure and promptly stowed +themselves away in the big limousine which was to whirl them to Long +Island where the works were located. All the way out Van was +singularly silent, and appeared to be turning something over in his +mind; once he started to speak, but checked himself abruptly. +</p> + +<p> +Bob watched him uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"I believe you've lost your enthusiasm about sugar," said he at +last, "and did not really want to come." +</p> + +<p> +"What a notion! Of course I wanted to come." +</p> + +<p> +"But you seem so glum, old man." +</p> + +<p> +"Glum! Nonsense! I never was in better spirits in my life." +</p> + +<p> +With a sudden shifting of the subject Van pointed to a stack of +chimneys cleaving the sky and observed: +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder if those belong to your father's plant?" +</p> + +<p> +"I fancy they do," was Bob's quick answer. "Dad said we'd see a +bunch of tall chimneys, and that the refinery was of yellow brick." +</p> + +<p> +"Then this is the place," Van declared, drumming on the window glass +with forced gaiety. +</p> + +<p> +He did not, however, leap from the car with the spring of +anticipation that Bob did, and noticing his spiritless step his +friend once more remarked upon it. +</p> + +<p> +"You seem bored to death to have to drag yourself through here, +Van," said he. "What's the matter? You know if you do not want to +come you don't have to." +</p> + +<p> +"I do want to." +</p> + +<p> +"But somehow you seem so-so—" +</p> + +<p> +"So <i>what?</i>" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, you seem to hang back as if you could hardly put one foot +before the other," answered Bob. "Don't you feel well?" +</p> + +<p> +"Prime! There's nothing the matter with me. What put that idea into +your head?" +</p> + +<p> +"Chiefly you yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, cut it out. I don't see what you're fussing about me for. I'm +just as anxious to see how sugar is made as you are." +</p> + +<p> +Still Bob was unconvinced. He could not have explained why, but he +felt certain that Van's enthusiasm was feigned. For a second he +paused undecidedly on the pavement before the door of the great +factory; then shrugging his shoulders he entered, followed closely +by his chum. +</p> + +<p> +It was evident that they were expected, for a clerk rose from his +desk and came forward to greet them. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Hennessey, the superintendent, said I was to bring you to his +office when you arrived," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Thank you." +</p> + +<p> +"You are Mr. Carlton's son, aren't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes." +</p> + +<p> +"I thought you must be. Mr. Hennessey himself is going to take you +through the works." +</p> + +<p> +The clerk led the way to the door of a private office, where he +knocked. +</p> + +<p> +"Mr. Carlton and his friend are here," he announced to the boy who +opened the door. "Tell Mr. Hennessey right away." +</p> + +<p> +The boys had not a moment to wait before a large man with a genial +face and outstretched hand came forward. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad to see you, Mr. Carlton," he said. "I'm Hennessey, the +superintendent. Possibly you may have heard your father speak of me; +I have been helping him make sugar for twenty years." +</p> + +<p> +Bob smiled up into the eyes of the big man looking down at him. +</p> + +<p> +"Indeed Dad has spoken of you, Mr. Hennessey," he said, returning +the hearty hand-shake. "He depends on you a lot. He says he always +feels sure that when you're on the job everything will be all +right." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hennessey flushed with pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +"I merely try to run your father's place as if it were my own," was +the modest rejoinder. +</p> + +<p> +"That's just it—that's why Father feels he can go to the North Pole +if he wants to and not worry while he's gone," nodded Bob. "I think +it is mighty good of you to bother with my chum and me. Can't you +send some one to take us through the refinery? There is not the +slightest need for you to go with us yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I wouldn't think of turning you over to some one else. You see +I am interested in your sugar education; I can't allow the boss's +son to get a wrong start in the business," laughed Mr. Hennessey. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid I'm not starting in the business," protested Bob, +shaking his head deprecatingly. "I'm only trying to learn a little +something about Dad's job, so I can be a bit more intelligent about +it." +</p> + +<p> +"You're going to investigate the way your father earns his money, +eh?" chuckled the superintendent. "Well, I'll tell you right now you +need do no blushing for your father's business methods; he makes his +fortune as cleanly and honestly as any man could make it." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll take a chance on Dad," was the laconic response. +</p> + +<p> +"You can do so with safety." +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause and turning Bob introduced Van Blake. +</p> + +<p> +Then after the two boys had been provided with duck coats so that +none of the sticky liquid that sometimes dripped from the machinery +should spot their clothing the three set out for the basement of the +factory, where the incoming cargoes of sugar were unloaded. Here +great bags or casks of raw sugar were being opened, and their +contents emptied into wooden troughs preparatory to cleansing and +refining. +</p> + +<p> +Both lads regarded with surprise the material that was being tipped +out into the bins. +</p> + +<p> +"Why, it looks like nothing but coarse, muddy snow!" ejaculated Van. +"Do you really mean to tell us that you can make that brown stuff +white, Mr. Hennessey?" +</p> + +<p> +"That's what we're here for," answered Mr. Hennessey, obviously +enjoying his amazement. "All raw sugar comes to us this way. You +see, it is about the color of maple or brown sugar, but it is not +nearly so pure, for it has a great deal of dirt mixed with it when +we first get it." +</p> + +<p> +"Where does it come from?" inquired Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Largely from the plantations of Cuba and Porto Rico. Toward the end +of the year we also get raw sugar from Java, and by the time this is +refined and ready for the market the new crop from the West Indies +comes along. In addition to this we get consignments from the +Philippine Islands, the Hawaiian Islands, South America, Formosa, +and Egypt. I suppose it is quite unnecessary to tell you young men +anything of how the cane is grown; of course you know all that." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe we do, except in a general way," Bob admitted +honestly. "I am ashamed to be so green about a thing at which Dad +has been working for years. I don't know why I never asked about it +before. I guess I never was interested. I simply took it for +granted." +</p> + +<p> +"That's the way with most of us," was the superintendent's kindly +answer. "We accept many things in the world without actually knowing +much about them, and it is not until something brings our ignorance +before us that we take the pains to focus our attention and learn +about them. So do not be ashamed that you do not know about sugar +raising; I didn't when I was your age. Suppose, then, I give you a +little idea of what happens before this raw sugar can come to us." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you would," exclaimed both boys in a breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Probably in your school geographies you have seen pictures of +sugar-cane and know that it is a tall perennial not unlike our +Indian corn in appearance; it has broad, flat leaves that sometimes +measure as many as three feet in length, and often the stalk itself +is twenty feet high. This stalk is jointed like a bamboo pole, the +joints being about three inches apart near the roots and increasing +in distance the higher one gets from the ground." +</p> + +<p> +"How do they plant it?" Bob asked. +</p> + +<p> +"It can be planted from seed, but this method takes much time and +patience; the usual way is to plant it from cuttings, or slips. The +first growth from these cuttings is called plant cane; after these +are taken off the roots send out ratoons or shoots from which the +crop of one or two years, and sometimes longer, is taken. If the +soil is not rich and moist replanting is more frequently necessary +and in places like Louisiana, where there is annual frost, planting +must be done each year. When the cane is ripe it is cut and brought +from the field to a central sugar mill, where heavy iron rollers +crush from it all the juice. This liquid drips through into troughs +from which it is carried to evaporators where the water portion of +the sap is eliminated and the juice left; you would be surprised if +you were to see this liquid. It looks like nothing so much as the +soapy, bluish-gray dish-water that is left in the pan after the +dishes have been washed." +</p> + +<p> +"A tempting picture!" Van exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +"I know it. Sugar isn't very attractive during its process of +preparation," agreed Mr. Hennessey. "The sweet liquid left after the +water has been extracted is then poured into vacuum pans to be +boiled until the crystals form in it, after which it is put into +whirling machines, called centrifugal machines, that separate the +dry sugar from the syrup with which it is mixed. This syrup is later +boiled into molasses. The sugar is then dried and packed in these +burlap sacks such as you see here, or in hogsheads, and shipped to +refineries to be cleansed and whitened." +</p> + +<p> +"Isn't any of the sugar refined in the places where it grows?" +queried Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Practically none. Large refining plants are too expensive to be +erected everywhere; it therefore seems better that they should be +built in our large cities, where the shipping facilities are good +not only for receiving sugar in its raw state but for distributing +it after it has been refined and is ready for sale. Here, too, +machinery can more easily be bought and the business handled with +less difficulty." +</p> + +<p> +"You spoke of a central sugar mill," began Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. Each plantation does not have a mill of its own or, indeed, +need one. Frequently a planter will raise too small a crop to pay +him to operate a mill; so a mill is constructed in the center of a +sugar district, and to this growers may carry their wares and be +paid in bulk. It saves much trouble and expense. It also encourages +small growers who could not afford to build mills and might in +consequence abandon sugar raising. The leaves are all stripped off +before the cane is shipped so that nothing but the stalks are sent. +As the largest portion of sugar is in the part of the cane nearest +the ground it is cut as close to the root as possible. After the +juice has been crushed from the stalks by putting them several times +through the rollers the cane, or <i>begass</i>, as it is called, is +so dry that it can be used as fuel for running the mill machinery." +</p> + +<p> +"How clever!" +</p> + +<p> +"Clever and economical as well," agreed Mr. Hennessey. "Moreover, it +does away with a waste product that otherwise would accumulate." +</p> + +<p> +Bob nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Raw sugar has usually been shipped to the northern refineries by +water, as that mode of transportation is cheaper; but during the +Great War ships have been so scarce that in 1916 a large consignment +of Hawaiian sugar was for the first time sent overland across the +American continent by train; this of course made the freight rates +higher, and if such a condition were to continue the price of sugar +would of necessity have to be advanced." +</p> + +<p> +"I never thought of such things affecting us," murmured Van. +</p> + +<p> +"We live in a network of interdependence," Mr. Hennessey replied. +"Scarcely anything can be done in any land that does not affect us. +Commercial conditions react upon us all, for there is not one of us +who is not indebted to the four corners of the globe for what he +eats, wears, and uses. Therefore, you see, world prosperity and +comfort can be at their height only when there is world peace under +which all nations are friends, maintaining cordial trade relation +with one another." +</p> + +<p> +"What political party do you belong to, Mr. Hennessey?" asked Bob, +glancing into the superintendent's earnest face. +</p> + +<p> +"I do not know just what label you would put on me," the big man +replied evasively. "But this I do know: first, last, and all the +time I am for a universe where each country shall work for the good +of the whole." +</p> + +<p> +He spoke slowly and with impressiveness; then breaking off abruptly +he led the way up a winding iron staircase and the boys, still +pondering his words, followed him silently and thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER V +</h3> + +<h3> +VAN SPRINGS A SURPRISE +</h3> + +<p> +The room into which they emerged was at the top of the factory, and +it was here in great vats that the dry sugar was melted. +</p> + +<p> +"We often melt down as many as two million pounds of raw sugar a +day," said Mr. Hennessey. "The United States, you know, is the +greatest sugar consuming nation in the world. No other country +devours so much of it. One reason is because here even the poorer +classes have money enough so they can afford sugar for household +use; in many countries this is not the case. Only the well-to-do +take sugar in tea or coffee and have it for common use. Our +Americans also eat quantities of candy. At the present time children +eat three times as many sweets as did their parents, and the amount +is constantly increasing. Doctors tell us sugar is one of the fuels +necessary to the human system; it generates both heat and energy. +Possibly it is because our people work so hard and are driven at +such high nervous tension that they demand so much of this sort of +food." +</p> + +<p> +"I never knew before that candy was good for us," ejaculated Bob in +surprise. