"I see," remarked Hugh; "and it was clever of Nick. You agreed, of course, sir, seeing that he was here?"
"It made no particular difference to me," added the blacksmith, "and I was glad to know the lad cared enough about the work to want to make the change. So I told him to be along as usual about seven, as I had a raft of work on hand that would keep us until well on after eleven. As a fact, it was fifteen minutes after that hour when Nick started for home."
"You remember that positively then, sir,—the hour, I mean?" askedHugh.
"Oh! I could swear to it," came the reply. "In the first place I heard the town clock strike eleven, and counted the strokes myself, remarking that we must shut up shop soon as it was getting close to Sunday morning. Then as he was quitting Nick asked me again just what time it was, and I consulted my reliable watch. I can see now that possibly Nick had an object in impressing the time on my mind, so I could say positively he was there at eleven, and after. I don't like the idea of his having known about the intended robbery, and keeping silent, but suppose he considered himself in honor bound to his former chums."
So their interview with Deacon Winslow proved a very enjoyable one after all. Hugh felt he should like to know the big amiable blacksmith better, for he had been drawn to him very much indeed.
"And," he told Thad, as they trudged back along the road to town, "the way things seem to be working, I'm more than ever encouraged to keep on with my experiment."
"Do you know," mused Thad, as they continued on their way to town, "the more I see of that blacksmith the better I like him. In my opinion, he's a grand old man."
"I was just going to say that myself," Hugh told him. "He makes me think of the priest in the story. And they say he loves boys—all boys."
"You can't make him believe there's a boy living but who hassomethingworth while in him," Thad advanced. "Sometimes it's hid under a whole lot of trash, as Deacon Winslow calls it, and you've got to search a heap before you strike gold; but if you only persist you'll be rewarded."
"His actions with regard to Nick prove that he practices what he preaches, too," said Hugh.
"Well, the old man went through a bitter experience many years ago," Thad went on to say; "and he learned his lesson for life, he often says."
"Why, how's that, Thad? I've heard a great many things about different people since we came to Scranton; but I don't remember listening to what happened to the old deacon long ago."
"Is that a fact, Hugh? Well, I'll have to tell you about it, then. Once upon a time they had a boy, an only child; and, as happens in some families where the parents are the finest kind of Christian people, young Joel had a bad streak in his make-up. Oh! they say he gave his father no end of trouble from time to time. And it wound up in a row, with the boy doing something disgraceful, and running away from home, nearly breaking his mother's heart."
"Didn't he ever come bad again?" asked the interested listener.
Thad shook his head in the negative.
"They never looked on his face again, either living or dead," he said. "Worse than that, they never even heard from him. It was as if Joel had dropped out of sight that night when he left a line to his mother saying he was going west to where they raised men, not sissies. And so the years rolled around, and, they say, the old lady even now sits looking into the sunset skies, dreaming that her Joel, just as she remembered him, had sent word he was coming back to visit them in their old age, and to ask forgiveness for his wrong-doing."
Hugh was greatly moved by the sad tale, which, however, he knew could be easily matched in every town of any size in the country; for it is of common occurrence, with a multitude of sore hearts turning toward that Great West.
"That must have been how long ago, Thad?" he asked presently.
"Let me see, I should think all of forty years; perhaps forty-five would be closer to the mark, Hugh."
"How sad," mused the other lad, with a shake of his head; "and to think of that poor old lady, an invalid, you said, and confined to a wheelchair, watching the sinking sun faithfully each evening as it sets, still yearning for her boy to come back. It is a dream that has become a part of her very existence. Why, even if young Joel had lived he would now be over sixty years of age, but she never thinks of him that way. The deacon, they say, is eighty-five, though you'd never believe it to see his brawny muscles and healthy complexion."
"You see," continued Thad, anxious that his chum should know everything connected with the subject, now he was upon it, "the old man often takes himself to task because he didn't understand boys as he might have done, when younger. He believes he could have spared his wife her great sorrow if he had only been more judicious, and won the boy's confidence as well as his affection."
"And that accounts for the deep interest he has felt in all boys ever since," Hugh was saying reflectively; "especially those who seem to have a streak of badness in them."
"I suppose," Thad remarked, "it is his way of doing penance for what he considers a fault of his earlier years. Sometimes I think I'd just like to be able to follow up that chap when he ran away from home, and learn what really did become of him."
"He may have met with a sad fate out West, Thad; plenty of fellows have gone out and been swallowed up in the whirlpool."
"If, on the other end, he didn't, and lived for many years," continued the other, "he must have been pretty tough not to write to his poor old mother at least once in a while. I could never forgive Joel for that. But they say he had an ugly nature, and was very stubborn. Well, I'm glad the deacon has taken an interest in the reformation of Nick Lang, even if I have my doubts about his meeting with any sort of success."
"Well, you may be a whole lot surprised one of these fine days, my boy," Hugh smilingly told him.
"The age of miracles has passed, Hugh," remarked Thad skeptically.
"Not the miracles that are brought about by a complete change of heart on the part of someone the world looks down on as a scamp," Hugh persisted. "But you're one of those who want to be shown; I reckon, Thad, your folks must have come from Missouri, didn't they?"
"Wrong again, Hugh, because none of them ever saw the Mississippi, though my grandfather fought through the Civil War, and was with Grant when Lee surrendered at Appomattox Court House. But I admit I am a little stubborn, and prejudiced. It runs in the blood, I suppose. The Stevens were always sort of pig-headed."
"I've also heard considerable about the deacon as a weather seer, Thad; how about that? Does he manage to hit it off occasionally, so as to equal our forecaster at Washington, whose predictions come true every now and then?"
"Oh! the deacon has made that quite a fad," he was told by the obliging Thad. "He doesn't confine himself to figuring out just what sort of day we'll have to-morrow, or even for the coming week. He looks ahead, and finds out from the signs of Nature what sort of winter or summer we're going to have next,—cold, mild, hot, cool, dry or rainy. And say, I've heard he hits it nearly every time."
"Well, what did he say about this particular winter?" Hugh asked, with renewed interest; for such subjects always gripped his attention, because he believed some of these shrewd countrymen, who watched the weather and observed what was going on all around them, could tell better than any scientific gentleman what was liable to come along during the succeeding seasons.
"He predicted a severe winter," replied Thad promptly. "Some people laughed at what he said, especially when Christmas came and went, and so far we'd had precious little of cold. But it's come along at last, and from all reports some of the most dreadful weather ever known is happening away out in the Northwest right now."
"And how does the old blacksmith get his ideas—from Nature, you said, I believe, Thad?"
"He studies the bark on the trees; the way the squirrels store the nuts away; and how the caterpillars weave their cocoons. Oh! he has a hundred different signs that he depends on before making up his mind. I used to laugh when I heard him talking about it, but since I've grown older I've decided that there may be a whole lot in that sort of weather prediction."
