CHAPTER XICLEARING SKIES
Elmer continued to hold the other’s quivering hand firmly in his clasp.
“Try to control your feelings as much as you can, Amos, old boy,” he went on saying in his comforting fashion. “And don’t tell me anything that you may regret. You can depend on it, though, that I’ll respect your confidence, and not even mention it to Perk and Wee Willie, without your permission.”
“Oh! but I want them to know all about it too!” said Amos, looking up, and winking his eyes violently, “because it’s only right. I hope, ever so much, that you won’t despise me for s-s-sailing under f-f-false colors, that’s all.”
“It’s nothing you have done, I’m sure of that, Amos,” said the staunch chum, resolutely, “and that’s all we count. You’re not to be held responsible for the actions of some one else. Now, go on and tell me what you think best.”
He stepped over the log and sat down, drawing Amos alongside. Throwing an arm about the other’s shoulder, Elmer waited to hear the sad story, which in truth he could already more than half guess.
“Is it all about some trouble your father got himself into, Amos?” he asked, seeing that the other hardly knew just how to begin.
“Yes, yes, that’s it!” sighed Amos. “My father was never known to do mean things, but he certainly did slip up once, and everything came from that terrible mistake. Just like a good many others do who are tempted, he took money that didn’t belong to him, expecting to put it back when a certain deal was carried through; but something happened that turned the tide the wrong way, and he found himself—a defaulter!”
“Yes,” said Elmer, soothingly, “it is a sad thing for you to remember; since you must have cared a great deal for your father, judging from what you say, and how you still suffer.”
“I loved him, we all did, for up to that time he had always been good to us,” Amos confessed. “It was in hopes of bettering the condition of his family that tempted him to do that terrible thing, too, mother has said since, a thousand times.”
“He went away, you said, didn’t you?” continued Elmer, when the other paused as if lost in contemplation of the distant past.
“Yes, to avoid being arrested, and bringing shame on his family,” came the answer. “I shall never forget that awful day as long as I live, though I was pretty young then, hardly ten. It came like a hurricane out of a clear sky, father showing up, and looking almost crazy, telling mother all about it, and that he must go away to try to redeem himself.
“He left her all the money he had, and told her to take us children to an old aunt of hers, who had means. Father vowed that he would make no attempt to communicate with her, or ever come back, unless he could square himself with the firm whose confidence he had abused.
“From that terrible day to this we have never once heard from him. Mother fully believes he has long been dead. She often talks of him to me as we sit in the gloaming, and her thoughts go back to the happy days of her young married life. I have his gold watch, left for me, but which, of course, I shall not carry until I am grown up and in business.
“The old aunt died shortly after we came to live with her, and left her property to my mother, whom she dearly loved. It was enough to keep us fairly comfortable, though we have to count the dollars; and I may yet have to leave school and go to work, so as to help out.
“There, now you know everything, Elmer; do you think you still care to be chummy with the son of——”
“Stop right there, Amos!” commanded Elmer, gruffly, for he was in reality almost choking with emotion himself in sympathy with the poor chap at his side, who wanted so to cling to him, and yet determinedly pushed himself away, as if feeling not worthy to associate with fellows upon whose heads no such dark shadow rested. “If anything, you’re more my chum than ever. A pretty pal I’d be to hold back when you’re in need of sympathy. And both Perk and Wee Willie will say the same thing, you can bank on it.”
Amos drew a long lingering breath as of intense relief. He also seemed on the point of breaking down again, seeing which Elmer hastened to add:
“Now brace up, old fellow, and begin to believe things may not bequiteso black as they seem. One thing you can depend on, that not a living soul in all Chester will ever know about your trouble through any of us. We’ll keep your secret, and not even drop a hint to our folks at home. You’re certain about that knife once being your father’s, are you Amos?”
“Oh! absolutely!” exclaimed the other; “I’d know it anywhere, for it used to be a great wonder to me. Besides, I saw his initials scratched on the handle, just as in the old days. Father had owned that knife a long time, and used to think a heap of it.”
Elmer remembering how the unknown tramp had hung around all this time just to recover the knife, could not help feeling that the present possessor must also have considerable affection for the thing, whoever he might turn out to be.