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, bless you, yes! But you must take it in moderation if you wish +to benefit from it and escape illness. Used intelligently sugar is +an excellent food, but of course you must prescribe it for yourself +in the proper proportions," laughed Mr. Hennessey. "We all +constantly take more or less sugar into our systems through the +ordinary foods we eat. But here in America over and above this each +individual annually averages about eighty pounds of sugar. You will +agree that that is a good deal." +</p> + +<p> +"I should think so! Why, that is a tremendous amount!" Van declared. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems so when you see it in figures, doesn't it?" returned the +superintendent. "Next to the United States in sugar consumption +comes England, the reason for this being that the English +manufacture such vast amounts of jam for the market. England is a +great fruit growing country, you must remember. The damp, moderate +climate results in wonderful strawberries, gooseberries, plums, and +other small fruits. With these products cheap, fine, and plenty, the +English have taken up fruit canning as one of their industries, and +they turn out some of the best jams and marmalades that are made." +</p> + +<p> +The boys listened intently. +</p> + +<p> +"The Germans and the French are much more frugal than we Americans," +went on Mr. Hennessey. "Sugar is not so common in their countries. +Often when in Germany you will notice people in the restaurants and +cafés who carry away in their pockets the loaf sugar which has been +allotted them and which they have not had occasion to use. It is a +common occurrence, and considered quite proper, although it looks +strange to us. Doubtless, too, if you have traveled abroad you have +discovered how few candy shops there are. Foreigners regard the +wholesale fashion in which we devour sweets with wonder and often +with disgust. They consider it a form of self-indulgence, and indeed +I myself think we are at times a bit immoderate." +</p> + +<p> +"My father says we are an immoderate people," Van put in. +</p> + +<p> +"I am afraid he is right," nodded Mr. Hennessey. "We seem to proceed +on the principle that if a thing is good we must have a great deal +of it. However, the vice—if vice it be—is good for the sugar +business." +</p> + +<p> +He paused a moment and stood looking down into the great foaming +vats before him. +</p> + +<p> +"You can't see the steam coils that are melting this raw sugar," he +remarked. "They go round the inside of the tanks. But after the +liquid is drawn off you can see them. When first melted the sugar is +far from pure; you would be astonished at the amount of dirt mixed +with it. Many of these impurities boil up to the surface and over +and over again we skim them off. But even after that we have to wash +the sugar by various processes. After it has been separated, +clarified, and filtered it comes out a clear white liquid, and is +ready for the vacuum pans, where the water is evaporated and the +sugar crystallized." +</p> + +<p> +"How do you get the liquid clear?" asked Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"After it has been skimmed as carefully as possible we first settle +it through the agency of chemicals," answered Mr. Hennessey. "We use +milk of lime as a foundation, but we put other things with it. Our +exact formula is a secret, but since you are in the family I guess +there would be no objection to my telling you that we use—-" +</p> + +<p> +"Don't tell us! Don't tell us!" cried Van suddenly. "I don't want to +know. I'd rather not. I mustn't listen." +</p> + +<p> +Covering his ears the boy turned away. +</p> + +<p> +His companions regarded him with amazement. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't tell me, Mr. Hennessey," he pleaded. "Don't tell me anything +that is secret. I can't listen. It wouldn't be right." +</p> + +<p> +It was evident both to the superintendent and to Bob that his +distress was real, and although neither of them understood it Mr. +Hennessey cut short his explanation. +</p> + +<p> +Try as they would the strange interruption left a jarring note +behind it, and to ease the tenseness the older man stepped forward +and, taking from a rack near by one of several glass tubes filled +with yellow liquid, held it up to the light. +</p> + +<p> +"You see much must still be done to this stuff before it comes out +white," he said. "We squeeze the liquid through a series of filter +bags and also send it through other filters filled with black bone +coal." +</p> + +<p> +"What is black bone coal?" Bob demanded. +</p> + +<p> +"Bone coal is a product made by burning and pulverizing the large +bones left at the abbatoirs until a coarse-grained black powder not +unlike emery sand is made; if this is not allowed to become too fine +with using it is an excellent sugar filter. In fact, strangely +enough, nothing has ever been found to take its place, and it has +become a necessary but expensive agency employed in every sugar +refinery. Quantities of it are used; in our refinery alone we have +about a hundred bone coal filters and each one holds thirty tons of +black bone coal. That will give you some idea how much of it is +needed. We get nothing back on it, either, for in the process of +using it becomes finer, and after that it is good for nothing +unless, perhaps, to be made into cheap shoe-dressing. Unlike many of +the other industries sugar refining has no by-products; by that I +mean nothing on which the manufacturer may recover money. On the +contrary in the leather business, for example, almost every scrap of +material can either be utilized or sold for cash; odds and ends of +the hides go into glue stock, small bits of leather are made into +heel-taps or hardware fittings. But in refining cane-sugar there is +nothing to be turned back into money to reimburse the manufacturer +for his outlay. What isn't sugar is dead loss." +</p> + +<p> +The three now moved on and saw how the heated juice traveled by +means of pipes from one vat to another, and how it constantly became +thicker and clearer. +</p> + +<p> +"One of the greatest dangers to successful sugar making is +fermentation," observed Mr. Hennessey. "Sugar must continually be +stirred by revolving paddles to keep it from fermenting; we also are +obliged to take the greatest care that our vats and all other +receptacles are clean, and that the plant is immaculate. Frequently +we wash down all the walls with a solution of lime in order that the +entire interior of the refinery may be quite fresh." +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't dream it was so much work to make white sugar," ventured +Bob, a little awed. "Our maple-sugar making was much simpler." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll venture to say it was," agreed Mr. Hennessey. "In the first +place, you did not make such a quantity of it; then you did not try +to get it white. Furthermore, you were content to take it in cakes. +Making cane-sugar is, however, easy enough if one is careful and +knows the exact way to do it. There is plenty of opportunity to +spoil it—I'll admit that; but it is seldom that a batch of our +sugar goes back on us. We have fine chemists who watch every step of +the process and who constantly test samples of the liquid at every +stage into which it passes until it comes out water-white." +</p> + +<p> +"And then?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then follows crystallization, and this too requires skilled workmen +and extreme care. The water is evaporated and the sugar crystallized +in the vacuum pans, the size crystal depending upon the temperature +at which the liquid is boiled. It takes a lower temperature to form +a small crystal and a higher one to form a large crystal. An expert +who takes the temperature of the boiling sugar regulates what we +call fine-grain or coarse-grain sugar by regulating the size of the +crystals. By drawing off some of the liquid and examining it on a +glass slide by electric light he can tell the precise moment at +which the crystals are the right size. Each size has a name by which +it is known in the trade: Diamond A; Fine Granulated; Coarse +Granulated; Crystal Domino; Confectioners' A and so on." +</p> + +<p> +They were walking as Mr. Hennessey talked. "After the sugar has been +crystallized in the pans it passes into a mixer, where it is stirred +and kept from caking until it is put into the centrifugal machines, +which actually spin off the crystals. These machines are lined with +gauze, and as they whirl at tremendous velocity they force out +through this gauze the liquid part of the sugar and leave the sugar +crystals inside the machine. When these are quite dry the bottom of +the receptacle opens, and the granular sugar is dropped through into +a large bin." +</p> + +<p> +"But I should think it would stick together," objected Van. +</p> + +<p> +"That's an intelligent objection, my boy," declared Mr. Hennessey, +much pleased at Van's grasp of the subject. "It would stick if it +were not dried off by a degree of heat just right to keep the +particles separate and not allow them to cake. After this any dust +or dirt adhering to the sugar is blown off by an air blast. The +product is then ready to be pressed into moulds or cut; boxed in +small packages of varying weights; or put into bags or barrels." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Hennessey led the way to another floor of the refinery. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +[Illustration: "I SHOULD THINK IT WOULD STICK TOGETHER."] +</p> + +<p> +Here were automatic machines upon which empty boxes traveled along +until they reached a device that filled each one with the exact +number of pounds to be contained in it, the package afterward passed +to women who sealed it tightly and gave it the final touch before it +was shipped. Other women were packing loaf or domino sugar, while +down-stairs in a cooper shop men moved about constructing with great +rapidity the barrels that were to carry larger quantities of sugar +to the wholesale and retail stores. +</p> + +<p> +"I guess by this time you've had all the sugar-making you want for +one day," declared the superintendent. "I'm afraid I've given you +quite a stiff lesson. You see I am so interested in it myself that +I forget to have mercy on my listeners." +</p> + +<p> +He smiled down at the boys. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm sure we have had a fine morning with you, Mr. Hennessey, and we +certainly have learned a lot," Bob said, putting out his hand. "I +can't swear, though, that we could make white sugar even now." +</p> + +<p> +"Faith, I'd be sorry if I thought I could teach any one the whole +process in three hours. It would make my twenty years of study and +hard work brand me as pretty stupid," chuckled the big +superintendent. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VI +</h3> + +<h3> +A FAMILY TANGLE +</h3> + +<p> +It was not until the boys were in the motor-car and returning home +that Bob ventured to mention to Van his strange behavior of the +morning. +</p> + +<p> +"What on earth was the matter with you, Van?" he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Van stirred uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +"Bobbie," he said, "I'm going to tell you something. I've been +wondering whether I'd better or not, and at last I've decided to. I +didn't want to go to your father's refinery to-day or, in fact, at +all. You've all been very kind to me, although it was not until I +got a letter from my father this morning that I realized how kind." +</p> + +<p> +He paused. +</p> + +<p> +"Has your dad told you anything about my people?" he asked abruptly. +"Of course he knows, but he may have thought best to keep it to +himself; at any rate it has not prevented him from giving me as +cordial a welcome to your home as he would if—" +</p> + +<p> +"If what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Well, if I weren't the person I am." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, he's trusted me and treated me as if he really liked me; and +yet under the circumstances you can't expect him actually to mean +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Mean what? What are you talking about?" +</p> + +<p> +"Hasn't he spoken to you about my father?" +</p> + +<p> +"Of course not; why should he?" +</p> + +<p> +"Then you haven't heard anything?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not a word. I don't understand what you are driving at at all," Bob +declared, somewhat irritated. "Out with it. What's the matter?" +</p> + +<p> +Van hesitated as if uncertain how to begin. +</p> + +<p> +"That's mighty white of your father," he murmured, breaking the +pause. "You see, it is this way. When I wrote home that I was going +to New Hampshire to visit my roommate the family wrote me to go +ahead. I recall now that I didn't mention your last name; in fact I +guess I haven't in any of my letters. When I did happen to write +(which wasn't often) I've always spoken of you as <i>Bob</i>. So +when I got to Allenville I dropped a line to Father to say I'd +arrived safely and in the note I put something about Mr. Carlton. +Father lit on it right away; he wished to know who these Carltons +were. I replied they were Mr. and Mrs. Carlton, of course—the +parents of my roommate. Upon that I got another letter from home in +which Father inquired if your father was in the sugar business, and +said that years ago he used to have a partner named James Carlton, +who started in the sugar trade with him and with whom he later +quarreled. He supposed this could not be the same person, but he +just wondered if by any chance it was." +</p> + +<p> +Van stopped. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that all he said?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, but I don't like to tell you the rest, Bobbie." +</p> + +<p> +"Fire away—unless it is something about Dad," Bob replied. "If it +is I shan't listen, or at least I shan't believe it." +</p> + +<p> +"It isn't exactly against your father. I do not understand it very +well myself. My father just said that if your father was Mr. James +Carlton and he was in the sugar business he felt that because of +family misunderstandings it would be better if I did not visit here +again. He was very sorry I had done it this time, but of course that +could not be helped now." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mean to say he wants you to break off your friendship +with me?" Bob gasped tremulously. +</p> + +<p> +"No, he didn't seem to be opposed to you; he just was hot at your +dad. He added that he didn't believe your family could have known +who I was when they asked me here, and I am afraid that's true, +Bobbie." +</p> + +<p> +"Why, of course they knew! Haven't I spoken of you over and over +again?" Bob protested indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +Van shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +"They knew I was your chum all right, Bob; but so far as details +were concerned your family did not know much more about me than mine +knew about you. Don't you recall how, when I arrived at Allenville, +your father asked if I was one of the <i>Sugar Blakes</i>—Asa +Blake's son?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, I do remember that now, but—" +</p> + +<p> +"That, you will recollect, was after I was landed at Allenville and +your guest. Your father didn't know until that moment who I was, and +when he found out he was too decent to say anything, or make it +evident he didn't want me in the house. What could he do?" +</p> + +<p> +"But—but—" +</p> + +<p> +Bob broke off from sheer inability to continue. He was much too +bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +"Your father sensed the awkwardness of the situation at once. Here +you had gone to school and as ill luck would have it you had picked +from out the entire bunch of boys the son of his worst enemy for a +chum. Neither your father nor mine realized the truth until you +innocently carted me home with you for a holiday visit. When your +father found out the fact he was too polite to turn me out-of-doors; +he just acted the gentleman and made the best of a bad dilemma," +explained Van with appalling convincingness. "He even had the +goodness to save my life the day we got lost on one of your New +Hampshire mountains. He didn't tell you any of this because he +didn't want to spoil your pleasure; but I am certain that if he had +known who I was before I came he would not have allowed you to ask +me into your home." +</p> + +<p> +"Nonsense! You are way off. Why, he's been as interested in having +you with us as I have; at least he has acted so." +</p> + +<p> +"<i>Acted</i> is just the word," Van cut in. "He has acted, all +right. I guess you'll find he's been acting all the time. Honor +bright, hasn't he said anything to you about me?" +</p> + +<p> +"No, not one word." Then suddenly Bob flushed; the memory of his +father's strange conversation about the boy's visit to the refinery +rushed over him. "Dad did say one thing which I did not understand +at the time," he confessed reluctantly. "Perhaps, though, he did not +mean anything by it." +</p> + +<p> +"What was it?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob struggled to evade the issue. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, it was nothing much." +</p> + +<p> +"Come, Bobbie, you and I are friends," interrupted Van, "and we want +to keep on being friends no matter how our fathers feel toward one +another. If they have quarreled it is a great pity, but at least we +needn't. The only way to straighten out this tangle is to be honest +with each other and get at the truth; then, and not until then shall +we know where we stand." +</p> + +<p> +"You're a brick, Van!" +</p> + +<p> +"Come ahead then—let's have it. What was it your father said?" +</p> + +<p> +"He merely asked whether it was your plan or mine to visit the +refinery, and when I told him I suggested it he inquired all over +again if I was sure you did not mention it first," Bob returned in +very low tone. The words seemed wrung from him, and he colored as he +repeated them. +</p> + +<p> +"Was that all?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not quite. After I had convinced him that the trip was my own idea +he said: '<i>Well, well—it can do no harm; the process is an open +secret, anyway.</i>'" +</p> + +<p> +"You see I was right in my guess as to his feelings, Bobbie." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course I was; this proves it." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid so," whispered Bob miserably. +</p> + +<p> +"Now all this may explain to you why I was so queer when we were at +the refinery this morning," Van continued, once more reverting to +the subject. "Do you understand it any better?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can see you didn't want Mr. Hennessey to tell you much about his +processes." +</p> + +<p> +"You bet I didn't. I was in an awful hole. I got that letter from my +father just before we left the house, and I was all upset over it. +I didn't know what to do. It was bad enough to be visiting you without +being shown all through your father's business plant as if I were an +honored guest. It didn't seem as if I ought to go at all. If your +father knew who I was he certainly couldn't want me to; and if he +didn't it was worse yet. At first I thought the only honorable thing +was to go straight to him and have it out; but I found I hadn't the +nerve. Then I thought I'd ride with you to the factory and not go +in. What I dreaded was that we might run into something that I +should have no right to see, and that was precisely what happened." +</p> + +<p> +"So that was the reason you stopped Mr. Hennessey when he started to +tell us the chemical formula?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. He said it was a secret, and it seemed to me it would be wrong +for me to listen. If I didn't know what that formula was I certainly +couldn't tell it, and ignorance might help me out of an awkward +position if any one should try to persuade me to." +</p> + +<p> +"You are a trump, old man." +</p> + +<p> +"It was only the square thing toward your father; he has been +straight with me and I want to show him that I can be a gentleman, +too." +</p> + +<p> +The boys were silent for an interval; then Bob said: +</p> + +<p> +"Now about this snarl, Van—what are we going to do? Certainly we +fellows are not going to let this feud of our fathers affect us." +</p> + +<p> +"Not by a jugful!" retorted Van with spirit. "The thing for us to do +is to go right on being friends as if nothing had happened. It will +make it all the easier that your father knows just who I am, and my +father knows exactly who you are; it is franker and more in the open +to have it so. If worse comes to worse we can talk the whole thing +out with our families, and tell them how we feel. I am sure both +your father and mine are too big to spoil a friendship like ours +because of some fuss they had years and years ago. No, sir! I'm +going to hold on to you, Bobbie, and," he added shyly, "I'm going to +hold on to your father, too, if he'll let me, for I like him." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm glad you like Dad," Bob said, flushing with pleasure. "I do +myself." +</p> + +<p> +"My dad isn't so bad, either," Van ventured with a dry little smile. +"Some time you shall see for yourself." +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so." +</p> + +<p> +"Then it is agreed that we'll stick together, no matter what +happens," said Van solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +"Sure thing!" +</p> + +<p> +"Promise." +</p> + +<p> +"You may bank on me," was Bob's earnest answer. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VII +</h3> + +<h3> +MR. CARLTON MAKES A WAGER AND WINS +</h3> + +<p> +As the boys sat at dinner that evening Mr. Carlton inquired about +their trip to the refinery, and with a humorous twinkle in his eye +added: +</p> + +<p> +"I do not suppose you would care to put in another day on factory +visiting, would you?" +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean, Dad?" asked Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"I was wondering whether you would like to see where some of our +sugar goes," was his father's answer. "Would you be interested to +take a tour through the Eureka Candy Factory to-morrow and learn how +candy is made?" +</p> + +<p> +"I should," responded Bob promptly. +</p> + +<p> +"And you, Van?" demanded Mr. Carlton with a kindly smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like it of all things," said Van, returning the smile frankly. +</p> + +<p> +"Very well. You shall spend to-morrow at the Eureka Company's +factory. They are big customers of ours and when I telephoned them +today they told me they would be glad to have you come, and promised +to show you all about." +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure they would want me to come, Mr. Carlton?" asked Van, +looking squarely into the eyes of the older man. +</p> + +<p> +"Why not? You're a chum of Bob's, aren't you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes. But, you see, that isn't all." +</p> + +<p> +With one searching glance Mr. Carlton scanned the lad's face. +</p> + +<p> +"No, Van," he replied with quiet emphasis, "that is not all. You are +more than Bob's chum—you are a friend of mine, too." +</p> + +<p> +The boy flushed. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd like to think so, Mr. Carlton." +</p> + +<p> +"I want you to know so, Van. I happened to see Mr. Hennessey," he +went on in a lower tone, "and he related to me that incident at the +factory. Of course he did not understand it, but I did—instantly. +I appreciated your sense of honor, my boy." +</p> + +<p> +"I wanted to be square." +</p> + +<p> +"You were a gentleman in the very best sense of the word." +</p> + +<p> +A great gladness glowed in Van's eyes, for terse as was the phrase +it bore to him the very recognition he had coveted from Bob's +father. Mr. Carlton, however, did not enlarge upon the subject, but +casting it swiftly into the background asked: +</p> + +<p> +"Are you sure you both would rather spend your last morning in New +York going through a candy factory than doing anything else? +Factories are tiresome places, you must remember." +</p> + +<p> +"But a candy factory could never be tiresome!" asserted Bob. +</p> + +<p> +His father laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"There are just as many miles in a candy factory as any other," he +replied. "Any of the men who work there would tell you that, I +fancy." +</p> + +<p> +"But they are such nice miles!" argued Bob. "Don't you say we go, +Van?" +</p> + +<p> +"I sure do. I want to see how they dip chocolates," Van answered. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all aboard to-morrow morning, then," Mr. Carlton said as he +lit his after-dinner cigar. +</p> + +<p> +"There's one thing, Dad, that it's only fair to warn you about," +called Bob, turning on the lowest step of the stairway to address +his father. "Our expedition may cost you something. You see they +probably won't let us eat any candy at the factory; we'll just have +to walk round with our eyes open and our hands crammed into our +pockets to keep from swiping it. All the time we'll be getting up a +tremendous candy appetite, and the minute we get outside we'll just +have to make a bee-line for the first candy shop in sight and get +filled up. So you must be prepared to cash in for refreshments." +</p> + +<p> +The corners of Mr. Carlton's mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile. +</p> + +<p> +"I'll agree to pay for as much candy as you care to eat," he said, +accepting the challenge without objection. +</p> + +<p> +Bob stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +"Do you mean it?" +</p> + +<p> +"Certainly. Why do you question it?" +</p> + +<p> +"But"—faltered Bob in amazement, "you never promised anything like +that before." +</p> + +<p> +"I may never promise it again, so make the most of it," was the dry +retort. +</p> + +<p> +Although Bob did not reply he by no means forgot the unprecedented +offer, and that the memory of it might be equally fresh in his +father's mind he spoke of it once again when the three parted the +next morning. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, Dad, we're off for the Bonbon World," he called as he passed +the library door where his father sat looking over the morning's +mail. "Remember you are going to O.K. any candy bills we run up." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm backing you for all you can eat," nodded Mr. Carlton. +</p> + +<p> +"Dad sure is game!" Bob declared as he and Van stepped into the +waiting motor-car and began their ride to the factory. "He'll play +it out, too. He never goes back on his word." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid he'll be in for something then," grinned Van. +</p> + +<p> +Both boys were more than ever convinced of the truth of this remark +when they entered the factory and were greeted by the mingled aroma +of chocolate, wintergreen and molasses. +</p> + +<p> +"I could eat ten pounds of chocolates this minute!" exclaimed Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Go easy. Remember, we've got to wait until we have made the entire +tour of this factory before we can have so much as a single caramel. +You mustn't go getting up your appetite so soon." +</p> + +<p> +"But smell it, Bobbie! Why, the whole place is one mellifluous +smudge. What do you say we chuck Colversham and get a job here? +Think of having pounds of candy—tons of it—around all the time! +Wouldn't it be a snap!" +</p> + +<p> +Van was cut short in his rhapsody by the approach of a pleasant +faced lad of about his own age who was dressed from head to foot in +white and wore a little white cap, across the front of which was +printed in gold letters the word <i>Eureka</i>. +</p> + +<p> +"Are you Mr. Carlton?" he inquired of Van. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not, but my chum is." +</p> + +<p> +"We were expecting you," the boy answered, turning to Bob. "I am to +show you and your friend through the works. Will you kindly step +this way?" +</p> + +<p> +Tagging at the heels of their white-robed guide Bob and Van made +their way through a large storeroom stacked to the ceiling with +fancy boxes of various sizes, shapes, and colors. +</p> + +<p> +"Give up Colversham, Bob, and maybe you could come here and wear a +white suit every day and personally conduct visitors through the +works; perhaps they'd even pay you in bonbons," whispered Van. +</p> + +<p> +"He must be about our age," returned Bob. "I wonder what they pay +him." +</p> + +<p> +"I'd lots rather have had a man take us round," said Van softly. "Do +you suppose this fellow knows anything?" +</p> + +<p> +All the way up in the elevator the two visitors watched the white-suited +boy curiously and when they alighted in the large, sun-flooded room +at the top of the factory they were still speculating as to his age +and how much he earned, and marveling that so young a representative +should have been selected to explain to them the candy industry. +</p> + +<p> +The room they entered was high and airy and at the further end of +it, moving amid steam that rose from a score of copper kettles, a +great many men in spotless white were hurrying about. +</p> + +<p> +"It is here that we start our candy making," said the boy who was +showing Bob about. "Into those copper kettles we put our mixture of +confectioners' sugar—confectioners' A, we call it—and corn syrup; +this combination forms the basis of almost every variety of candy +made. The kettles, as you will see, are heated by gas, which gives +a steady flame, and at the side of each one we have a thermometer by +which we can tell the exact temperature of the mixture. There is +also a glass disc set in the side of every kettle to enable us to +watch the boiling. The sugar and corn syrup are melted together and +cooked at the temperature which after repeated experiments has +proved the most successful for our purpose—one that will neither +burn nor stick, or make the cooled fondant too thin to keep its +shape." +</p> + +<p> +The boy spoke in the slow, measured tones of one who had told the +tale many times before and was quite accustomed to his task. +</p> + +<p> +Bob glanced at Van. +</p> + +<p> +Their respect for the lad was rising. +</p> + +<p> +"How much does one of these kettles hold?" Bob asked. +</p> + +<p> +"About six hundred pounds." +</p> + +<p> +"And you fill all of them every day?" demanded Van in astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +"Several times over," was the answer. "It takes a lot of this ground +material for the different kinds; some of it has other ingredients +mixed with it later, and some is beaten, flavored, and colored for +the fillings of chocolates." +</p> + +<p> +"But who on earth eats so much candy?" ejaculated Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know," responded the boy wearily. "I'm sure I don't." +</p> + +<p> +"What?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe I'd touch a piece of candy for a hundred dollars," +he continued. "I am sick of the sight of it. Candy from morning to +night—candy, candy, candy! Candy everywhere! Nothing but candy." +</p> + +<p> +Bob and Van eyed him unbelievingly. +</p> + +<p> +Could a boy be human and feel that way? +</p> + +<p> +"Everybody here gets into the same state of mind," the lad went on. +"When the green hands come they are crazy about the stuff for about +a couple of days; then it is all over. You couldn't hire them to +eat. Every few weeks the different employees are allowed to buy two +pounds for themselves at the wholesale price, but you would be +surprised to see how few of them do it. If they get it you can be +pretty certain that it is to give away, for they'd never eat it +themselves." +</p> + +<p> +His two listeners stared incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +Their guide led them across the room. +</p> + +<p> +"So," said he, reverting once more to the kettles and the +thermometer, "our candy is not made by guesswork, you see. Sugar +costs too much to risk having such a large batch as a kettleful +spoiled. We boil it by the thermometer, and when it is at just the +right point we take it off and put it into these coolers, where it +thickens and is reduced to a workable temperature. That which is to +be used as filling is then shifted into these big cylindrical cans +that have inside them a series of revolving fingers and here the +candy is beaten until quite smooth; whatever flavoring or coloring +matter is needed is beaten into it." +</p> + +<p> +As the machinery whirled the boys stood watching the beaters. +</p> + +<p> +"Some of this beaten sugar will be colored pink, flavored with rose +or wintergreen, and used for the centers of chocolate; some will +have maple flavoring, some vanilla, some lemon. Nuts will be stirred +into some of the rest of it. There is an almost endless number of +ways in which it may be varied. Come over here and see them +preparing the centers and getting them ready to cover with +chocolate." +</p> + +<p> +It was an interesting process. +</p> + +<p> +Shallow wooden trays filled with dry corn-starch passed beneath a +machine which left in them rows of empty holes the size of the heart +of a chocolate cream. The trays then moved on until they stopped +just under a nozzle, which ran exactly the right amount of liquid +filling into each hole. The dryness of the corn-starch prevented the +mixture from flowing together. As soon as every hole in the tray was +filled with fondant it was set away to cool and an empty tray +substituted. When the little centers were hard enough they were +taken out of the corn-starch moulds, and after being put upon +traveling strips of fine wire netting, melted chocolate was poured +over them. The wire frames sped along like miniature moving +sidewalks, their contents drying and cooling on the way. In the +meantime the superfluous chocolate dripped through the netting into +a trough beneath and was collected to be melted over again. On went +the finished chocolates until they reached the packing-room, where +girls removed them from the frames, sorted them, and put them into +boxes. +</p> + +<p> +"These are not what is known as hand-dipped or fork-dipped +chocolates," explained the boy. "Those are higher priced, because +they require individual attention, and the material put into them is +more expensive. To make those the girls take the centers and +submerge each one in melted chocolate with a dipping-fork, finishing +the pieces with a certain little twist or decoration on top; it +requires no small amount of skill to make this top-knot, which not +only serves to render the candy more attractive but to distinguish +one variety of filling from another. Each kind has its own +particular decoration. After some practice any of us might, I +suppose, learn to make the twist on a chocolate once; but to make +that precise thing each time and never vary it would be quite a +different matter. It is important the pattern should be uniform, +since both the dippers and the packers must know what is inside; in +addition those who sell the candy must know. It is no easy task. +After the chocolates are finished <i>Eureka</i> is stamped on the +bottom of every piece and they are ready to be sold." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't see what prevents your candy from sticking to everything," +observed Van thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +[Illustration: "IT IS NO EASY TASK"] +</p> + +<p> +"Blasts of cool air that come through those overhead pipes. We can +turn on the current whenever we wish. Whenever the girls who are +packing candy find that it is becoming soft they turn on a current +of cold air to chill and harden it; we often use these cool blasts, +too, when handling candies in the process of making. Such kinds as +butter-scotch, hoarhound, and the pretty twisted varieties stick +together very easily. If they are allowed to become lumpy or marred +they are useless for the trade and have to be melted over." +</p> + +<p> +"What are those men over there doing?" inquired Bob, pointing to a +group of workmen who were stirring a seething mixture of nuts and +molasses. +</p> + +<p> +"Some of them are making peanut brittle, some caramels; and in the +last kettle I believe they are boiling hoarhound candy. See! The +last man is ready to empty his upon the table. Suppose we go over +and watch him." +</p> + +<p> +They reached the spot just in time to see the kettle lifted and the +hot candy poured out upon the metal top of the table, where it +spread itself like a small, irregular pond. At once the workman in +charge took up a steel bar not unlike a metal yardstick and began +pressing down the mass to a uniform thickness. This done he ran the +bar deftly beneath and turned the vast piece over just as one would +flop over some gigantic griddle-cake. He continued to change it from +side to side, pressing it down in any spot where it was too thick, +but never once touching it with his hands. He then cut off a long +narrow strip and fed it into a machine at his elbow, the boys +regarding him expectantly. Suddenly, to their great surprise, the +formless ribbon of candy that had gone into the machine began to +come forth at the other end in prettily marked discs, each with the +firm name stamped upon it. +</p> + +<p> +"Hoarhound tablets, you see," observed the boy. "The Italian who is +making peanut brittle has flattened his on the table in the same +fashion and marked it into bars which later will be cut and wrapped +in paraffine paper." +</p> + +<p> +"I never realized so much candy was manufactured in one day," +exclaimed Bob as they went down in the elevator. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, this isn't much," returned the boy. "We are running light just +now. You should come a few weeks before Christmas if you want to see +things hum here." +</p> + +<p> +"I guess that would be a good time for visitors to keep out," +returned Bob as they smilingly bade good-bye to their guide and +started home in the motor-car. +</p> + +<p> +As the automobile glided into Fifth Avenue Van said: +</p> + +<p> +"Look, Bobbie, there's a candy shop! I suppose all that stuff in the +window was made in exactly the same way as those things we saw to-day, +don't you?" +</p> + +<p> +But Bob did not turn his head. +</p> + +<p> +Instead he replied: +</p> + +<p> +"Don't say candy to me. I do not want to lay eyes on another piece +of it for a week!" +</p> + +<p> +"Nor I!" Van echoed. "Do you wonder that boy at the factory feels as +he does? I guess your father can keep his money so far as we are +concerned. He'll have no candy bills from us." +</p> + +<p class="t3"> + * * * * *<br /> +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Mr. Carlton waited for the tremendous bonbon bill +that had threatened to reduce his bank account, and when it was not +forthcoming he nodded his head and chuckled quietly to himself. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER VIII +</h3> + +<h3> +VAN MUTINIES +</h3> + +<p> +Another day passed and Bob and Van were once more back at Colversham +greeting the boys and vainly endeavoring to settle down to the work +of the last term. +</p> + +<p> +"It seems as if the stretch from April to June is about the hardest +pull of the whole year," yawned Van, looking up for the twentieth +time from his Latin lesson and gazing out into the sunny campus. +"Studying is bad enough at best, but when the trout brooks begin to +run and the canoeing is good it is a deadly proposition to be cooped +up in this room hammering away for the finals." +</p> + +<p> +"It always seems worse after a vacation," agreed Bob, tilting back +in his chair. "You'll get back into the harness, though, in a day or +two; you know you always yap just about so much when you first get +back to school." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't yap, as you call it, any worse than most fellows do. I hate +being tied up like a pup on a leash. It seems as if I'd just have to +get out and play ball—and if you were a human being you'd want to, +too," growled Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Hang it all, don't you suppose I want to?" Bob retorted. "What do +you think I'm made of, anyway?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know, Bobbie. Sometimes you're so resigned I begin to fear +you are a mummy," was Van's laughing retort. "Now, I'm not like +that. It is one big grind for me to study. The minute spring comes +it seems as if I never could translate another line of Cicero as +long as I lived, and I don't care a hurray what X equals. What will +it matter a hundred years hence whether we plug away here at this +stuff, or get out and play ball?" +</p> + +<p> +"I guess you'd find it would matter to you right now without waiting +for the end of a century," was the laconic answer. "But speaking of +ball, what wouldn't you give to see the first League game of the +season in town, Saturday? That will be some playing!" +</p> + +<p> +"I clean forgot the season opened this week," exclaimed Van. "Since +I got back here I've been all mixed up on dates. I thought it was +next week. Are you sure it's Saturday?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Positive." +</p> + +<p> +"It'll be a cracker-jack game," mused Van. "I'd give something to be +there. You don't suppose we could get off at noon and go, do you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Not on your life! Right now, after vacation? What do you take this +school faculty for—an entertainment committee? You seem to forget +we'd have to cut algebra, and English, and gym." +</p> + +<p> +"I shouldn't care." +</p> + +<p> +"I should. I'm working this trip, and can't afford to miss +recitations," was Bob's sharp reply. "As for you, you can afford to +miss them even less than I can—you know that. Put it out of your +head. When you can't do a thing there is no use thinking about it +and wishing you could." +</p> + +<p> +"I see no earthly harm in talking about it." +</p> + +<p> +"I do. It just keeps you stirred up." +</p> + +<p> +"Then what did you mention it for in the beginning?