"I incline that same way," agreed Hugh. "Many of the little animals of the woods are given a wonderful instinct that enables them to know what to expect. Even bees that always lay by a certain amount of honey for winter use, are said to stock up extra heavy on years when a severe winter comes along. It must be a mighty interesting study, I should think. Some time I mean to know the old deacon better, so as to get posted on his vast store of knowledge along those lines."
"His wife is rather feeble now," continued Thad. "She's a fine old lady though, and as cheery as can be, considering all things."
"But if, as you said, she has to move around in one of those self-propelling wheel-chairs, how does she ever get her house-work done, Thad?"
"Oh! they have a girl in during the daytime," came the explanation; "though Mrs. Winslow still mixes all the cakes and bread. And, say, she does make the greatest crullers you ever tasted in your born days. I know, because that couple are always sending things out to houses where there are growing boys. Their world lies in boys only; you never hear either of them say a thing about girls."
Hugh could easily understand that. He had been in numerous homes where there were only boys in the family; and the parents knew next to nothing about the delight and constant anxiety of girls.
"As I like crullers about the best of any sort of cakes," he chuckled, "I think I'll have to cultivate the acquaintance of Mrs. Winslow. Some time I may have the pleasure of tasting her famous cooking that you rate so highly. But to turn to another subject, Thad, have you heard any more reports about those Keyport High fellows we expect to go up against next Saturday?"
"Yes, I have, Hugh. Podge Huggins was over there two days back. He saw them practicing on some thin ice over a pond, and he told, me they were an exceptionally husky proposition. He also saw us work yesterday afternoon in the scratch game, and when I asked him how we compared with Keyport, why Podge wouldn't give me a straight answer; but only grinned and turned the subject."
"Evidently then Podge doesn't have the confidence in his school team that he ought to feel," said Hugh, apparently not at all disturbed. "Well, we have a whole week still for practice, and ought to keep on improving. I'm hoping that Keyport may overdo it, which is always possible."
"You mean too much work will cause them to go stale; is that it,Hugh?"
"Physical directors and coaches are always on their guard against that, Thad. The boat team is always strongest at a certain point. If the race comes off when they attain that top-notch pinnacle, they're apt to do their very best; but should it be delayed, by weather or something else, the coach becomes alarmed, because he knows there's a great chance of their losing speed from too much nervous tension and overwork."
From which talk it was evident that Hugh must have imbibed considerable valuable knowledge from Mr. Leonard, who, as a college man, ought to understand a thing or two concerning sporting matters.
So the two chums continued to talk all the way back to town. Hugh had picked up a whole lot of information by making the journey out to the cross-roads. Somehow he seemed to feel drawn toward the old blacksmith, who seemed to be such a sterling character.
Hugh had met him in church circles and at sociables, but, not knowing the tragedy that lay back in the deacon's younger life, he had so far failed to cultivate his acquaintance. But he was now determined to see more of Deacon Winslow, for he believed the weather prophet would be able to tell him a host of interesting things about Nature's storehouse, from which he had gleaned astonishing facts during many years' study.
Another week of school had commenced, with winter now in full swing.
The weather seemed to have settled down to show what it could do, after such a long delay. It was making up for lost time, some of the boys declared. But then it could hardly be too cold for fellows warmly dressed, and who had their three hearty meals a day. The poor might complain, because they suffered, especially when such spells were prolonged.
Deacon Winslow was seen in town more frequently than usual, he leaving the work to the charge of his assistant for an hour or so at a time. He always carried a big basket in his wagon or sleigh; and those who knew his warm heart could easily understand that his visits were wholly at homes where there was none too much in the way of comforts and food.
During the earlier days of the week the talk was pretty much of winter sports. Ice hockey occupied a prominent place in the conversations that were carried on wherever three or more Scranton High fellows clustered, to kick their heels on the pavement, or sun themselves while perched on the top of the campus fence that would go down in history as the peer of the famous one at Yale.
During afternoons the hockey players gathered at the park, and each day saw them engaging in some sort of practice game,—their opponents being such fellows as could be gathered together to constitute a fair Seven.
Hugh seemed satisfied with the progress made, and Mr. Leonard, too, looked as if he felt well repaid for the trouble he was taking showing them certain clever moves that might reward them in a fiercely contested match.
Meanwhile the mystery concerning that robbery at Paul Kramer's Emporium had not yet been wholly solved. Leon Disney still languished in the lock-up at Police Headquarters, his folks having been unable to secure bail for him. They could not raise the amount themselves, and somehow there seemed to be no person in the whole community philanthropical enough to take chances with Leon, who was reckoned an exceedingly slippery individual, who would most likely run away before his trial came off, leaving his bondsman to "hold the bag," as the boys called it.
He was just as stubborn as ever in his denial of complicity in the robbery. Leon doubtless believed that a lie well stuck to was bound to raise up friends. There are always well disposed people whose sympathies are apt to be aroused when they hear of a case like this.
But Leon was not being held on circumstantial evidence. He had been caught "with the goods on him." All that loot hidden under the old barn on his place was positive proof of his guilt. Still he held out, and declared himself the victim of some base plot calculated to ruin his reputation; which was rather a queer thing for Leon to say, since the only reputation he had in Scranton was for badness.
Another thing was that he still declined to betray his pal, for everyone felt positive he had had company when foraging through the cases in Paul Kramer's establishment, taking such things as naturally appeal to a boy's heart—candy, cigarettes, revolvers and sporting goods.
Chief Wambold suspected one boy from the start, after finding that the former chief offender in these lines could prove a positive alibi. This was the third of the bad lot, Tip Slavin.
He had even gone to Tip's humble home and made a thorough search, high and low, but without the least success. If Tip were guilty he must have been smarter than his confederate, who had hidden his share of the plunder under the loose boards of the floor of his folks' barn.
Not having any evidence beyond suspicion the officer did not dare arrest Tip, who continued to loaf about his customary corners and look impudently at every fellow who stared meaningly at him when passing. Hugh himself never once doubted the guilt of Tip Slavin; though he fancied the authorities might have a hard time catching him, unless the stubborn Leon at the last, finding himself on the way to the Reform School, confessed, and implicated his companion.
He and Thad were talking about that very same thing on Thursday afternoon while on the way home from the park a little earlier than usual.
"Where do you think that sly Tip could have hidden the stuff, Hugh?"Thad asked, continuing their conversation.
"Oh! there would be plenty of places, and no one likely to ever run across it, on one condition," replied the other.
"What might that be?" demanded Thad.
