Part 9

The track here had been cut through the side of a low hill and the banks of earth arose high on each side of him so that his footsteps on the wet ties echoed back and made him feel more depressed and lonesome than ever. The cut extended for several hundred feet, always turning gradually around the base of the hill. On the south side the snow covered the bank and tiny glaciers had formed, but across the track the warmth of the sun had melted the snow and little rivulets of water were wearing runways into the gravel. Kid had passed the middle of the cut and the Banks on either side had diminished in height when he saw that a few yards ahead one rail was buried almost a foot deep in sand and gravel and small stones. Kid hurried forward. There had been a slide of earth from the bank. Frost and sun had combined to deposit a ton or so of earth between the bank and the middle of the track, and the rail on that side for a space of several feet was hidden deep. Kid was vaguely troubled. He didn’t know much about such matters, but it seemed to him that if a train came along it would have some difficulty getting over it. Well, he supposed it was no affair of his. The engineer would see it and stop the train and shovel it off; that was about what would happen, he supposed. Only, because of the curve, perhaps the engineer wouldn’t see it in time. Then there’d be an awful jounce――worse than when you went over a curbing in an automobile; Kid had done that once and knew――and perhaps the wheel might get off the rail and there’d be an accident. He wished the track were straighter so the engineer would be certain to see the obstruction in time. He began to think that perhaps it was his duty to do something about it, to tell someone. But who was there to tell? The track-workers were a mile behind by now and a train might come long before he could reach them. Besides, he reflected, since they were Italians, he wasn’t at all certain he could make them understand!

Kid sat down on a convenient rock across the track and frowned over the problem. Of course, as there was only one pair of rails, trains could only come from one direction at a time. If he only knew which direction the next train would come from he could go that way and warn the engineer. He tugged at his leather fob and grunted until a small silver watch slipped into sight. Nearly half past two. The afternoon train from New York reached Mt. Pleasant at――why, it was almost due there now! Kid bounded to his feet and set off down the track as fast as his legs would take him. He reached the end of the cut and the track straightened ahead of him for a quarter of a mile. There was nothing in sight. Out of breath and tuckered, he stopped and listened. At first he heard nothing but the pounding of his heart. Then there came a low hum from the distance, which might or might not be the sound of an approaching train. Kid remembered that if you laid your ear to a rail you could hear a train a long way off. He tried it, listening only for a moment. Then he was on his feet, tossing his ulster to the side of the road and wriggling out of his jacket. The jacket went on top of the ulster. Then off came the old frayed red sweater and at that very instant there was a screech down the track and the train, with a white billow of steam over the engine, slid into sight. Kid seized the sweater by the arms and sped down the center of the track, waving it vigorously. On came the train, nearer and nearer, and the rails rang with the clangor of its wheels. Kid stopped running and sought a place of safety at the side of the road. But he still waved the sweater, wondering why the train didn’t stop. And then, just when he was sure that his warning was wasted and that the passengers in the cars were going to have an awful bump, the engine whistle stabbed the air with short shrieks, there came a terrific grinding and squeaking of brakes and the train came to a stop, the couplings jarring, with the engine almost in front of Kid.

“What’s the matter, kid?”

A man with his body half out of the cab window and another standing where you climbed into the engine were both asking at once, and Kid, wondering how they knew his name, and feeling withal not a little important, pointed ahead toward the cut.

“There’s a lot of dirt on the rail up there,” he stammered, being very much out of breath and a little embarrassed, “and I thought maybe you wouldn’t see it in time to stop.”

The conductor, who had run up, seized Kid by the arm and swung him around. As Kid had not heard the approach of this formidable-looking man in blue uniform and brass buttons he was both surprised and confused.

“What are you up to?” demanded the conductor in terrifying tones.

“N-nothing, please, sir,” stammered Kid. “I――I didn’t know――――”

“He says there’s a slide in the cut, Tom,” interrupted the engineer. “Put him on and we’ll run ahead and have a look.”

“You come along with me.” The conductor seized Kid firmly by the arm and pulled him toward the car steps. “If you’ve stopped us for nothing, kid, you’ll get into trouble. Get in there.”

Kid climbed the steps into the arms of a grinning brakeman. The whistle spoke again and the train crawled forward. The brakeman was asking questions. Kid tried to explain but he was so busy watching for his jacket and ulster along the track that his explanations were fragmentary at best. The conductor, leaning from the car steps, was watching the track ahead. Now they were entering the cut, for the banks began to appear.