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. I wish to goodness I hadn't," Bob declared. +</p> + +<p> +"Well, in spite of your opinions I repeat I'd give a fiver to see +that game Saturday." +</p> + +<p> +"You can't, so cut it out and let me finish this theme. Every time +I've started to write you've broken in and driven every blooming +idea out of my head. Now quit it. You better pitch into your own +work for to-morrow. Dig out all the Cicero you can, and later I'll +help you with the rest." +</p> + +<p> +With finality Bob wheeled his chair around and proceeded to submerge +himself in his task. +</p> + +<p> +But not so Van. He took up his book, to be sure, but over the top of +it his eyes roved to the world outside, and fixed themselves +dreamily on the line of hills that peeped above the tips of the red +maples budding in the school campus. He was far away from Colversham +and its round of duties. In imagination he moved with a gay, eager +crowd through the gateway leading into the great city ball ground. +He could hear the game called; watch the first swirl of the ball as +it curved from the pitcher's hand; catch the sharp click of the bat +against it; and join in the roar of applause as the swift-footed +runner sped to second base. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody would be at that opening game! +</p> + +<p> +Not to go when it was within trolley distance was absurd. +</p> + +<p> +What was algebra, English, or a little wall-scaling compared to such +an opportunity? +</p> + +<p> +And, anyway, who would be the wiser? +</p> + +<p> +There must be ways of getting off so nobody, not even Bob, would +know. +</p> + +<p> +If only Bob could be persuaded to cut school! +</p> + +<p> +But it was never any use to urge Bob when he spoke in that horribly +positive tone. You might just as well try to move a lighthouse. +</p> + +<p> +Van glanced furtively at his chum who, unconscious of his scrutiny, +was writing steadily down a long page of foolscap. The sight had a +steadying effect. Van again took up his book and scowled once more +at that same old line at the top of the page. But all the time +between his eyes and his Latin lesson swayed that alluring throng of +pleasure seekers. Impatiently he tried to banish them, but stern as +was his attempt their laughter still sounded in his ears. Against +his will he was back at the ball game, and this time he was on his +feet shouting wildly with the other fans as Carruth, the star +batter, made a soaring hit and stole two bases on it. In that +instant of unreined enthusiasm Van Blake decided that come what +might he would go to the game on Saturday—go even though his whole +term's work went for naught. +</p> + +<p> +The resolve made he tried to stifle his conscience by falling upon +his Latin with unwonted zeal, and so ardently did he wrestle with it +that when, an hour later, Bob pushed aside his papers and offered to +help him with the lesson he was able to greet his chum with a +translation so far beyond his customary efforts that Bob patted him +on the head with paternal pride, exclaiming: +</p> + +<p> +"Bully for you, old man! That's about the best work I ever knew of +your doing. The middle of it is a little queer, but we'll fix that +up all right. Who says you're not a Cicero?" +</p> + +<p> +"Bobbie, if I thought for one moment that there was any danger of my +becoming a Cicero or any other Latin worthy I'd go drown myself!" +Van cried, startled at the mere thought. "I'm not so worse, though, +am I? I'd no idea I could reel it off like that." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course you can do it. Why, Van, you could do all kinds of things +if you'd only go at them. The trouble with you is that you always +study with one eye out the window. If you'd only get down to your +job with all your might you'd not only get your lessons better but +you'd learn them in half the time." +</p> + +<p> +"I 'spect that's so," drawled Van lazily. "I ought to duff right in +on all fours. I acknowledge it. But it is not so easy to make your +mind go where you send it." +</p> + +<p> +He broke off, shifting the subject to athletics, and was in the +highest spirits the rest of the day; but underneath all his fun and +banter the question constantly arose in his inner consciousness: How +could he elude his roommate's watchfulness and on the coming +Saturday escape to the great game? +</p> + +<p> +Strangely enough Fortune seemed to smile upon his plot, for Friday +morning Bob was taken to the infirmary with a sore throat, which, +although slight, isolated him from the rest of the boys. No longer +was he at Van's elbow to watch, warn, or censure. +</p> + +<p> +The coast was entirely clear. +</p> + +<p> +Van formulated his plans. +</p> + +<p> +Directly after luncheon on Saturday he would start for the city, +hugging the edge of the campus and afterward cutting across the +adjoining estate to meet the car line where it forked into the main +road. Many another boy had done the same and not been caught; why +not he? It was, to be sure, against the rules to leave the school +grounds without permission, but one must take a chance now and then. +Did not half the spice of life lay in risks? +</p> + +<p> +Accordingly after the noonday meal was finished and the boys had +scattered to recitations or the dormitories Van sauntered idly out +past the tennis-courts; across the field skirting the golf course +and then with one sudden plunge was behind the gymnasium and running +like a deer for the thicket that separated Colversham from the +Sawyer estate. He knew the lay of the land perfectly, for this short +cut was a favorite thoroughfare of the boys, in spite of the posted +protest of <i>No Trespassing</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Creeping cautiously through the shelter of the orchard he contrived +to escape observation and reach the highway in safety; at this quiet +noon hour the road was entirely deserted save for the presence of +one small boy who was jogging on ahead, a dinner pail upon his arm. +He was a slender little fellow of six or seven years who whistled +shrilly as he went and kicked up clouds of dust with his bare feet. +As Van watched the sway of his shoulders and the unhampered tread of +his unshod feet he could not but recall the days when he, too, had +gloried in going barefoot. He smiled at the memory which now seemed +so absurd. +</p> + +<p> +A slight sound behind him broke in upon his reverie. +</p> + +<p> +Bounding the turn just at his back swept a big scarlet touring-car +driven by a solitary man. It was coming at tremendous speed and no +horn had given warning of its noiseless approach. Van had but an +instant to step out of its path when on it shot, bearing down on the +unconscious boy ahead. The little chap was walking in the middle of +the road and whistling so loudly that no hint of the oncoming danger +reached him. The man in the motor saw the child and sounding his +horn, swerved to the left; but it was too late. The speeding car +caught the lad, struck him, and tossed him to the roadside rushing +on in its mad flight faster, if anything, than before. +</p> + +<p> +In vain did Van call after it. +</p> + +<p> +His protest was useless. +</p> + +<p> +The great red vehicle whirled forward, a speck in the sunshine, and +was lost to view. +</p> + +<p> +Terror-stricken Van darted to the child's side and bent over him. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were closed and an ugly gash in his forehead was bleeding +profusely. +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +[Illustration: NO HORN HAD GIVEN WARNING] +</p> + +<p> +Binding a handkerchief round the little fellow's head the older boy +lifted him in his arms and retracing his steps ran with him down the +road, across the Sawyer lawn, and up the steps of the Colversham +infirmary. +</p> + +<p> +A young orderly who was lounging at the door came forward and on +seeing the child's face spoke quickly to a physician who was passing +through the hall. Together they took the little boy from Van's arms +and carried him to a cot in an adjoining room, anxiously plying Van +with questions as they went. +</p> + +<p> +Briefly Van related the story. +</p> + +<p> +"Such men should be hung! Prison is too good for them!" snapped the +doctor angrily. +</p> + +<p> +He passed his hand with infinite tenderness over the tiny, still +form on the bed. +</p> + +<p> +"Is he much hurt, sir?" questioned Van eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +"I can't tell yet. He is hurt enough so that he doesn't come to his +senses, poor little chap! Here, Jackson, ring for a couple of +nurses. We'll get the child up-stairs." +</p> + +<p> +Van tagged behind them more because he was anxious to hear of the +lad's condition than because he could be of any real use. +</p> + +<p> +As the sad procession left the elevator, emerging into the corridor +on the second floor, a tall man who was coming down the stairway +confronted them. +</p> + +<p> +It was Dr. Maitland, the principal of the school! +</p> + +<p> +"What's this?" he asked, advancing with swift stride. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor hurriedly explained the circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +"A motor accident on the Claybrook Road, you say? Well, well! Poor +little chap! Who brought him in?" +</p> + +<p> +"This lad—one of the schoolboys. You showed good judgment, Blake, +and it was a mighty fortunate thing that you were there," observed +the surgeon, passing on. +</p> + +<p> +"The Claybrook Road?" repeated the puzzled principal. "You were on +the Claybrook Road, Blake? And what were you doing there at this +time of day?" +</p> + +<p> +With throbbing heart Van suddenly came to himself. +</p> + +<p> +Up to that instant no thought of his own peculiar plight had crossed +his mind. Now the reality of his dilemma rushed upon him with +pitiless force. +</p> + +<p> +"May I ask," repeated the principal in measured tone, "what were you +doing on the Claybrook Road at this hour, Blake?" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER IX +</h3> + +<h3> +VAN'S GREAT DEED +</h3> + +<p> +Dr Maitland, who was a man of unswerving justice, was influenced in +his judgments neither by pity nor explanations, and thus it came +about that when Van had answered his questions, putting before him +the facts about his runaway, the principal sent the boy to his own +room to there await sentence Van was in the lowest of spirits. What +would the penalty of his insurrection be? He knew Dr. Maitland far +too well to expect mercy, nor did he wish it. He was too proud for +that. He had disobeyed the rules of the school, and he must now bear +the punishment, be it what it would. The thought of holding back the +facts had never entered his mind. Indolent he sometimes was even to +laziness but never within his memory had he been dishonest. So he +had fearlessly told the truth, and despite the calamity it +threatened he found himself the happier for telling it. Whether it +would mean expulsion from Colversham he did not know; probably it +would. +</p> + +<p> +To think of leaving Colversham, the place he loved so much! And in +disgrace, too. What would the other boys say? And his father? +</p> + +<p> +Van shrank at the thought of telling his father. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Blake was a severe man who, like Dr. Maitland, would not gloss +over the affair either by tolerance or sympathy. He would be angry, +and he would have the right to be. Van admitted that. As he looked +back on his school days he realized for the first time how indulgent +his father had been; he had denied his son no reasonable wish, +simply asking in return that the boy express his gratitude by +studiousness and obedience. Van flushed as with vividness it came to +his consciousness that he had repaid his father's goodness with +neither of these things. He had studied just as little as was +possible, and in place of appreciation he had rendered nothing but +disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +His self-esteem was at a very low ebb when Bob, dismissed from the +infirmary, returned to his old quarters. Van was seldom depressed—so +seldom, in fact, that the sight aroused in his chum nothing but an +anxiety lest he be ill. Surely nothing but sickness could cause Van +Blake to lie on a couch, his face buried in pillows! +</p> + +<p> +"What's the matter, old fellow?" called Bob the instant he was +inside the door. "Are you used up?" +</p> + +<p> +No answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I say, what's the trouble?" Bob repeated, hurrying to his side. +</p> + +<p> +It took much questioning before the story could be drawn from the +boy's reluctant lips. +</p> + +<p> +"When Bob had at last heard it he was silent. +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you say something?" queried Van peevishly. +</p> + +<p> +"I hardly know what to say," Bob answered with slow gentleness. "I'm +so sorry—so sorry and upset. I can't for the life of me understand +how you came to do such a thing. Did you expect to get away with it? +You must have known you would be missed at recitations and tracked +down." +</p> + +<p> +"That's right—rub it in!" +</p> + +<p> +"I'm not rubbing it in; I'm only trying to understand it." +</p> + +<p> +"There's nothing to understand. I just was crazy to go to that ball +game and I started. I should have gone, too, if it hadn't been for +the kid getting hurt." +</p> + +<p> +"It was bully of you to bring him back, anyway," Bob said. "Of +course you knew it was all up with you when you did it." +</p> + +<p> +"I didn't think about it at all. I wasn't thinking of anything but +that poor little chap who was mowed down by the brute in that car. +If I hadn't happened to hear the motor it might have been me +instead. I wish it had been," he declared gloomily. +</p> + +<p> +"No you don't. Great Scott, cheer up, Van! The country hasn't gone +to the dogs yet. I must admit you are in a mess; but it doesn't +begin to be the mess it would have been if you had gone to the game, +had a bang-up time, and come home a sneak who had stolen his fun. At +least you have done the square thing and 'fessed up, and now you'll +be man enough to take what's coming to you. What do you suppose +Maitland will do?" +</p> + +<p> +"I can guess pretty well—pack me off home. He is stiff as a ramrod +on obedience to the school rules," sighed Van, "and he's right, too. +It is perfectly fair. I knew it when I went." +</p> + +<p> +"I can't see, just for one afternoon of sport, how you—" Bob broke +off. "If I'd only been here you never would have gone." +</p> + +<p> +"Maybe not," admitted Van. Then he added in the same breath: "No, I +shouldn't have gone if you had been here, Bobbie. Somehow you're my +good angel. I wrote Father so the other day." +</p> + +<p> +"Stuff!" +</p> + +<p> +"It's true. You are such a brick! I thought you'd blow my head off +when you'd heard what I'd done." +</p> + +<p> +"Well, I am mad enough to do it," was the tart reply. "For you to go +and do a thing like that just for a ball game! It wasn't worth it. +Think of your being pitched out of Colversham for a measly game of +baseball. And you didn't get there, either!" +</p> + +<p> +Van kicked the pillows impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +"Don't light into me, Bobbie," he moaned. "Don't I feel bad enough +as it is?