“But during seven years it could easily have fallen into other hands, you understand,” continued Elmer. “It might have been lost, or stolen, in fact, passed through a variety of adventures by now.”
“I think you mean to say that if my father died some one with him at the time would have taken possession of the knife,” remarked Amos, again drawing a long breath; “which is perfectly true. I am not saying that I believe the tramp to be my poor unfortunate dad; but it was the sight of the knife turning up in this queer way after all these years that unnerved me so.”
“What sort of a man was your father, Amos—I mean did he happen to be tall, or short; and was he athletic or otherwise?” continued Elmer, evidently with some object in view; at least the other suspected as much, for he turned to look inquiringly into his face before answering.
“Why,” Amos went on presently, “you see, he never could play football or baseball when a boy because he had one leg a bit shorter than the other. This didn’t interfere with his walking at all; because I’ve tramped many miles alongside him, for we were always—quite—chummy.”
“Was it his left leg that was the shorter?” pursued Elmer.
“That isn’t just a guess, is it?” demanded the other; “you seem to know, Elmer! Tell me what it means, oh! please do!”
Elmer looked at him rather uncertainly. Then, as if making up his mind he had no business to hold back anything from a chum, he went on to explain.
“You know I pride myself somewhat on my woodcraft knowledge, Amos; and it was easy for me to discover that the unknown—er, party who has been hanging about our camp here, hoping to recover that knife, had a short left leg; for his right foot always showed much more plainly than the other.”
Amos groaned.
“Then it is he!” he muttered. “Poor dad, and poor mother! Oh! what wouldn’t I give, if I had never been tempted to come up here with you to Log Cabin Bend. Then perhaps I’d still be contented in believing that he had long ago ceased to suffer in body and mind.”
“Will you tell your mother when you go back home, Amos?”
“Had I better, do you think?” he asked, almost desperately.
“You must settle that for yourself, Amos. Think it over before you decide one way or the other. Your first consideration should be the happiness of the mother you love so much. Will it do any good to share your secret with her; or must it reopen old wounds that time has partly healed?”
“That’s it!” muttered Amos, shaking his head sadly. “I know how she will begin to lie awake nights again like she did before, and look so sorrowful, always watching down the road as if half hoping to see him come limping along, waving his hand to us, as he did every night when returning from the office. Yes, I mustn’t be rash: I would cut my hand off sooner than do a thing to make my mother cry as she used to years ago.”
Elmer began to see that possibly it might be up to him to try to get in touch with the tramp, and learn just who and what he was. He could understand what a cruel shock it must be to Amos even to suspect that his father could reach the low level of a common wanderer on the face of the earth, a hobo!
“You meant it when you said you wanted Perk and Wee Willie to know about this matter, did you, Amos?” he asked presently.
“Yes, I insist on it,” said the other, hastily. “I’m tired of sailing under false colors. If my chums all know my sad story it must be up to them to decide whether they want to keep up their contact with me, or drop me. But you must tell them, Elmer; I couldn’t have the heart to go over it all again.”
“I promise you I will, now you’ve given me permission, Amos; and make your mind easy. I know both of our pards too well to doubt what they’ll surely do. They may not be able to say much, but their actions will speak louder than words.”
“You’re all the finest chums any one could ever have, and it’d nearly break my heart if you turned back on me. Do you know, I’ve had the queerest things flit through my mind while thinking it all over.”
“Such as what, Amos?”
“For one thing I would picture my father crouching in the bushes off yonder and staring hard at us while we sat around the campfire last night, yet not daring to join the circle. I even wondered, Elmer, whether he could recognize me, for I’ve changed a lot in these seven years, of course; and how he must have felt at not being able to make himself known, just because he thinks that old charge still hangs over his head.”
“But doesn’t it?” demanded Elmer, suddenly thrilled somehow.
“Why, of course not,” said Amos, simply. “When mother came into the property of her old aunt, one of the first things she did was to have an interview with the head of the firm my father used to be with. She found out the amount of his defalcation, and paid it. That was what cut down our allowance so, and made us scrimp sometimes; but my mother always gloried in clearing his name. Oh, if he is only alive, and could learn that, what might not happen?”
“Courage, Amos!” said Elmer, “you’ve boosted the game a heap in telling me that.”