"If only Tip could himself keep away from his cache," he was told. "That may be his undoing, after all. You know, when an ordinary thief has done something big, and is being looked for, the smart police always ask whether he has a wife or a sweetheart; because they know that sooner or later he is bound to communicate with such a person, and so a clue may be found to his hiding-place. Well, Tip's heart will be located where his treasure is. He'll soon get ayearningto indulge in some of the candy and cigarettes he's got hidden away."
"Then if Chief Wambold knew his duty," snapped Thad vigorously, "he'd keep tabs of Tip day and night, and shadow him wherever he went."
"That would be his best move," agreed Hugh.
"You ought to post the Chief on that same sort of clever job, Hugh."
"Well, I did think of that," admitted the other boy, "but somehow I hated to have a hand in railroading Tip to the Reformatory. It's true he ought to be there, for he's a terror to the whole community; but he's got a mother, Thad, and I'd hate to see her swollen eyes, and remember that I'd had a hand in parting her from her boy. It isn't as if I were paid for doing such things, as Chief Wambold is; this is hardly any business of mine, you know, and I've concluded to keep my hands off."
"Well, now, somehow I don't just look at it the way you do, Hugh. Perhaps I'm not quite so tender-hearted as you are. It may be the best thing that ever happened to Tip if he is sent to the Reform School before he plunges any deeper into the mire of crime. Plenty of boys have become fine men after being sent there, to be taught what it should have been the duty of their careless or incompetent parents to put into their heads."
"Do you mean that you might take a notion to drop a hint to theChief, Thad?"
"I'll think it over, and decide later," the other told him. "Perhaps I'll ask advice of Dominie Pettigrew, who's a good friend of mine, and would tell me what my duty was, not only to Tip, but to the community at large, which he had so flagrantly abused time and again."
"Suit yourself about that, Thad. Perhaps, after all, you may be right, and that it would be a good thing all around if Tip could be sent away with Leon. But it's likely Leon will weaken when his trial comes off, and betray his pal; though he may give Tip a hint beforehand so he can clear out in time."
"And about Nick Lang?" continued Thad.
"I haven't changed my mind about him, as yet," Hugh replied sturdily enough. "So far Nick seems to be minding his own business, and having as little to do with other boys as possible. I heard Dr. Carmack say he was astonished at the difference in Nick's work in classes. He seemed particularly pleased, too, because, with all the other teachers, he's had a hard time with Nick in the past."
"But in all the days we've practiced our hockey work Nick hasn't once joined the scrub team we've fought against. That's why we've been able to lick them so easily, I guess, Hugh. That fellow certainly is a wizard on runners, and would make a good addition to our Seven, if by some chance he could be squeezed in. But one of the Regulars would have to be dropped, and I think there would be some bad blood shown if anyone had to give way to a fellow who's had such a bad reputation in the past. Even now lots of people think he's only shamming reform for some deep purpose."
"Lots of people are due for a surprise, then, let me tell you," said Hugh. "But, of course, just as you say, I wouldn't dare take any fellow out as long as he was working his best, and substituting Nick. It would raise a howl, to be sure. But, Thad, if the time should ever come when we're up against a hard proposition, with defeat staring us in the face, and one of our team was injured, I'd grab at Nick like a drowning man does at a plank floating near."
"One lucky thing happened for us, Hugh, anyhow."
"You're referring to the toss of the coin that gave us the choice of grounds for the game, and will force Keyport to journey over here on Saturday, eh, Thad?"
"Yes, that's what I had in mind. Captain Mossman seemed to be a pretty fine sort of chap, too, I thought, when he dropped in on us yesterday afternoon to look the place over; because it seems he's never played before in Scranton."
"Well, Scranton was hardly on the map until this year," Hugh laughed."However, some of our neighboring towns have already learned thatScranton is alive and wide-awake."
"Just what they have, Hugh, and there are other surprises coming for them, too. I noticed that you cut out all play while the Keyport chap was with us. Didn't want him to get a line on our methods, I suppose?"
"It might give them a little advantage, you see, and weaken our play. Some of the Scranton boys have gone over to Keyport to see what's doing there. They bring back great reports of the confidence shown in the team; but Coach Leonard has positively forbidden any member of our Seven to make the trip. He says it smacks too much of spying to please him."
"Oh! that's drawing the line pretty tight, Hugh. Lots of players in the baseball world try their level best to get a line on a pitcher who is going to oppose them, and consider it legitimate enough."
"Well, they are professionals, to begin with," said the other; "and business is business with them. But, right or wrong, there's going to be no spying on our part, so long as Mr. Leonard has charge of the athletic end of the game at Scranton. You can depend on that every time."
"There's Owen now; he wasn't at practice this afternoon, I wonderwhy?" exclaimed Thad, as they sighted another boy coming toward them."He looks as if he might be bursting with some sort of news, Hugh.Now I wonder what he's run up against."
Owen quickly arrived. His face did have an eager look, and his eyes were fairly dancing with some sort of emotion.
"Hugh, I've got something to tell you!" he burst out with, at which Thad shot a knowing glance toward his chum, which said as plain as could be: "There, what did I say to you?"
"All right, Owen, relieve yourself of the load right away, before you burst," Hugh went on to advise, in his pleasant fashion.
"It's about a certain chap who's under suspicion right now of having been implicated in that breaking into the Kramer store and robbing it."
"Tip Slavin, you mean, Owen?" asked Hugh, looking interested at once.
"Yes, no other, Hugh. Well, I've discovered beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is the guilty partner of Leon Disney, just as everybody suspected!"
Thad gave utterance to an ejaculation, and then followed it up by saying:
"Well, now, I like that! After all, Hugh, I may not have to bother giving the Chief that tip you mentioned, if Owen here has discovered something big. Tell us about it, Owen, please; since you've got us excited by your news."
"I couldn't get over to practice this afternoon, Hugh, as of course you noticed," the other commenced to say. "But it wasn't any fault of mine, I give you my word. I had to do several things around the house for mother. One of the pipes had frozen and had to be thawed out. Then there were other jobs that kept me busy for an hour. Finally, when I began to hope I might get down a short time before you closed shop, she remembered an errand that would take me out on the road leading to Hobson's Mill-Pond. I had to go to Farmer Brown's for some butter and eggs."
All this was said with such a lugubrious expression that Hugh had to laugh.
"It's plain to be seen you started on that walk feeling anything but pleased, Owen," he went on to remark. "Of course you'd much rather have been skating with the balance of the crowd over at our new rink. Well, what happened?"
"Just this, Hugh. I was well out of town, and walking briskly along, thinking of the game we expect to win on Saturday, when someone suddenly turned a bend ahead. I saw that it was a boy who was smoking a cigarette like everything,—yes, Tip Slavin, if you please. He discovered me at about the same second, and, say, you ought to have seen how he flipped that coffin-nail thing from his lips, and came on as bold as anything."