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know whether you do or not; you ought to." +</p> + +<p> +"I do, Bob. I'm dead sorry." +</p> + +<p> +"If you'd stay sorry it might do some good," returned Bob. A sudden +thought seemed to strike him. He did not speak for a few moments; +then he said half aloud: "Who knows—it might help." +</p> + +<p> +"What might help?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nothing." +</p> + +<p> +Bob got up and sauntered to the door. +</p> + +<p> +"Will you stay right here like a decent chap and not get into any +more mischief until I get back?" +</p> + +<p> +"Where are you going?" +</p> + +<p> +"Nowhere much—just across the campus for a little while. I'll be +back soon. Will you wait here exactly where you are?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, but—" +</p> + +<p> +"Honor bright?" +</p> + +<p> +"Sure!" +</p> + +<p> +"All right. Don't quit this room until I come. So long!" +</p> + +<p> +Bob was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Van lay very still after the door had closed, and to keep him +company in his solitude back swarmed all those dreary thoughts that +Bob's cheery presence had for the time being banished; with a rush +they came to jeer, taunt, and terrify. +</p> + +<p> +The <i>little while</i> lengthened into an hour and on into a second +one. +</p> + +<p> +The room became intolerable. +</p> + +<p> +Then upon the stone floor of the corridor outside sounded Bob's +foot. +</p> + +<p> +"Still here, Van?" he cried, coming in with elastic step and banging +the door after him. +</p> + +<p> +His face was wreathed in smiles. +</p> + +<p> +"What's happened to you that you look like that?" questioned Van, +sitting up among the pillows. +</p> + +<p> +"Like what?" +</p> + +<p> +"Why, as if somebody had sent you a Christmas-tree or made you +president of a railroad?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob laughed. +</p> + +<p> +"I've been to see the Head," he said. +</p> + +<p> +"Humph! I never knew of his causing any one such overwhelming +delight," observed Van a little spitefully. +</p> + +<p> +"Hush up, old man; don't run down the Doctor," Bob said. "You may +have more cause to be grateful to him than you know." +</p> + +<p> +"You don't mean—" Van's voice trembled. "Did you go to see him +about me?" +</p> + +<p> +Bob nodded. +</p> + +<p> +"Bob! How did you dare?" +</p> + +<p> +"I dare do anything that becomes a man; who dares do more is none," +quoted Bob merrily. "I don't believe, though, I'd have dared go for +myself," he answered. "It is different when you are doing it for +some one else. Now sit up and listen and I'll tell you all about it. +The Doctor was mighty white about you; but in spite of all he stuck +to the fact that you'd disobeyed the rules; he kept going back to +that every time I tried to switch him off. We squabbled over you a +solid hour, and the upshot of it was this: you are to stay at +Colversham—" +</p> + +<p> +"Hurrah!" +</p> + +<p> +Van hurled a pillow into the air. +</p> + +<p> +"Shut up and hear the rest of it. You are to stay here because I +promised upon my word of honor that you would keep straight and +study." +</p> + +<p> +"I'll do it." +</p> + +<p> +"That isn't all." +</p> + +<p> +Bob hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +It was a wrench for him to deliver the remainder of the message. +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, you are to stay," he repeated as if to gain time. "But of +course you can't expect to slip through with no punishment at all." +</p> + +<p> +"No, indeed!" +</p> + +<p> +Still Van spoke with jaunty hopefulness. +</p> + +<p> +"The Doctor thinks it is only fair that you should be pretty +severely reminded of what you've done." +</p> + +<p> +"That's all right. I'm not afraid. Fire ahead! What's he going to do +with me?" +</p> + +<p> +"He thinks—he says—he feels it is best—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, come on, come on—out with it!" +</p> + +<p> +"He has forbidden you to take any part in the school athletics this +spring," was the reluctant whisper. +</p> + +<p> +Van did not speak. +</p> + +<p> +"I'm mighty sorry, old fellow," declared Bob, "but it was the best +I could do." +</p> + +<p> +Still Van made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +With troubled gaze Bob regarded his chum. +</p> + +<p> +"I'd far rather Maitland had knocked me out," he ventured at last. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping, he put his hand on Van's shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +Van roused himself and looked up into his friend's face with one of +his quick smiles. +</p> + +<p> +"It's all right, Bob," he said. "Don't you fuss about me any more. +You were a trump to get me off as well as you did. I'll take my +medicine without whimpering. I ought to bless my stars that my +banishment from athletics is only temporary. Suppose I had been +smashed up so I could never play another game like that little kid, +Tim McGrew," he shuddered. "It was just sheer luck that saved me. +Why, do you suppose, he should have been the one to be crippled and +I go scot free?" he observed meditatively. +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know. Maybe because there is something in the world that +only you can do. My father believes that." +</p> + +<p> +"Do you?" +</p> + +<p> +"I don't know." +</p> + +<p> +"It would be strange, wouldn't it, to feel you were let off just to +do something?" mused Van. "You'd be wondering all the time what it +was. Of course it would be something big." +</p> + +<p> +"You could never tell what it was," Bob replied, falling in with his +friend's mood. "I suppose the only way to make sure would be to do +whatever came to you the best way you could do it. You never could +be sure that what you were doing was not the great thing." +</p> + +<p> +"Not studying and stuff like that." +</p> + +<p> +"It might be; or at least studying might lead to it." +</p> + +<p> +"I don't believe it." +</p> + +<p> +"It wouldn't hurt you to try it." +</p> + +<p> +"No, I suppose not." Then with characteristic caprice Van shifted +the subject. "But seriously, Bobbie, there is something I am going +to do. You'll howl, I guess, and maybe you'll be disappointed, too. +It's about that sick kid, Tim McGrew. The surgeon says the little beggar +will never walk again. I feel pretty sore about it; I suppose +because I was there," explained Van uneasily. "I've about decided to +chip in the money Father was going to send me for a canoe and get a +wheel chair for him. His folks are poor, and can't get one, and the +doctor says—" +</p> + +<p> +"You're a—" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, shut up, can't you, Bobbie? It's only because I'm so cut up +about the accident. Remember, it might have been me instead of him. +You won't mind much if we don't have the canoe, will you?" +</p> + +<p> +"No," was the low answer. +</p> + +<p> +Neither of the boys spoke for some time. +</p> + +<p> +Then Bob whispered: +</p> + +<p> +"Have you thought, Van, that maybe the thing you are to do is +something for that little lame boy, Tim McGrew?" +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER X +</h3> + +<h3> +HOW VAN BORE HIS PUNISHMENT +</h3> + +<p> +The spring term passed much faster than either Bob or Van dreamed it +would and despite the absence of athletics Van Blake found plenty to +do to fill the gap left by this customary activity. +</p> + +<p> +In the first place there was his studying. Had not Bob assumed an +obligation that must be lived up to and that was quite as binding as +if it existed on paper instead of in a mere invisible point of +honor? He was very grateful to Bob and had given bond that he would +live up to the pledge his chum had made for him. Now he must fulfil +his promise, Van argued. So although the call of the springtime was +strong and difficult to resist he had been faithful to his work, +"plugging away," as he expressed it, with all his strength. To his +surprise the task, so irksome at first, became interesting. It was +a novel experience to enter a classroom and instead of moving in a +mental haze possess a clear idea of what was going on. Twice he was +able to furnish the correct answers to Latin questions on which +every one else had failed, and what a thrill of satisfaction +accompanied the performance! +</p> + +<p> +The attitude of his teachers changed, too. Formerly they had been +polite; now they became even cordial, demonstrating by an +unsuspected friendliness that they were after all ordinary human +beings and rather likable ones at that. They were moreover amazingly +sympathetic and met every endeavor of Van's with generous aid. +Perhaps schools were not the prison-houses he had formerly thought +them! +</p> + +<p> +There had, of course, been no chance to conceal from the boys the +reason of his banishment from the ball field and tennis-courts; such +a story as the motor accident travels with insidious speed. Before +a day had passed from one end of Colversham to the other everybody +knew that Van Blake had disobeyed the school rules and had in +consequence forfeited his place in out-of-door sports. Van, however, +was a great favorite and the manly way in which he accepted his +penalty provoked nothing but admiration and respect from his +classmates. He frankly admitted his mistake, owning that while his +sentence was severe it was perfectly just; nor would he permit a +word of criticism of Dr. Maitland's decree to be voiced in his +hearing. +</p> + +<p> +"Maitland is all right!" was his hearty endorsement, and that remark +was the only encouragement his pals received when they came to +condone with him. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the affair dropped out of sight. Van went among the boys, +cheerily giving advice as to the make-up of the school teams and +even coaching the fellow who was to serve as his successor as +pitcher on the nine. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless there still remained quite a margin of leisure, and it +was during this lonely interval when every one else was training for +the coming games that he would stray off by himself and visit little +Tim McGrew. Between the two a peculiar friendship sprang up. On +Van's part it arose from forlornness mingled with a half formulated +belief that he must do something to express his thankfulness that he +himself had escaped from the fate that had overtaken the child. On +the small lad's side it had its root in gratitude and hero-worship. +In Tim's eyes Van Blake was an all-powerful person. Was it not he +who had picked him up and carried him to the hospital? And had not +this same big schoolboy bought the beautiful wheel-chair that +enabled one to travel about the house and yard almost as readily as +if on foot? In addition to all this was it not Van who came often to +the house, never forgetting to bring in his pocket some toy or +picture-book? Small things they often were—these gifts that meant +so much to the child—often things of very slight money value; but +to the invalid whose long, tedious days of convalescence were +stretches of monotony the tiny presents seemed treasures from an +enchanted land. +</p> + +<p> +Tim was now at home in the shabby cottage on the outskirts of +Colversham where he lived with his mother and four sisters. Poor as +the place was it was spotlessly neat and Tim's family were +spotlessly tidy too. Mrs. McGrew, who supported her household by +doing washing for some of the families in the town, might have had +a permanent and much more lucrative position elsewhere had it not been +for leaving her five little ones; as it was, she clung to her +children, struggling to meet her living expenses as best she could. +It had been a sore grief to her when Tim, her only boy and the baby +of the home, had become crippled. Perhaps she sensed more clearly +than did the lad the full seriousness of the calamity. As for Tim, +he accepted it in childish fashion, hopefully ignoring the problems +of the future. +</p> + +<p> +To Van Blake Mrs. McGrew was all gratitude. Of all her children her +boy was her favorite. +</p> + +<p> +"But for you, sir, little Timmie might have been left at the +roadside to die," she would exclaim over and over. "We'll never +forget it—never—neither I nor the children!" +</p> + +<p> +It was thus that Van became the hero of the McGrew household, and +the warmth and genuineness of the welcome he unfailingly received +there aroused in him an answering friendliness. Many a time when he +saw things either new or interesting he would find himself +instinctively saying: +</p> + +<p> +"I must tell Tim about that," or "I must take that to Tim." +</p> + +<p> +But with his enthronement as the sovereign of Tim's universe there +came to Van a very disquieting experience. Tim thought his big +friend knew everything, and in consequence whenever he became +puzzled about facts that were being read to him or that he heard he +would instantly appeal to Van, whom he was sure could right every +sort of dilemma that might arise. But too often the unlucky Van was +forced to blush and falter that he would have to look it up; and +when he did so he frequently learned something himself. For Tim +never forgot. No sooner would Van be inside the gate than the shrill +little voice would pipe: "And did you find out how far away Mars is, +Mr. Blake?" +</p> + +<p> +Poor Van, it kept him scrambling to satisfy Tim McGrew's +intellectual curiosity, yet there was a tang in the game that +rendered it very interesting. He found, too, ample reward in seeing +the wee invalid's face brighten when the query was answered. +</p> + +<p> +So the spring sped on. +</p> + +<p> +In the meantime