CHAPTER II.

WHAT PRESENCE OF MIND MEANT.

While Billy Worth was talking Hugh was acting. That seemed to be a chronic habit with the scout master. An emergency never caused him to quail, and as a rule he could be depended on to do the right thing at the right time.

That was where the benefit of his preliminary look around came in. The very second that he discovered the accident to the descending stone-laden flat-car, Hugh knew that it was up to him to do something in order to save those imperiled orphans from a terrible calamity.

The car was on a run of the track that was very nearly level, so that as yet it had not attained the very great velocity sure to follow, after it came over the crown of the rise, just above where the two boys stood.

Hugh stooped and caught hold of a small log that he had noticed when he made his movement in the direction of the track. It took all his strength to lift it up, and Billy would have been of great assistance could his wits have served him as speedily as was the case with the scout leader.

With a tremendous effort Hugh raised the log and hurled it upon the track. Just as he intended it should do, it fell with one end braced in a cavity, and the other pointing upwards. When the onrushing heavy car struck that obstruction, it could not very well go any further, but must be hurled from the track.

All this happened almost in a breath. The car had now reached the edge of the steeper descent, and was seen by the frightened children below. Some of the youngsters were being flung from the wagon by the driver, but there would never have been time to have saved them all before the constantly increasing speed of the runaway car brought it upon the trapped wagon.

The horses, as though conscious of their peril, pranced and jumped wildly, but for all their antics did not seem able to release the imprisoned wheel. As for the children they shrieked louder than ever, for the anticipated danger had become a real one.

Billy began to realize that his more active chum had done something while he was only standing there shivering. He also found Hugh’s hand gripped on his arm, and that he was being dragged hastily back from the track.

“Oh!” gasped Billy, as with a rush and a roar the laden stone car came speeding down the incline.

Hugh held his very breath in fear lest the uptilted log might not project far enough to catch the base of the heavy car. But it turned out all right.

There was a mighty crash when car and log came in collision, and Hugh saw the descending vehicle of transportation flung bodily aside. It landed in a heap upside-down—something of a wreck, with the rocks scattered in all directions.

Billy tried to shout, but his best effort was hardly more than a whisper, such was the reaction that instantly set in when he saw the danger to the orphans was a thing of the past.

He did manage to seize Hugh’s hand and pat it tenderly, as though in that way he could find an outlet for the mingled emotions of gratitude and pride that filled his loyal heart.

Some scouts might have immediately hurried down, to allow themselves to be made heroes of by those who had witnessed this presence of mind on the part of the boy. That was not Hugh Hardin’s way.

“Go down if you want to, Billy,” he told the other, when importuned to descend to the road. “They’ve managed to get a lever under the wheel now, and pried it loose, so they can go on. I want to see just how the car struck, and how close it came to passing over the log without connecting.”

That seemed to be the point giving him the greatest satisfaction; for he found that had the stout little log been six inches shorter, it would have failed to throw the car from the track. What that meant made Hugh shiver as he looked.

“Here comes Mr. Prentice up to see what happened!” exclaimed Billy.

“There’s one thing this accident may bring about,” remarked Hugh, “and that’s a change in this grade. The stone cars should never cross the road at all, but go over or under it. When the town council hears about this new trouble, mark my words if they don’t make him change his grade.”

“It would be just like him to blame you for smashing his car, Hugh,” said Billy, who apparently did not entertain a very high opinion of the owner of the big stone quarry.

“Let him!” replied the other, unconcernedly. “The driver of the wagon must have seen all that happened. I’d be willing to go on record for what I’ve done. Still, knowing the kind of a man he is, I hardly expect to be thanked for saving him from a lot of lawsuits that might bankrupt him; or perhaps even being accused of criminal carelessness in a coroner’s court.”

Mr. Prentice came climbing hurriedly to the scene of the wreck. There was an awed expression on his face in place of its habitual stern look. The man who had jumped from the car when the brake gave way, and who was an ignorant foreigner, reached the spot about the same time.

The owner of the quarry examined the remains of his heavy car. Then he looked at the track, and discovered the partly broken log projecting upward.

“Who put that log in there?” he asked.

“I did, Mr. Prentice,” answered Hugh, modestly but firmly; “but only when I saw that the car was heading downward, and that it would likely strike the wagonload of children stalled on the crossing.”

Mr. Prentice did not say another word. He looked hard at the boy, who did not allow his eyes to drop a particle. Mr. Prentice was thinking many things just then; his mind must have been in a riotous condition.

He went back and again looked around at the scene of the wreck, up the hill, then down to where the wagon had been stalled.