Thad chuckled.
"Huh! guess you got him dead to rights that time, Owen. Did you accuse him of being a thief?" he asked hurriedly.
"Well, hardly, because, you see, I wasn't begging for a fight; and there's no doubt in the world that's what would have followed. But I made out as if I hadn't noticed anything out of the way, and just nodded careless like to Tip as we passed by."
"I admire your way of grasping the situation," said Hugh impressively, "because already I can guess you had some sort of scheme in your mind to make use of your discovery."
"Just what I did," chortled Owen. "I walked on, and turned the bend he had come around. Then I crept back, and peeked, taking care he didn't glimpse me. When I saw him stop as if deciding on something I was disappointed, because I expected he meant to come back after it; but then he seemed to think it not worth while, and later on passed out of sight in the distance."
"And then you hunted for the cigarette he had thrown away, I suppose?" ventured Thad.
"Oh! I'd noted the exact spot where he was at the time, and also on which side of the road he'd tossed the stub; so I didn't have much trouble about picking it up; after which I continued on my way. Hugh, here it is."
"With that Owen took something from his pocket, carefully wrapped in the folds of his handkerchief. It turned out to be a half-smoked cigarette. Hugh fastened his eyes instantly on some small printing in blue ink, giving the name of the manufacturers down in Virginia.
"It's the same make as those found under the Disney barn-floor," he said impressively; "and that alone would be proof that Tip has a cache somewhere back along the road to the mill-pond, perhaps in a hollow tree in the woods. A clever police officer could easily find it by following back Tip's trail, and learning just where he came out of the woods. I myself happen to know his left shoe has a triangular patch across the toe,—that would serve to identify the tracks anywhere."
"Listen to that, will you, Owen?" gasped the wondering Thad. "If my chum here doesn't take up the line of an investigator of crime for a livelihood believe me there'll be a great loss to the world. I wonder now, Hugh, if you've got tabs on all the fellows, so that you could tell who made any footprint in the mud?"
Hugh only laughed as he went on to say:
"It was just a mere accident that I knew that about Tip's mended sole, and it might never happen again. But when Owen here told us about a hidden cache I only gave you my opinion as to what would be the easiest way to discover its location. But what will you do about it, Owen,—let the Chief know of your discovery, or keep mum?"
"Why, I look at it this way," said the other, with a line of perplexity marked upon his usually smooth forehead; "if it was only asuspicionI might keep quiet, not wanting to injure Tip, though I've got little cause to love the brute. But since I actuallyknowsomething that would prove a valuable clue to the officers, I'm afraid it would be what I've heard a lawyer call 'compounding a felony' if I refused to inform on Tip. How about that, Hugh? I want to do the right thing, even if I hate to be an informer."
"It's up to you, Owen, and your duty is plain enough," said Hugh.
"Then I ought to see the Chief, you mean?" asked the other.
"I'd advise you to do so, for your future peace of mind, if nothing else," Hugh told the hesitating boy, who thereupon drew a long breath, and remarked:
"I'm more than half sorry now I went back to look for this cigarette; because only for my picking up such positive evidence I needn't get into this nasty game. But I'm in now, and I'll have to shoulder my share of the responsibility, I guess. So, while the thing is still fresh in my mind, I'll trot around to Headquarters to wake up our sleeping Chief. Things have come to a pretty pass here in Scranton when boys have to lend a helping hand to the police force so as to nab a petty thief."
With that Owen left them. When he had a duty to perform, however unpleasant it might be, Owen was accustomed to grappling with it, and not compromising.
Thad looked after the other and remarked:
"How queer things do come about, Hugh. Just to think of Owen discovering Tip sauntering along the road and smoking one of those stolen cigarettes. Pretty cute of him, too, sneaking back and hunting for the evidence. I suppose it'll wind up in Tip being locked up with Leon, and eventually going to the Reform School."
"Few people will be sorry," observed Hugh, although he felt a twinge when his mind reverted to the mothers of the two boys.
"I wonder what Nick thinks of it all," mused Thad. "He must realize that he had a narrow squeak of it; because, only for that sudden change of heart on his part, brought around by what you did about those nickeled skates, he might have been in the cooler right now, along with crafty Leon."
As they had arrived at the point where their paths diverged, the two chums separated. Hugh had returned home somewhat earlier than customary, as he had something to do for his mother, just as Owen had admitted was the cause of his absence from the ice that same afternoon.
Usually boys like to linger on the ice until long after the shades of night have settled down and time for supper is perilously near. With a jolly bonfire blazing on the bank, and the skaters going and coming all the while, the prospect is so alluring that it is indeed difficult for any lad to break away. And the father who has not forgotten his own shortcomings of long ago is apt to wisely overlook some such transgression of parental authority, when the ice beckons, and, in spite of good intentions, all outdoors seems to grip a fellow in fetters of steel.
Some little time later Hugh might have been seen in a neighbor's family sleigh heading out of town. There was plenty of snow for this sort of thing, though the ice had been kept well cleared through the use of brooms handled by many willing hands. The skating had not been injured in the least, for they flooded the pond each night afresh, giving it a glittering new surface by morning.
Hugh had to go a couple of miles out. He, too, was bound for a farm, to fetch back a sack of potatoes that his mother had purchased, and which should have been delivered before then, only that the one horse on the place had taken a notion to fall sick, and that rendered the farmer helpless.
It was already well on toward sunset when Hugh started out. He expected to be overtaken by twilight before getting back home; but that was a small matter, since he knew the road very well, and with the snow on the ground it would not be really dark at any time.
It was certainly bitter cold. Hugh wore warm gloves especially suited for driving, or any purpose when the zero mark was approached by the mercury in the tube of the thermometer. He also kept his ears well muffled up by means of a toque of dark blue worsted, which he wore under his ordinary cap.
As he had on a heavy wool-lined pea-jacket that buttoned close up under his chin the boy found nothing to complain about in that cold atmosphere, for his blood coursed through his veins with all the richness of healthy youth.
"But all the same," he was telling himself, as he passed an humble cottage where, through a dingy window, a lone lamp could be seen; and some children gathered about the kitchen stove, "I'm thinking this bracing weather that we boys have wanted to see so much, is pretty hard on poor folks. The world is unevenly divided, as mother often says; some have too much for their own good; and others far too little for comfort."
He presently arrived at his destination. The neighbor's horse, while not at all fleet, was a steady goer, and Hugh had not allowed him to "loaf on the job" so long as he could touch the whip to the animal's broad back.
The sack of potatoes was soon tucked away in the back part of the big sleigh. He also bundled some extra coverings about it, which he had brought along with him, to prevent any chance of the precious tubers freezing. A basket, with some other things, was also stowed away in the back of the vehicle; after which the boy said good-night to the farmer, and started on his return trip.