“I don’t see anything,” muttered the conductor.

“Sure, he was trying to have a joke on us,” said the brakeman. “Don’t you know any better than to do a thing like that?”

But at that moment the slowly moving train stopped so abruptly that the brakeman stumbled against the platform railing. The conductor leaped to the ground and the brakeman followed him. And then, as there was no one to stop him, Kid slid down, too, and followed the others. When he reached the head of the engine the engineer was looking grimly at the innocent pile of gravel.

“If we’d have struck that, Tom,” he said, with a laugh that somehow didn’t sound real, “we’d been in the ditch now. Get your shovel, Gus.”

Passengers joined the group, exclaiming, questioning. The fireman came back with his coal shovel and set to work. The crowd gathered about him and watched. Kid watched, too. It was all very interesting and exciting. It was the conductor who spied Kid and made a grab for him through the crowd. Kid saw him coming, though, and would have got away if he had not stumbled over the end of a tie and sprawled his length on the ground.

“Here’s the kid that signaled us,” announced the conductor, picking him up. “I guess if it hadn’t been for him we’d have been late getting in to-night. Much obliged, kid. What’s your name?”

“You’re welcome, sir. James Fairchild’s my name.”

“What? What?” a nervous, officious-looking little man with bushy side whiskers pushed his way through the group. “Did I hear you say this boy saved the train, Conductor?”

“That’s about what it amounts to, I guess.”

The bewhiskered man wrung Kid’s hand until it hurt. The throng――and it seemed now that the entire train of five cars had emptied itself of passengers――crowded closer, voicing admiration and gratitude. Kid, growing more embarrassed and uncomfortable every moment, strove to back away, but he was surrounded on all sides. Others began to shake his hand, and one very large, motherly looking lady actually kissed him, in spite of his struggles! The bewhiskered man was talking a steady stream of words in which the phrase “young hero” occurred at intervals. Kid didn’t follow his discourse very closely; for one thing, he couldn’t because folks kept crowding around and shaking his hand and asking questions, and for another thing he was much too uncomfortable. What he wanted was to rescue his ulster and jacket and get away. Evidently the bewhiskered one had ended in a real burst of eloquence, for something very like a cheer went up from the crowd. The speaker removed his derby hat and it began to circulate from one to another. There came the jingle of coins. It took Kid a minute to realize that a collection was being taken up, and when he did realize it he wanted to get away more than ever. He even muttered something about his coat and tried to squeeze through the throng, but there was always someone to shake him by the hand and tell him what a fine, brave boy he was. The black derby came into sight and disappeared again, jingling louder than before, and the voice of the man with the bushy whiskers still kept on.

“Give generously, good people! This is a time for practical gratitude! Let us show that we fully appreciate the heroic conduct of this brave lad!” And so on and on until Kid hated the bewhiskered one with a great hatred. Finally the hat came back for good just as the fireman finished clearing the rail and the conductor summoned them back to the cars. The bewhiskered man, the derby in one hand and a firm grip of Kid’s sweater in the other, hurried back to the nearest car. At the steps Kid made a stand.

“I――I’ve got to go back and get my things,” he declared.

“Eh? What things, my boy?”

“My jacket and ulster. I left them by the track back there.” Kid nodded toward the end of the cut. At that instant the whistle summoned the flagman in.

“Well, well, never mind,” said the man with the whiskers, forcibly propelling Kid up the car steps, “you’ll have money enough to get a new ulster. Look here!” He displayed a pile of coins and a few bills in the hollow of the hat. Kid glanced at them but still struggled.

“Please, sir, let me go! I must get them!”

“No, no, my boy, the train will start before you can get half way there. Come inside and we’ll count the collection.” Still protesting, Kid was conducted into the car. The man with the whiskers seated himself with his derby between his knees and other passengers again gathered. Someone donated a felt hat and the bewhiskered man began counting the money from the derby into the felt.

“Three――four――five――――”

The train started slowly.

“Six――seven――and two is nine――ten――――”

Kid squirmed from the seat and dashed for the door.

“Hey!” cried the bewhiskered man. But Kid was through the open door and on the platform, with the train still running slowly. He pulled his cap down onto his head and――

“Here, what you trying to do? Break your neck?” It was the brakeman, and he had a firm grasp on Kid’s arm.