“I guess he understands pretty well what a great thing you did for him when you jumped that car off the track, Hugh,” muttered Billy, as they watched the quarry owner moving around, and talking with the man who had abandoned the runaway car on finding the brake had given way.

“All I’m hoping is that he makes up his mind now never to drop another load of rock down this grade till he’s made it safe for anyone passing on the county road below,” Hugh replied.

“But he didn’t even thank you, Hugh.”

“I never expected he would, and it doesn’t matter a particle to me if he keeps on forgetting to,” said the scout master, smilingly. “There’s enough satisfaction in _knowing_ you’ve done your duty, without looking for thanks or praise. The feeling that comes from within beats any outside commendation all hollow, according to my way of thinking.”

“Huh! I’d just like to tell the old man what I think of him,” grumbled the indignant Billy.

“For fear you might be tempted to say something you’d be sorry for afterward,” remarked Hugh, “suppose we slip down to the road and head for home.”

Though still grumbling, and evidently feeling pretty hard toward Mr. Prentice, Billy could not refuse to keep his chum company as the other started down the side of the hill in the direction of the road. He looked back several times, however, and said a few things half under his breath, which could not have been very complimentary to the quarryman, if the sour expression on Billy’s round face stood for anything.

Once down at the crossing the scouts stopped to exchange a few words with the man who was stationed there to signal when a car was coming. He, too, chanced to be a Polock and could not talk English very well, so Hugh looked for himself to see how it happened the wheel of the heavily-laden wagon came to be trapped in the way they had seen, and just at the wrong time.

Then they surveyed the situation so as to see whether it would be possible to build an overhead track, or dig one under the road.

“It can be done as easy as anything,” said Billy, after they had discussed this phase of the question. “You mark my words, this near-accident is going to be the last straw on the camel’s back. There’s been talk of making him change his grade a number of times! now it’s got to come. And, Hugh, they’ve got to thank you for——”

“Oh! come on, let’s be on the hike for home!” laughed the other, shaking his head as if to warn Billy he would not stop to listen to anything that bordered on praise.

Billy was muttering to himself as he followed, this time vowing that he’d see to it Hugh received all possible honor for having done a clever thing, in spite of his modesty about owning up to it.

As they entered the outskirts of the town it happened that they came upon a boy who must have seen them from a store near by, for he came running out to intercept the two scouts.

“Why, hello, Addison!” said Billy, giving Hugh a wink as much as to say: “Isn’t it queer that you sometimes run across the very fellow you’re thinking about?”

“Hugh,” said the boy, who was not as robust as he might have been, and had rather a pasty look about his face, which indicated too little outdoor exercise, “tell me, have you seen him yet?”

Hugh knew that he must give the other a grievous disappointment, but he would have to be told some time, and it had better be over with.

“Yes, it happened that we ran across your father up the road just a little while back, Addison, and thinking it as good a chance as any to speak to him about you joining the scouts, I started in.”

“But—you didn’t have any luck, did you, Hugh?” asked the boy, in a trembling voice, and with a disappointed look on his face.

“I’m sorry to say I didn’t seem to convince him just then that it would be a good thing for you to join the troop, Addison,” replied Hugh.

The boy drew a long breath. His lower lip quivered, and Billy ground his teeth in sudden anger at the short-sighted policy of a father who could not see how much necessity there was for a boy like Addison to be encouraged to take all the outdoor exercise he could get in order to build up his physical strength, and his nervous system in the bargain.

“I just expected it would be that way, Hugh,” he said, presently, “though you do have such splendid luck telling things that I kept hugging a little hope he might look into the matter, anyway. But it’s all over now.”

“Oh! I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Addison,” Hugh told him. “One of the very first things a scout is taught is never to give a thing up until he’s exhausted every possible effort. And I haven’t thrown the job over yet by any means.”

Addison tried to smile, but the effort was a dismal failure. He looked more inclined to break down and cry than anything else, Billy thought.

“It’s nice of you to say that, Hugh, and I’m sure you’ll do all you can; but I’ve nearly lost hope.”

“Get that notion out of your head, first of all, I tell you, Addison. I expect to see your father again, and while I can’t explain what I mean, still there are certain things working that may make him see matters in an entirely new light. Even Mr. Prentice has had to change his mind a few times in his life.”

“Oh! yes, in a business way, Hugh, but you don’t know my father. He’s got his notions of how boys ought to toe the chalk line, and nothing that can ever happen will make him look at things differently. It’s all up with me, and I’ll never be a scout, never!”

“Wait!” Hugh told him, as they separated, “there is still plenty of hope. I’ll be working for you, and a lot of the other boys will, too!”