Hugh was about half-way home when something occurred to excite him not a little, though at the time he did not even suspect what an intimate relation it might have in connection with certain facts that he and his chum had only recently been discussing at length.
His horse suddenly gave a series of snorts, and at the same time shied to one side as if startled. Hugh gripped the lines tighter, and strained his eyes to see what was wrong, while, perhaps, his heart did start to beating faster than ordinary, although he could not be said to be alarmed in the least, only excited.
A wavering figure started out toward him. Then Hugh discovered, greatly to his surprise, that it was a woman, and that she held by the hand a child of about five, a boy at that.
She tried to speak to him, but seemed overcome with weakness, as though she might have been trudging along until exhausted by want of food and the severe cold. Hugh guessed that possibly the couple must have come out of a side road he had passed a few hundred feet back, for they were certainly not there when he went by on the way to the farmer's place.
He saw her stretch out her hand toward him, caught the feeble words, "Help—my poor little boy!" and then, to Hugh's utter dismay, she sank to the ground in a heap!
Fortunately, Hugh was a lad equal to any occasion. Of course, he had never had an experience like this before; but somehow he seemed to understand that the first, indeed, only thing to be done, was to get the woman and child in the sleigh some way or other, and then make for home at breakneck speed.
So out he jumped, and, after considerable difficulty, managed to lift the now unconscious woman into the sleigh. He had never realized until then how like lead an inert person might seem, although not heavy in reality, when possessed of life and animation.
He tore the coverings off the sack of potatoes, and tucked them eagerly about his charges; for he had also placed the little fellow, now sobbing bitterly, under the possible impression that "mommy" was dead, in the sleigh. As for the potatoes they could "go hang," as he told himself under his breath; though, perhaps, they might not freeze in the brief time he meant to be on the road now.
In again Hugh jumped. Old Bill felt the whip come down this time in deadly earnest, and actually jumped in his amazement. Hugh kept him going at a mad pace. He was thrilled with the importance of getting home as speedily as possible. The woman had looked so deathly white that the boy was alarmed. And how he pitied the little chap who cuddled against his side, still surging over now and then with his grief, while Hugh drove along.
They struck town, and people turned to stare upon seeing Hugh whipping his horse so unmercifully. They could not understand it, and rubbed their eyes. Surely that was Hugh Morgan in the sleigh, but why shouldhebe pounding his horse, and half standing erect? If it had been a fire chief going to a blaze he could hardly have excited more comment.
A boy who was walking briskly along the street with a package under his arm came to a full stop, and stared as though he thought he had taken leave of his seven senses. It was Thad Stevens, and no wonder he was amazed, having recognised his chum in the frantic driver.
Thad gave vent to a whistle to relieve his pent-up feelings. Then he started on a gallop after Hugh. He could not rest easy until he had learned just what might have happened to cause his usually collected chum to act in this strange fashion.
When he arrived at the Morgan home it was to find Hugh had landed the child on the little porch in front of the door. This latter was open, and his mother, together with the hired girl, stood there, trying to comprehend what Hugh was saying.
Thad came panting up, and was immediately seized upon by Hugh.
"Great luck! Just in time to give me a helping hand, Thad!" cried the other.
"What with—the Murphies?" asked the astonished Thad; for he had known Hugh expected to go out to the farm after a sack of potatoes.
"Not this time," snapped the other; "it's a poor woman who fainted from cold and exhaustion while she was trying to ask me the way somewhere. That child is hers. Come, give me a hand, Thad, and we'll carry her into the house. Mother says she must be put to bed right away, and won't hear of my taking her over to the hospital."
That aroused Thad, and between them the two stout lads had little difficulty in carrying the still unconscious young woman into the warm house. Up the stairs Mrs. Morgan and the girl led them, and into the neat spare-room, reserved for favored company.
Once she had been laid on the bed, after the blankets and coverings had been turned down, and the little boy was being soothed by Hugh's mother, she told the boys they could now go downstairs again, and she would report later as to what next should be done.
"First carry in the potatoes, Hugh, for they are too expensive this season to let the frost get them," she went on to say, patting the little fellow, whose tears had by now ceased to run down his chubby cheeks; "then call up Doctor Cadmus, and tell him to come around immediately. I'm sorry your father is away from home just now, but I can depend on my son."
The boys went out again and lugged the heavy sack of potatoes around to the cellar door, by means of which they were taken in where they would be safe from the bitter air of the winter. Then Thad was sent around to the neighbor's with the horse and sleigh, while Hugh meant to get the good physician on the wire, and hasten his coming on an urgent call.
"If Mr. Jones notices that old Bill is wheezing a bit, as if he'd had a warm run of it, please explain how it happened, Thad. I wouldn't like him, after all his kindness, to think I'd whip up his horse for nothing, or just in a spirit of sport."
As it was an hour when Doctor Cadmus was through with his day's calls, Hugh had the good luck to hear the physician's voice on the wire.
"Mother wants you to come right over, Doctor!" Hugh told him.
"Who's sick?" demanded the other, being very fond of all the Morgan family; "not your good mother, I hope, Hugh?"
"No, neither of us, Doctor," the boy continued. "I ran upon a young woman and a small child when on the road after potatoes in Mr. Jones' sleigh. She fainted dead away before she could tell me who she was, or where she was going. I managed to get them both aboard, and fetched them here. Mother has put her to bed; but she is afraid a fever is coming on, and it worries her. You'll be here right away, Doctor, won't you, please?"
"As fast as I can get there, my son!" came the prompt reply.
If there was a touch of pride in the voice one could not wonder at it; for like a good many other people of Scranton Doctor Cadmus had conceived a great liking for Hugh; and thought there had never been another boy fashioned after his model, which, of course, was all nonsense, as Hugh often protested indignantly when he heard any such talk.
Only a short time elapsed before the doctor and Thad reached the front door at the same minute.
"Wait for me in the library, Thad, if you don't mind being late for your supper. Doctor, I'll show you the way upstairs," and with this remark Hugh preceded the stout little physician up to the second floor.
As for Thad, he never once dreamed of "breaking away" at that most interesting stage. Suppers occurred three hundred and sixty-five times a year, with an extra one thrown in for good measure when leap-year came around; but exciting events like the one happening to Hugh were of rare occurrence. Catch him thinking of eating when there was a chance right at his door to have a hand in a thrilling drama that beat the "movies" all hollow!
So Thad sat down.
Hugh soon joined him. He was immediately pounced upon by his curious chum, and plied with all manner of questions. By degrees Thad "pumped him dry," and there was nothing more to tell.
"We'll have to wait until she comes back to her senses," Hugh finally remarked sagely, "before we'll be able to learn anything definite about them, mother and the doctor both say."
