CHAPTER XVIII.UPLIFTED HEARTS.
The fellow seemed to whirl end over end and strike out in the middle of the street, where he lay in a stunned condition, not even appearing to breathe.
Quick as a flash, Frank whirled and faced the others, knowing the fellow’s companions would be sure to attempt to avenge him.
“Come on, you loafers!” he cried.
“He struck Ned!” shouted one. “Give it to him!”
They all jumped for Frank, but in doing so they bothered each other more or less.
Merry met them halfway, his arms working like piston rods, his hard fists cracking on their heads.
It was an astonishing spectacle, for he went into them like a tornado, knocking them right and left.
To Frank it seemed that never before had he felt so strong and able. He was perfectly confident that he could clean out the entire crowd of half-intoxicated young bloods, and he was doing a very satisfactory job when somebody cried:
“Police!”
Instantly there was a scattering. Somebody had aided to his feet the fellow Frank struck first, and in a few seconds every one of the gang vanished.
The policeman came up, followed closely by another, and demanded to know what it was all about.
The witnesses of this remarkable encounter quickly explained, while Frank was reassuring the frightened boy and girl.
The officer came and looked Merry over.
“That was Bloodgood’s crowd,” said one of them.
“And this chap fought the whole of them,” exclaimed the other.
“He didn’t know what he was up against.”
“It didn’t seem to make any difference, if what the crowd says is true. He was getting the best of it.”
“All the same, I reckon it’s a good thing for him that we came along.”
“Young man, you got off easy. We’ll not arrest you, for the people who saw it say you were in the right.”
“I think I was, sir,” said Frank, quietly.
“Oh, Mr. Policeman!” exclaimed the lame boy, “those fellows insulted my sister and threw me down. Nobody else dared interfere with them, but this gentleman fought them all. He knocked down the one who insulted Nellie.”
“If we’d got along in time, we’d gathered some of them in. You want to look out for that gang, young fellow,” addressing Frank. “They are a hard crowd, and they’ll try to get even with you.”
Then the officers dispersed the crowd that had gathered, and moved along themselves.
“Oh, how can we thank you, sir?” cried the boy, getting hold of Frank’s hand. “You were so good—and so brave!”
The girl reached out in a strange, uncertain way, saying:
“I must thank him, Jack! Where is his hand?”
“She’s blind,” explained the boy. “She’s my sister, Nell, and we’re all alone in the world.”
“Blind?” gasped Frank, with a shock of horror. “Why, her eyes look all right.”
“Yes; but a doctor said once that the optic nerve was injured by a fall she received.”
“Blind?” whispered Frank, as he held both her hands and looked down into her blue eyes. “My poor, little girl.”
Her hands trembled in his, and a thrill of sympathy seemed to pass between them.
“Oh,” she said, gently, “I know you are good—so good! And I want to thank you for defending me from that—that person.”
“Don’t speak of that,” murmured Frank. “It was a great satisfaction. You are looking straight at me now. Can’t you see me at all?”
“No, sir.”
“It is strange. Your eyes look all right save for an uncertain expression in them. Some time your sight will be restored. I feel sure of that.”
A look of happiness came to her sweet face, and she almost panted as she answered:
“I am so glad to hear you say so! I don’t know why, but it seems that you must be right. It is so strange, for I feel as if I had known you always. What is your name?”
“Frank Merriwell.”
“My name is Nellie Norton. I wish I could see you, Mr. Merriwell.”
“We are trying to get money enough together to have her eyes treated by a great oculist,” explained the boy; “but times are hard, and people do not have much money to spare.”
“Well, we’ll see what can be done right here,” said Frank, observing that a number of the original crowd had returned and were standing about.
Then he turned to them and said:
“Gentlemen, this girl is blind. She was not born that way, but sustained an injury by a fall that affected the optical nerve. She has been told that her sight might be restored by an operation, and, with her brother, she is trying to get together enough money to pay a specialist to do the work. This she and her brother have just told me, for I never saw either of them before this evening. Now, I am poor, and can afford no luxuries, but I can afford to give a dollar to help this girl recover her sight. I am going to put a dollar in my hat, and then I will passit round. I hope others will give as much as they can afford.”
He took off his hat and dropped a silver dollar into it. Then, talking in his most pleasant and persuasive manner, he went round with the hat.
Every person present gave something. One old Irishwoman threw in a dime, saying:
“Thot’s arl Oi have, an’ Oi wish it wur a hoondred dollars, so Oi do! Me ould marn sint me out fer a can av beer, but it’s warther he’ll have ter drink to-noight, an’ it’s jist as much good it’ll be afther doin’ av him. God bliss th’ dear girrul’s swate hearrut! an’ it’s bloind she is? An’ she can’t see th’ skoy an’ th’ birruds an’ th’ flowers? An’ it’s me own litthle b’y as is dead now pwhat wur borrun thot way, an’ he uster be afther axin’ me pwhat things looked loike, an’ now he’s gone foriver where he can see. It’s ounly tin cints, a dhrop in th’ bucket, but it will do th’ dear, swate girrul more good thot way than it’ll do me ould marn roonin’ down his throat, bad cess to th’ lazy dog!”
Then she turned and hobbled away in a hurry.
Her example led many of the others to give with the greatest liberality, and when the money was counted and passed over to little Nell, Frank announced that six dollars and eighteen cents had been received.
The blind girl held out her hands to the crowd, laughing even as the tears streamed down her face, and brokenly said:
“Oh! I thank you all so much—so much! You have been so kind to me! It will be such a help!”
“And I thank you, too!” said the boy, his voice trembling. “Why, it’s a small fortune! Sometimes we have worked a whole week and not received so much; but I believe luck has turned now, and Nellie will be able to see very soon.”
Frank was deeply touched. Then he regretted the loss of his fortune for the first time, as it made it impossible for him to take charge of the blind girl and see that she had the best medical attention, which he would have done in other days.
“Can’t we do something?” asked the boy, eagerly. “We will sing something more for you.”
He hastily adjusted the guitar, and strummed the strings a moment.
“What shall we sing, Nellie?” he asked.
“Oh, something lively—some happy song,” she answered, still laughing through her tears.
So they sang one of the late popular songs, but the voices of both were uncertain, and it was pathetic to witness the affection and happiness in the boy’s eyes when he looked at his sister.
In the very middle of the song the girl broke down completely and stopped.
“Oh!” she exclaimed; “I can’t sing! Somehow my heart is so full that the words will not come out. But I want to thank you again and again! I want to thank Mr. Merriwell. Where is he?”
But Frank Merriwell was gone. Stirred to the very depths of his soul, he had hurried away while they weresinging; and he walked along the city’s streets, unmindful of his surroundings, uplifted, exalted, strengthened for the battle of life.