Van had heard only irregularly from his parents. In +a long letter to his father he had sent all the facts of his +disgrace at school and had added that he was truly sorry; the reply +he received had been terse and rather stern but not unkind. Mr. +Blake expressed much regret for his son's conduct and closed his +epistle with the caustic comment that he should look for a proof of +Van's desire to make good. That was all. Van knew that Dr. Maitland +had also written; but what he did not know was that with the +fearlessness so characteristic of him Bob Carlton had taken the time +and trouble to pen a long note to Colorado as a plea for his chum. +It was a remarkable composition from a boy so young—a letter full +of affection and earnestness and voicing a surprising insight into +his friend's character and disposition. Mr. Blake read it over three +times, and when he finished sat in a reverie with it still between +his fingers. The tone of it was so like the man he had known long +ago, that friend from whom a misunderstanding that now seemed +pitiably trivial had separated him. It had been his fault; Mr. Blake +could see that now. He had been both hasty and unjust. Over him +surged a great wave of regret. Well, it was too late to mend the +matter at this late day. One chance was, however, left him—to make +up to the son for the injustice done the father. +</p> + +<p> +It therefore came about that at the close of the school term Bob +Carlton was overjoyed to receive from Van's parents an invitation to +come west with their boy and pass the summer holidays. Such a +miracle seemed too good to be a reality, and the lads' instant fear +was that the Carltons would be unwilling to spare Bob from home for +such a long time. To their surprise, however, Mr. Carlton welcomed +the plan with enthusiasm. A trip to Colorado would be a wonderful +opportunity, the educational value of which could scarcely be +estimated, he argued. Underneath this most excellent reason there +also existed on Mr. Carlton's part a desire to show his former +partner that he cherished no ill will for the past. Who knew but the +boy might even be a messenger of peace? +</p> + +<p> +So one June morning, after bidding good-bye to Colversham and to Tim +McGrew, the two lads set forth on their western journey. They were +in high spirits. Both had passed the examinations with honors, and +as Van thought of his achievement again and again he wondered if it +could be true that he was one of that light-hearted band who were +starting off on their summer vacation with no conditions to work +off. +</p> + +<p> +The solitary cloud on the horizon was the grief of little Tim at +having his friend go. But Van promised there should be letters—lots +of them—and post-cards, too, all along the route; the parting would +not be for long anyway. +</p> + +<p> +These were some of the thoughts that surged through Van's mind as he +and Bob settled themselves into their places on the train and began +the attempt to fathom the reams of directions Mr. Blake had sent +them; pages and pages there were of what to do and what not to do on +the long trip, the letter closing with the single sentence: +</p> + +<p> +"I am trusting you to make this journey alone because I believe your +chum, Bob Carlton, has a level head." +</p> + +<p> +"If your own head is not level, Bobbie, it is at least an honor to +be associated with a head that is," remarked Van humorously. "I +guess that is about all the recommendation you need from Dad, old +boy. I wonder how he happened to take such a fancy to you without +ever having met you." +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder," echoed Bob quietly. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XI +</h3> + +<h3> +THE BOYS MAKE A NEW ACQUAINTANCE +</h3> + +<p> +To Bob every mile of the western journey was a step into Wonderland; +novel sights, novel ideas confronted him on every hand and viewed +through the medium of his enthusiasm things that had become +threadbare to Van became, as if by magic, suddenly new. The +greatness of the country was a marvel of which Bob had never before +had any adequate conception. Then there were the cities, alive with +varying industries, and teeming with their strangely mixed American +population. Above all was the amazing natural beauty of scenery +hitherto undreamed of. Hour after hour Bob sat spellbound at the +window of the observation-car, never tiring of watching the shifting +landscape as it whirled past. His interest and intelligence caught +the notice of a gentleman who occupied the section opposite the +boys, and soon the three formed one of those pleasant acquaintances +so frequently made in traveling. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Powers (for that was the stranger's name) was on his way back to +his farm in Utah, and very eager was he to reach home. +</p> + +<p> +"So many things on the place need my attention that the journey you +are delighting in seems very long to me," he remarked to Bob one +morning as they came from the dining-car. +</p> + +<p> +"Is your farm a large one, Mr. Powers?" questioned Bob. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Powers smiled. +</p> + +<p> +"It is larger than you would want to build a fence around," he +returned humorously. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you have all sorts of cows and pigs and horses on it, and +raise every kind of fruit and vegetable that ever was invented," put +in Van mischievously. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Powers shook his head and looked not a little amused. +</p> + +<p> +"No. We have only enough stock for our own use—nothing fancy. I do +not go in for show farming. I raise only one thing on my land, and +I'm going to see if you are clever enough to guess what it is." +</p> + +<p> +"Alfalfa!" cried Bob instantly. +</p> + +<p> +"No. How did you happen to think of that?" +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, I've read that lots of western farmers raised it." +</p> + +<p> +"True enough. It wasn't a bad guess, but it was not the right one," +said the stranger. "Now suppose we hear from your chum." +</p> + +<p> +"Corn." +</p> + +<p> +"Still wrong; but you are getting warmer." +</p> + +<p> +"Wheat." +</p> + +<p> +"Wheat is not as good a random shot as corn." +</p> + +<p> +"It must be a vegetable," declared Bob thoughtfully. "Let me see. +Not potatoes?" +</p> + +<p> +"No." +</p> + +<p> +"Of course it couldn't be peas, or beans, or squash, because you +said once you had hundreds of acres, and you would never raise any +of those things in such large quantities," argued Van. "Spinach, +tomatoes—" +</p> + +<p> +"I have it!" cried Bob. "You should have guessed it the first thing, +Van." +</p> + +<p> +"Why?" +</p> + +<p> +"Can't you think? With your father right in the business you ought +to." +</p> + +<p> +"Beets," exclaimed Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Beets it is!" agreed Mr. Powers. "So your father is interested in +beets too, is he? You don't chance to be the son of Mr. Asa Blake, +do you?" +</p> + +<p> +"Yes, sir." +</p> + +<p> +"That is a coincidence," observed Mr. Powers much interested. "I +sell all my crops to him. I expect then, young man, you know all +there is to be known about growing beets." +</p> + +<p> +"On the contrary, I don't know a thing," Van confessed laughing. +"Dad has never talked to me much about his business. He is too busy +to talk to anybody," he added a little dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +"It is usually the doctor's children who never get any medicine," +chuckled Mr. Powers. "Now, I could do better than that for you. I +could tell you considerable about beets if you urged me to." +</p> + +<p> +"I wish you would," answered the boys promptly. +</p> + +<p> +"There, you see, you urge me at once—you insist upon hearing! What +can I do? There is no escape for me but to comply with your request. +Of course I was not expecting to be called upon to speak to-day and +therefore I must crave the indulgence of the audience if I am but +poorly prepared," began Mr. Powers with mock gravity. +</p> + +<p> +"In the first place you must remember that while sugar-cane can only +be cultivated in a hot, moist climate, beets grow best in the +temperate zone. In the United States there is a belt of beet-sugar +land two hundred miles wide that runs irregularly across the country +from southern New England to the Pacific coast. Sugar-beets can, of +course, be grown elsewhere, but it is in this particular region that +they thrive best. If even a small proportion of this area were to be +planted with beets we could get enough sugar from them to enable us +to ship it to foreign markets instead of yearly importing a large +amount of it. The trouble is that we Americans are so rich in land +that we waste it and fail to get from it a tenth part of what we +might. If you doubt that travel in Europe and see what is done with +land on the other side; or, better yet, watch what some Italian in +this country will get from a bit of land no bigger than your pocket +handkerchief." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Powers stopped a minute and looked out of the window. +</p> + +<p> +"The great objection our people make to growing beets is that they +injure the soil so that nothing else planted afterward will +flourish. Now to an extent this is true. Beets do run out the soil +if they are raised year after year on the same land. If our farmers +were not so slow to get a new idea they would raise beets in +rotation as is done in Europe." +</p> + +<p> +"What do you mean by rotation?" demanded Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"A rotating crop is one that produces a sequence of different kinds +of harvests," explained Mr. Powers. "By that I mean harvests of +entirely varying nature. Abroad they have learned that a hoed crop, +when planted annually, destroys the productivity of the earth; +therefore foreigners plant beets one year in three or five and +cereals, turnips, or something else in between times. Formerly they +used to let the land lie fallow a year to rest it, but now they have +worked out a scheme by which they get a crop every year. It was +Napoleon, that Frenchman of wonderful brain, who first discovered +the value of beets for making sugar, and thought out the plan for +raising them in rotation with other varieties of crops. He commanded +that ninety thousand acres of beets be planted in different parts of +France, and he established in connection with this decree a great +fund of money from which bonuses were to be paid to persons who +built factories to manufacture beet-sugar. He went even further, +furnishing free instruction to all who wished to learn the industry. +In consequence at the end of a couple of years there were in France +over three hundred small sugar factories; little by little this +number has increased until now the sugar product of the French +nation is enormous." +</p> + +<p> +Fascinated by the story Bob and Van listened attentively. +</p> + +<p> +"Didn't other countries steal the idea of the rotating crop?" +inquired Van. +</p> + +<p> +"Not at first. Germany tried to make her farmers believe in the new +notion, but failed," answered Mr. Powers. "Later, however, as an +inducement, the German government helped beet-sugar factories pay +such good prices for beets that the farmers became anxious to raise +them; at the same time a high duty was placed on imported sugar, and +the result was that the German people were forced to manufacture +their own. At the present time about one-half of the sugar used by +all the world is made in foreign factories. I myself run my beet +farm on the rotation principle, and find that the hoed root crops +seem to stimulate the others; but I can't convince my neighbors of +it." +</p> + +<p> +"Does beet-sugar taste any different from cane?" inquired Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Not a whit; you couldn't tell the difference," was Mr. Powers' +answer. +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose sugar-beets are just like those in our gardens," ventured +Van. +</p> + +<p> +"No, they're not; they are, however, not unlike them. They differ in +having more juice and in usually being white," replied Mr. Powers. +"The ground has first to be plowed and harrowed, and is afterward +laid off in eighteen-inch rows because beets, you know, are planted +from seed. When the crop comes up trouble begins, for it has to be +thinned until each plant has a good area in which to grow; the beets +must also be carefully weeded and the soil round them loosened if +they are to thrive." +</p> + +<p> +"How long is it before they are ready for sugar making?" inquired +Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"Practically five months; it depends somewhat on the season. When +they are ripe they are dug up, the tops are removed, and they are +floated down small canals where washing machines with revolving +brushes remove from them every atom of dirt." +</p> + +<p> +"And then?" +</p> + +<p> +"If they are to be made directly into syrup and do not have to be +shipped in bulk they go into slicers which cut them into V-shaped +pieces about the length and thickness of a slate pencil, these +pieces being called cossettes. The sliced beet-root is next put into +warm water tanks in order that the sugar contained in it may be +drawn out. Built in a circle, these tanks are connected, and as the +beets move from one vat to another more and more sugar is taken from +them until they reach the last vat when the beet pulp is of no +further use except to be used as fodder for live stock. The juice +remains in the tanks, and in color it is—" +</p> + +<p> +"Red!" cried Van, thoughtlessly interrupting. +</p> + +<p> +"No, son, not red. It is black as ink." +</p> + +<p> +"Black!" exclaimed the boys in a chorus. +</p> + +<p> +"Black as your shoe." +</p> + +<p> +"But—but I don't see how they—" Van stopped, bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +"They bleach it by injecting fumes of sulphur gas into the tanks; +lime is also used to—" +</p> + +<p> +"To clear it after the dirt has come to the top," put in the boys in +a breath. +</p> + +<p> +"Exactly so," laughed Mr. Powers. "I observe you are now at the home +plate." +</p> + +<p class="t3"> +[Illustration: "THESE TANKS ARE CONNECTED"] +</p> + +<p> +"We saw it done at the sugar-cane refinery," explained Bob. +</p> + +<p> +"I see," nodded Mr. Powers. "Well, the principle of making beet-sugar +is the same as cane-sugar. By the use of chemical solutions the juice +is cleared until it is perfectly white." +</p> + +<p> +Bob nudged Van with his elbow and the lads smiled understandingly. +There was no danger of their forgetting Mr. Hennessey and his secret +chemical formula. +</p> + +<p> +"The remainder of the process is also similar to that used in +refining cane-sugar. The syrup passes from tank to tank, constantly +thickening, and the molasses is extracted in the same fashion by +being thrown off in the centrifugal machines when the sugar +crystallizes. Molasses is often boiled two and three times to make +second and third grade molasses for the trade, and you must remember +in this connection that the names <i>New Orleans</i> and <i>Porto +Rico</i> do not necessarily indicate where the product was made, but +rather its quality, these varieties being of the finest grade." +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Powers rose and drew out a cigar. +</p> + +<p> +"I think I'm quite a lecturer, don't you?" he said. "I imagine your +father, Van, could have told you this story much better than I have +if you could have captured him for two hours on a train when he had +nothing else to do. As it is I have had to fill his place, and I +want you to inform him with my compliments that I am surprised to +discover how completely he has neglected his son's education." +</p> + +<p> +With a mischievous twinkle in his eye Mr. Powers passed into the +smoking-car. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> +<h3> +CHAPTER XII +</h3> + +<h3> +THE DAWN OF A NEW YEAR +</h3> + +<p> +On their arrival at Denver Van and Bob were met by Mr. Blake, and a +delay in the train admitted of a passing greeting between Mr. Powers +and Van's father; afterward the heavy express that had safely +brought the travelers to their journey's end thundered on its way +and the boys were left on the platform. Mr. Blake regarded each of +them keenly for a moment before speaking; then he extended his hand +to Bob, saying: +</p> + +<p> +"The highest compliment I can pay you, young man, is to tell you you +are like your father. Mrs. Blake and I are very grateful to you for +what you've done for our son." +</p> + +<p> +"I'm afraid—" protested Bob. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Blake cut him short. +</p> + +<p> +"There, there, we won't discuss it," said he. "I simply wish you to +know that both of us have appreciated your friendship for Van. He is +a scatter-brained young dog, but he is all we have, and we believe +in time he is going to make good. Eh, son?" Despite the words he +smiled down at the lad kindly. +</p> + +<p> +"I hope so, Father." +</p> + +<p> +"With a wise friend at your elbow it will be your own fault if you +do not," his father declared. +</p> + +<p> +Summoning a porter to carry the luggage the trio followed him to the +train which was to take them to the small town outside of Denver, +where the Blakes resided. +</p> + +<p> +Here they found Van's mother—very beautiful and very young, it +seemed to Bob; a woman of soft voice and pretty southern manner who +seemed always to appear in a different gown and many floating scarfs +and ribbons. Bob felt at a glance that she would not be the sort of +person to pack boxes of goodies and send to her boy; she would +always be too busy to do that. That she was, nevertheless, genuinely +fond of Van there could be not the smallest doubt, and she welcomed +both boys to the great stone house with true Virginian hospitality. +</p> + +<p> +To describe that western sojourn would be a book in itself. +</p> + +<p> +Bob wrote home to his parents volumes about his good times, and +still left half the wonders of his Colorado visit untold. There was +the trip up Pike's Peak; a two days' jaunt to a gold mine; a +horseback ride to a large beet farm in an adjoining town; three +weeks of real mountain camping, the joy of which was enhanced by the +capture of a good sized bear. In addition to all this there were +several fishing trips, and toward the close of the holiday a tour to +the Grand Canyon. +</p> + +<p> +It was a never-to-be-forgotten vacation crowded with experiences +novel and delightful. +</p> + +<p> +"I wonder, Van, how you can ever be content to leave all this behind +and come East to school," remarked Bob to his chum when toward the +last of September they once more boarded the train and turned their +faces toward Colversham. +</p> + +<p> +"Oh, you see, Dad was born in the East, and he wanted me to have an +eastern education," explained Van. "He laughs at himself for the +idea though, and says it is only a sentimental notion, as he is +convinced a western school would do exactly as well. He has lived +out here twenty years now, and yet he still has a tender spot in his +heart for New England. It is in his blood, he declares, and he can't +get it out. Notwithstanding his love for the East, however, Mother +and I say that wild horses couldn't drag him back there to live." +</p> + +<p> +"I suppose you wouldn't want to come East, either," Bob said. +</p> + +<p> +"Not on your life! Give me lots of hustle and plenty of room!" +replied Van emphatically. "But I like the East and the eastern +people, and I'll be almighty tickled to get back to Colversham and +the fellows—to say nothing of Tim McGrew." +</p> + +<p> +"You'll take up football again this fall, of course," said Bob. +"We'll both duff right in with the practice squad as soon as the +boys get out; it seems to me there is no earthly reason why each of +us shouldn't land somewhere on the eleven this year." +</p> + +<p> +Weeks afterward Bob thought with a grim smile of the remark. +</p> + +<p> +How different that fall term proved to be from anything he had +expected! +</p> + +<p> +Colversham was reached without disaster and back into the chaos of +trunks, suit-cases, and swarming arrivals came the western +travelers. From morning until night a stream of boys crossed and +recrossed the campus and the air was merry with such characteristic +greetings as: +</p> + +<p> +"Ah, there, Blakie! How is the old scout?" +</p> + +<p> +"Snappy work, Bob Carlton! I say, you look pretty kippie. Where did +you swipe the yellow shoes?" +</p> + +<p> +"Just wearing them temporarily until I can step into yours as stroke +of the crew!" called back Bob good-naturedly. +</p> + +<p> +A shout went up from the boys who had heard the sally. +</p> + +<p> +For nearly a week the school grounds were a-hum with voices. Then +things began to settle down into the regular yearly routine. In +spite of the stiff program ahead Van managed to spend some part of +each day, if only a few moments of it, with Tim McGrew. How much +there was to tell! Three months had worked marvels in the little +fellow and it was a pleasure to see how his strength was returning. +</p> + +<p> +"The doctor thinks there's a chance I may walk yet, Mr. Blake!" +exclaimed the child. "He doesn't promise it, mind; he just says +maybe things won't turn out as bad as we thought at first. I heard +him tell Ma that perhaps later if I was to be operated on maybe I'd +pull through and surprise everybody. Think of it! Think what it +means to know there is even a chance. Wouldn't it be wonderful if I +should walk again some time?" +</p> + +<p> +Catching the glow in the wistful face Van's own beamed. +</p> + +<p> +"You'll have us all fooled yet, Tim," he cried, "and be prancing +round here like a young Kentucky colt—see if you don't." +</p> + +<p> +The lads chuckled together. +</p> + +<p> +Van was bubbling over with high spirits when he left Tim that +afternoon and there was nothing to herald the approach of the +calamity that fell like a thunderbolt upon him. It was late at night +when the illness developed that so alarmed Bob Carlton that it sent +him rushing to the telephone to call up the head master. From that +moment on things moved with appalling rapidity. Van was carried from +the dormitory to the school hospital and at the doctor's advice Mr. +Carlton was summoned from New York by telephone. Within an +incredibly few hours both he and his wife arrived by motor, and +their first act was to wire Van's father. +</p> + +<p> +The boy was very ill, so ill that in an operation lay the one +slender chance of saving his life. The case could brook no delay. +There was not sufficient time to consult Van's father, or learn from +him his preferences as to what should be done. To Mr. Carlton fell +the entire responsibility of taking command of the perilous +situation. He it was who secured the famous surgeon from New York; +who sent for nurses and doctors; who made the decision that meant +life or death to the boy who lay suffering on the cot in that silent +room. +</p> + +<p> +How leaden were the hours while the lad's existence trembled in the +balance! +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carlton paced the floor of the tiny office, his hands clinched +behind him and his lips tightly set. If Van did not survive his +would be the word that had sent him to his end. Should the worst +befall how should he ever greet that desperate father who was even +now hurrying eastward with all the speed that money could purchase? +What should he say? What could he say, Mr. Carlton asked himself. To +lose his own child would be a grief overwhelming enough; but to have +given the order that hurried another man's only boy into eternity—that +would be a tragedy that nothing could ever make right. +</p> + +<p> +"I have done the best I knew," muttered Mr. Carlton over and over to +himself. "I have done toward his son precisely as I would have done +toward my own. Had I it all to decide over again I could do nothing +different." +</p> + +<p> +Yet try as he would to comfort himself the hours before he could +have tidings from the operating room dragged with torturing +slowness. Bob, crouched in a chair in the corner of the room, dared +not speak to his father. Never had he seen him so unnerved. There +was no need to question the seriousness of the moment; it brooded in +the tenseness of the atmosphere, in the speed with which his heart +beat, in the drawn face of the man who never ceased his measured +tread up and down the narrow room. +</p> + +<p> +And when the strain of the operation was actually over there was no +lessening of anxiety, because for days following the battle for life +had still to be waged. Would human strength hold through the combat? +That was the question that filled the weary hours of the day and the +sleepless watches of the night. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Carlton, ordinarily so bound up in business affairs that he +never could leave town, now gave not a thought to them. Instead he +took up his abode in the dormitory with Bob that he might be close +at hand, and here he eagerly checked off the successive hours that +brought nearer that man who was racing against Fate across the vast +breadth of the country. +</p> + +<p> +How would they meet, these two who had been so long divided by a +gulf of years and bitterness? Would his former friend feel that the +decisions he had made were wise, or would he heap reproaches upon +him for putting in jeopardy a life over which he had no jurisdiction? +With dread Mr. Carlton strove to put the thought of the coming +interview out of his mind. +</p> + +<p> +"I have done as well as I knew," he reiterated. "Would that it had +been my own boy instead of his!" +</p> + +<p> +Over and over he planned to himself what he would say at that +crucial meeting. He would explain as nearly as he could the precise +conditions that he felt justified him in assuming the immense +financial responsibilities he had heaped up for his former friend. +If the lad lived it would be worth it all; but if he did not it +would all have gone for naught. Would not any father rather have had +his child alive, invalid though he was, than to have lost him +altogether? +</p> + +<p> +The meeting when it came was quite different from anything Mr. +Carlton had outlined. It was after midnight when the special arrived +at the dim little station, and even before the train came to a stop +its solitary passenger sprang impatiently to the platform. +</p> + +<p> +There was no need for James Carlton to make certain who it was; +every line of the form was familiar. He strode to the traveler's +side. +</p> + +<p> +The hands of the two men shot out and met in a firm clasp. +</p> + +<p> +"The boy?" +</p> + +<p> +"He is alive, Asa." +</p> + +<p> +"God bless you, Jim!" +</p> + +<p> +Van Blake faced the great crisis, fought his way courageously +through it, and won. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly he retraced his steps up the path to health again, and as +soon as he was able to be moved he and his father and mother +together with the Carltons went to Allenville and opened the old +farmhouse for Christmas. +</p> + +<p> +What a Christmas it was! +</p> + +<p> +What a day of rejoicing and thanksgiving among young and old! +</p> + +<p> +Tim McGrew and all his family were brought down for a holiday, and +there was a royal tree decked with candles and loaded with gifts; +there was a pudding which could nowhere have been matched; a +southern plum-pudding made by Van's mother; there were carols sung +as only those to whom they meant much could sing them; and there was +joy and peace in every heart. +</p> + +<p> +"Next summer it must be Colorado for you all, Jim," cried Asa Blake +as he stood with his hand on the shoulder of his old partner. "We'll +make this New Year the happiest of our lives. Tim shall go too; and +if money can buy surgical skill he shall make the journey hither on +his own two feet. Here's to the new year, Jim!" +</p> + +<p> +"The new year, Asa, and may God bless us every one!" echoed Mr. +Carlton, softly. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Story of Sugar, by Sara Ware Bassett + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF SUGAR *** + +***** This file should be named 7803-h.htm or 7803-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/0/7803/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Anne Folland, Ted Garvin +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. 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