"And she's actually out of her head, is she, right now?" Thad demanded.
"Yes, and keeps on saying the same thing over and over, just as if it might have been in her mind so much lately. She keeps on pleading with someone she calls grandfather, and begging him not to put them out of his heart and home, for little Joey's sake—it's always little Joey she's worrying about and not herself. The doctor says she was utterly exhausted by want of sustaining food, added to anxiety and the exposure she had suffered."
"But where could she have come from, Hugh? She has never been in Scranton, you said that, and I never saw her before either. You told me the little boy can only say his name is Joey Walters; and honest to goodness, Hugh, there isn't a single family of that name in or around this town that I ever heard of."
"They've been trying to get some clues out of the little chap," continued Hugh, "but without much success. All he's said so far is that they've come ever so far, and that he liked riding on the cars first-rate, only mommy cried so much and wouldn't eat every time he did. From the way he talked they suspect that the young woman may have come from the West somewhere."
"Sheisyoung then, Hugh?"
"Yes, not over twenty-five or so, the doctor says, but frail-looking. He thinks there is nothing serious the matter with her, only that she's been underfed for a long time, and has suffered. Perhaps she's denied herself proper food so as to save up enough money to make this trip."
Thad shook his head as if feeling sad over the happening; for the boy had a tender heart.
"Well, I certainly hope she'll be better tomorrow, and able to tell something about herself," he went on to say, as he prepared to leave. "And, Hugh, it was fine of your mother to refuse to let her be taken over to the Scranton Hospital, when the doctor proposed such a thing."
"My mother wouldn't hear of it," Hugh told him proudly. "Why, already she's in love with that little chap, and he's enough of a darling to make any woman with a heart want to mother him. Both of us seem to think we may have seen him before somewhere; or else he resembles someone we've known once on a time; but, so far, we can't imagine who or where it was. But once she comes to her senses, whether to-morrow, or some days afterwards, of course the truth will be known."
"And Hugh," said the other, with one of his smiles, "if you feel that you can't wait for her to tell, suppose you start out to-morrow afternoon and try to strike a clue on your own account. That wonderful faculty you possess for investigating things ought to put you on the track."
"Perhaps I may, that is, if I have time to-morrow," chuckled Hugh; "because, you know, we have our last practice at hockey before meeting those Keyport experts."
"You said you felt sure she must have come out of that side road near where you met them," continued the persistent Thad.
"Yes, but only because I hadn't seen them when going out to the farm," his chum explained. "They may have come out of that road; and then again it's barely possible they were trying to make a fire somewhere among the trees to keep them from freezing."
"By going along that same road, and inquiring at every house you came to," Thad continued, "like as not you'd get word of them, if so be they stopped to ask directions, or a warm cup of coffee. People around here never refuse anyone who comes to their doors. Well, see you in the morning then, Hugh. Good-night!"
Friday afternoon had come, and the game at the park was over.Although the scratch team organized by Mr. Leonard to oppose theRegulars put up a strong fight, they were virtually "snowed under" bythe splendid playing of Hugh and his six comrades.
The experienced coach seemed very well satisfied. He openly complimented the lads after the contest had been carried to its finish.
"You are doing splendid work, fellows," he told them, with a look of pride on his face; "and the way you played this afternoon was worthy of any Montreal Seven that ever toured the East to show how they do things up there in Canada at their favorite winter sport. And the boys who fought tooth and nail to hold you back, I congratulate them also; for they did excellent work. It was no disgrace to be beaten in that game; few hockey teams could have held their own against such fine play. Keep it up to-morrow, and there need be no doubt as to who the winners will be."
It can be easily understood that Hugh and Thad were feeling in a particularly good humor then, as they started to walk to town after the game, having an errand there before going home.
"I haven't had a fair chance to say a word with you to-day, Hugh," the latter broke out with, once they were alone; "and I'm awfully anxious to hear how that poor young woman at your house is coming along. Has she spoken yet, and told who she is, and where she came from?"
Hugh shook his head in the negative.
"Never a word as yet, Thad. Fact is, Doctor Cadmus says she mustn't be worried by questions for several days, possibly."
"Then she's still wandering in her mind, is she, Hugh?"
"Yes, and saying all sorts of things about her girlhood days, as well as about her husband, who, mother thinks, must have come to his death in some accident. She calls him Joey, too, just like the boy. It must be a family name, we imagine. So mother is content to wait until she is better, when she will tell all she wants us to know."
"Then you didn't bother taking that wise tip I gave you, Hugh?" andThad's voice had a little ring of disappointment about it.
"Oh! I was up early this morning, and, as the road out there seemed so hard and firm, the snow being packed down solid, I just jumped on my wheel, and took a little run up in that direction. It wasn't so easy, once I struck in on that side road, but I managed to pedal along somehow."
"There are a number of houses on that road, I chance to know, Hugh; the Simms live there, likewise the Thompsons and the Garrabrants."
"I managed to reach those three houses," Hugh continued; "but it didn't pay me, so far as results went, though I enjoyed the run all right."
"From that I imagine nobody had seen the woman and child yesterday afternoon coming along that particular road, eh, Hugh?"
"No one could remember having met or seen such a person," Hugh told him; "and as strangers are uncommon in these parts they would surely have noticed her if she passed their doors. So I came to the conclusion, as I couldn't even find the marks of her shoes in the snow along the road, that she must have come over from Belleville way, and was in the woods at the time I first went by, which would account for my not meeting her."
"To change the subject, Hugh, I notice that Nick still fights shy of the rest of the crowd these days. He was skating on the ice to-day; but absolutely declined to take part in the game; though Mr. Leonard, wanting to make the opposition as strong as possible so as to put us to our best licks, went over and talked with him, trying to coax Nick to join the line-up. What makes him act that way, Hugh? One would think Nick'd be glad of the chance to play."
"He would, Thad, he certainly would, because he enjoys hockey as much as you or myself; but I reckon Nick, for the first time in all his life, finds himself afflicted with shyness. You see, he knows people don't, as a rule, believe in this sudden reformation. They can't have any faith in a fellow who's fooled them so often before. And that makes him want to keep away. Nick is fighting it out all by himself. If we knew all the wonderful things that he's grappling with these days I imagine we'd sympathize with the poor fellow, Thad."
"Hugh, you may be right. Already I'm beginning to feel sorry for saying some of the mean things I did when first we guessed Nick was trying to turn over a new leaf. It must be terrible hard for a boy who's always been bad to change around and face the other way."
"Stop and think, Thad. Take the case of that Jean Valjean, for instance. Now, he underwent a complete change of heart, and from being a beast, hating humanity, he grew to love other people, and be ready to sacrifice himself to save another. You remember how he voluntarily gave himself up to the law in that courtroom scene, just to save a miserable wretch who was about to be punished under the belief that he was the genuine Jean Valjean."
"Yes, but Hugh, he was unknown when he fought his battle, and won out. Besides, he had the money he received for the silver the priest gave him, with which to get a start in the world. But Nick here is known, and people point their fingers at him with scorn, and talk openly about his playing another of his pranks."
"That was just what I had in mind when I spoke, Thad. Nick has the harder row of the two to hoe. And if he wins out he'll deserve a lot of praise, I tell you. But see who's coming along here in a rig, will you?"
"Why, it's good old Deacon Winslow, the blacksmith weather prophet; and, Hugh, isn't he beckoning to us right now?"
"Just what he is; let's cross over and see what he wants with us," Hugh immediately went on to say; for, as has been intimated before in these pages, he had come to feel a great interest in the brawny smith, and wanted to cultivate a closer acquaintance with him; there was something so genial, so wholesome about the owner of the crossroads smithy.
"Jump in and go along with me, lads," sang out Mr. Winslow, as they came up. "I'm bound around to the home of Mrs. Disney on a little errand; and, since you two are interested, I thought you might like to help me explain to the poor woman that I want to go on her boy's bail. It's a shame he has to stay in the lockup all this time, waiting for his trial to come off."
The chums exchanged quick looks.
"How about it, do we go along, Hugh?" asked Thad.
For answer the other hopped up alongside the deacon, and, of course, Thad did likewise. Since the Disney home was not far away they were quickly at the door, and knocking for admittance.
Leon's mother answered the summons. She looked frightened at seeing the huge bulk of the blacksmith there, and the two boys with him. But no sooner had he spoken in his kindly fashion than the anxious expression fled from her pale face.
"Please excuse me for dropping in on you, Mrs. Disney," said the deacon, after they had been ushered into the humble sitting-room, where a wood-fire burned on the hearth; "but I just couldn't stand it any longer. I want to stand bail for your boy, so you can have him home again with you till his trial comes off."
Leon's mother looked embarrassed. She twisted her apron in her nervous fingers, and seemed very near the point of tears.
"Oh! it's kind of you, Deacon Winslow, indeed it is!" she finally exclaimed, as she looked up at the smiling, sympathetic big man; "but, after all I think it is better that Leon remained where he is though it almost breaks my heart to say it."
Thad looked astonished, but Hugh nodded his head, as though he could understand what was back of those words so strange for a mother to speak. Deacon Winslow was also considerably surprised, it seemed.
"But the bail bond is only for a thousand dollars, madam," he said; "and I can afford to put that up for his appearance in court later."
"Thank you again and again for your kindness to a poor woman, and a mother, sir!" she exclaimed with a half-suppressed sob in her voice; "but there does not seem to be any doubt about my boy's guilt, much as I hate to acknowledge it. His association with that Lang boy has been his ruin. And he would be likely to run away, to try and escape his just punishment, so that the bail bond would be forfeited."
"But even so it wouldn't ruin me, Mrs. Disney," continued the deacon; "and I hate to think of you sitting here, and crying your eyes out because he is locked up."
She looked straight at him then, as she went on to say bravely:
"But, sir, I am thinking of what will eventually become of my boy. If he runs away now he will sink lower and lower, until he commits some terrible crime, it may be. But Dominie Pettigrew tells me that if he goes to the Reform School there is a chance that he may come out later on completely changed in heart, and ready to play his honest part in the world. No, I have thought it all over, and prayed to be led to do what is best for my Leon. I cannot accept your offer, though you mean it in all kindness. For his sake I will wait until his time has expired, and continue to hope it may be the making of my poor boy."
Deacon Winslow did not attempt to urge her. Indeed, he could hardly say anything, for he was half choking with emotion. But he squeezed her hand, and gave her a look that must have carried some comfort to her poor distracted heart.
Once outside, the boys shook hands with the big man. Hugh was feeling more drawn towards him than ever.
"I'm coming out to visit you soon, Deacon," he told the other; "I want to know you better. There are a lot of things I mean to ask you about the habits of those little animals from which you get your hints about the weather; and you told me to drop in any time I felt like it, you remember."
"You'll be doubly welcome, both of you, lads!" the big blacksmith assured Hugh, as he drove away, more or less disappointed because his little plan to assist a sorrow-stricken mother had fallen through.
"Say, his heart must be as big as a bushel-basket, Hugh," admitted Thad, as they walked along, heading for the open square in the center of the town.
Two minutes later and Thad gave vent to an ejaculation.
"It's all up now, Hugh!" he said, in a half-disappointed tone.
"What is?" demanded his comrade wonderingly.
"The Chief has arrested Tip Slavin, I mean. He must have heard what Owen Dugdale had to say about meeting Tip Slavin smoking a cigarette on the road to the mill-pond, and set a trap for him. He's just stopped his big car in front of Headquarters, and one of his men is lifting out a load of stuff, doubtless the plunder Tip cached in the woods up there. And the Chief has his hand on Tip's shoulder as they get out. I notice that Tip has lost his arrogant look, and seems badly scared, too!"
"Let's step over and see how it happened, Hugh!"
As Hugh himself was not averse to picking up some information along that same line, the two chums entered the station-house just after the Chief and his man. The latter officer had placed the large package done up in a burlap bag on the floor. He was grinning, as though considerably pleased with the final results of the raid. Chief Wambold, too, was indulging in a smile as the boys entered; he even winked one eye at Thad, as though in a particularly good humor.
But there was one person present who did not seem to be in a happy frame of mind. That was Tip. He looked "in the dumps," as Thad expressed it; and on seeing the boys enter dropped his chin upon his breast in shame. All the bravado was gone from his demeanor now; he knew that with that evidence against him he was headed for the House of Refuge on a fast train.
The man took him through a door into another room, the Chief's private office. From this Hugh guessed that Tip was about to be questioned at length, in the hope of his possibly implicating still a third party in the theft.
"So you found his secret cache, did you, Chief?" remarked Thad boldly. "When Owen Dugdale left us he said he was going straight to you, to tell about meeting Tip on the road smoking a cigarette; and he showed us that it bore the same trademark as those stolen from Paul Kramer's place."
Thad went into detail so as to let the tall Chief understand they already knew all about the discovery, and had been told, in fact, even before he was.
"Yes, we took a hunt up there in the woods this morning," explained the other, with a broad smile; "and ran across some tracks that looked like Tip's. When we followed the trail it led us direct to a big tree that was hollow; and inside the cavity lay that bundle, wrapped in a burlap sack. It was almost too easy. An experienced crook would never have committed such a blunder, and left so plain a trail. Why, it looked as if we were being taken by the hand and led there."
"But I guess you didn't carry away the stuff right then, did you,Chief?" Thad went on to say, a wise look on his face.
"Hardly, son, hardly," replied the other, with a gesture of his hands. "That would have been too silly for anything. What we did was to back away, and cover our own footprints as well as we could. Then we hid to await developments. I left my man up there while I came back to town to conduct my business. Later in the day I once more joined him. I expected the boy might be getting hungry for a smoke about the same time Owen met him on the road. Well, he came, and we pounced down on him just when he had opened the pack, and was lighting a weed with his trembling, tobacco-stained fingers; because, just like Leon Disney, and that slick Nick Lang, Tip is a confirmed cigarette fiend, you know."
"Well, for one, Nick has cut the habit out, Chief, I happen to know, for he told me so," Hugh ventured to say.
The big police officer sneered, as though he refused to believe there could any good come out of the boy who bore that detested name of Nick Lang. During the whole of the time he occupied his present exalted position, Chief Wambold had been plagued by the pranks of Nick and his cronies; and, in spite of all his efforts, up to now he had been unable to fasten anything serious upon them, although he gave them credit for every piece of maliciousness practiced in Scranton during that period.
"Well, perhaps some people may believe Nick didn't have a hand in this outrage," he went on to say, "but I'll never think otherwise than that it was his genius for organizing raids that was responsible for the robbery. At the least, he may have changed his mind, seeing things getting too warm in police circles here. But never forget to keep one eye open when dealing with such a slippery customer, for his repentance is only skin-deep at the best."
Hugh made no reply. He knew it would have been utterly useless, because the Chief was not only a very stubborn man, but inclined to be a narrow-minded one in the bargain. So he and Thad walked out. The last they heard the officer call after them was:
"Make up your minds, boys, Scranton is going to be purged now as never before. We've made a good beginning, and it'll be pretty unhealthy for anybody to start a racket from now on. Tip and Leon will be going to the Reform School inside of a few days, after they've had their trial before the Justice; and the town will be well rid of a pair of scapegraces. And thank you for what assistance you may have given us, boys."
As they walked along Thad vented his feelings in the matter.
"It looks as if that episode might be called closed, eh, Hugh? The evidence is so powerfully strong that neither of the boys can put up anything like a half-way decent defense. They're going to be sent away, and we'll not be bothered with the bunch again. With Nick on the mourners' bench, the old town is going to be pretty orderly for a while, until some fresh spirits break loose."
"Let's hope it may be a long time before Nick has a successor," said Hugh. "This whole thing is going to be a lesson to such fellows as were inclined to run around with the street gangs, and play practical jokes nights."
"I notice one thing," remarked Thad, "which is that some of those fellows who used to loaf on the street corners in summer are now coming to the club-house at the baseball park, now it's opened three nights a week. The only trouble is they haven't got half enough magazines and games there to go around, so many visit the big room to get in out of the cold these nights."
"That is going to be remedied before long," Hugh told him. "Some of the men of the town, and Deacon Winslow heads the list, I understand, have arranged to spend a lot more money on certain improvements; and among other things there will be a pretty fair gymnasium, as well as more reading matter of the right sort for boys."
"Now, that's news to me, Hugh!" exclaimed the delighted Thad; "queer that I hadn't heard a word about it before. But then you get wind of everything that's going on. Folks think they ought to ask your advice on all sorts of subjects. That's what it means to be the most popular boy in a town."
Hugh laughed.
"Thanks for the compliment, Thad," he said; "but just think of the weight of responsibility I have to stagger under, even as the captain of the Scranton Seven. Why, everybody stops me on the street, and asks the most remarkable questions. They seem to think I'm gifted with prophetic vision. They ask me to tell them just how badly we're going to whip Keyport to-morrow morning, and lots of other things that I know no more about than a baby might."
"Well, have you decided to give up trying to learn where the woman with the little child came from?" asked Thad, again switching the subject in an abrupt fashion he had.
"Oh! I don't know whether it will pay me to go out again, and try to trace her back to Belleville, or some such place," said Hugh. "Doctor Cadmus assured my mother she would certainly be in her rational mind inside of two days at the longest. So I reckon I had better lie on my oars, and wait. I've got plenty to bother about, as it is, with that hot game coming off in the morning."
"Perhaps you're wise about that, Hugh. I know I'm a lot too impatient by half, and can't bear to wait for things to come to me. That's why I always stepped out to meet the ball when at bat; and I often caught it before the break came to make it a sharp drop."
"Mother says she thinks her full name is Judith Walters, though, as far as we know now, that doesn't help any. Still, if she didn't recover, it might assist in finding her family, so they could take the boy. He's a fine little chap, and I've already made great friends with him."
"You say she keeps on speaking to someone she calls grandfather, who seems likely to turn them both out of the house?" Thad persisted, as though he might be trying to figure something out.
"Yes, and so we take it for granted there must be some sort of a pitiful family tragedy about the whole affair," Hugh told him. "Mother suspects she may have married some years ago against her grandfather's will; and, losing her husband suddenly through accident, she is now on her way back, to plead with a hard-hearted old man for a place under his roof. But as you say there's no family named Walters near here, and we certainly don't know of any girl leaving her home that way."
"The chances are," Thad said decisively, "that she was meaning to pass through Scranton, and was heading for some other town, perhaps Allandale. You might find out if any such thing happened there some years ago; or if an old man could be found who would welcome a dear little boy named Joey."
The subject being exhausted for the time being, the boys talked of something else until they finally separated, each heading for his own particular supper table.
Of course, the news of Tip's arrest was soon known all over town. Most people had anticipated such an event, and professed not to be in the least surprised to hear about it. Nevertheless, the clever device of Chief Wambold, which he took care should be passed from lip to lip, so as to add to his popularity, was highly commended.
And there never was a time when Scranton passed a more peaceful night than on that occasion. Already great good was coming of the breaking up of the vicious gang that had held sway much too long. With two of the members locked up, being just as good as on their way to the Reform School, and the leader forsaking his former evil practices, it looked as though the police force of Scranton would soon become fat and lazy through lack of activity.
Hugh did not go out that evening. He was tired, and wished to conserve his energies so as to be in first-class trim for that lively morning brush with Keyport's Big Seven.
So he spent considerable time playing with little Joey; and, being still hopeful of learning something that would afford a clue to the mysterious past of the boy's young mother, Hugh often plied him with questions.
But his success was hardly flattering to his acumen, for the little fellow could not tell him anything that would be of material help. Hugh guessed that they had once been out in some mining country, from certain things the boy chanced to mention. He also had reason to believe the father had come to his death through such a catastrophe as so often happens in the mines; for the boy spoke of many families losing those they loved when "poppy" was buried in the cold ground.