“I want my ulster and my jacket!” cried Kid, struggling to get away. “I――I――Oh!”

The last ejaculation was filled with surprise and relief, for over the brakeman’s arm hung Kid’s garments.

“These them?” asked the brakeman. “I saw them by the track as I came in. Here you are.”

Kid accepted them with a sigh of gratitude and struggled into his jacket. Then he resignedly allowed himself to be conducted back to the car. Everybody seemed to take it for granted that he wanted to go to Mt. Pleasant and there was nothing to do now but accept his fate. He heard the conductor joking with a couple of men across the aisle about whether a boy who saved a train from the ditch was allowed to travel free. Meanwhile the bewhiskered man, who had lost his count when Kid dashed through the door and had been compelled to go over the donations a second time, announced the result.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, addressing the car at large, “I find that――ah――we have contributed exactly seventeen dollars and fifty cents to our――ah――preserver. I must own that I am a little disappointed in the amount. It seems to me that in view of the circumstances some of us might have given more liberally. Still, the spirit is shown and doubtless our young hero, to whom we are all so grateful, will find a commendable use for the reward. Still, if any of you care to increase your contributions, or if there are any who――ah――were overlooked, the purse is still open.”

No one, however, seemed impatient to take advantage of the invitation, although the bewhiskered man waited blandly for a moment.

“Very well, then. Young sir, in behalf of the passengers whose lives or limbs you have so heroically saved, I take pleasure in presenting to you this slight token of our appreciation and gratitude.” He made a bow and held the hat toward Kid. Kid backed away, shaking his head vehemently. “Oh, come now, we insist! Your modesty becomes you, my boy, but we shall feel much hurt if you refuse. Come now, come!”

“I’d rather not,” muttered Kid. “It――it wasn’t anything.”

But Kid’s reluctance accomplished nothing. The money was scooped from the hat and thrust into his pockets amidst laughter and he was slapped on the back many times, while one confirmed joker amused the passengers by suggesting ways of spending the reward. Houses, steam yachts and automobiles were among the things Kid was advised to invest his seventeen dollars in. And just then the train began to slow down, the brakeman called “Mt. Pleasant! Mt. Pleasant! Change for Riveredge, Greenwood, Tidaholm and all stations on the Mt. Pleasant Branch!” and in the subsequent confusion Kid wormed his way through the throng about the rear door of the car and was one of the first to alight as the train rolled into the station. Once on the platform he wasted no time; there was no knowing what that awful man with the whiskers might do next if he had the chance; and so Kid darted through the waiting room, out the opposite door and gained the street. There he breathed easier, but kept on going nevertheless, and before he realized it he was three blocks toward school! There was a little knife-scarred bench there where folks waited when they wanted the trolley car for Whittier and Kid seated himself on it and considered.

What was he to do now? Scarcely more than two hours ago he had set forth into the world to be a sailor, had said farewell to home and school, had, in short, virtually burned his bridges behind him! And now here he was back almost where he had started from! Gee, but it was a funny world!

Of course, now that his resources were increased to nearly nineteen dollars, it was the simplest thing possible to start over again. He could take a train at about five o’clock that would put him down in New York City at half past six. Then he could pay for lodgings――at a sailor’s boarding house, of course――and in the morning look for a berth. It was all simple and easy. In fact, it was too simple and easy. The glamour had gone from it. Anybody could run away and be a sailor with nineteen dollars in his pocket!

On the other hand, with his new wealth he could return to school with his head up, pay all his debts and still be a person of affluence. It would be rather good fun, too. When the fellows came demanding their quarters returned he could smile carelessly and pull a whole handful of silver from his pocket and pay them. Still, it would be distinctly unsatisfactory to be a man of means and have to keep “in bounds” for a month or six weeks. And the Doctor might think of some even more horrible method of punishment, too! And if he had to donate ten dollars of the eighteen-sixty-two to the trophy fund and pay back all the fellows who had invested in Tinkham’s Throat-Ease, why, he wouldn’t be so rich after all. Whereas, if he didn’t go back he would not only escape punishment but retain his wealth. It was a good deal of a problem.

And perhaps he would have sat there a good deal longer without arriving at any decision if, at what was a psychological moment, there had not stolen out to him from the little white-clapboarded, green-shuttered house behind him an appealing odor of cooking. Kid sat up and sniffed. It smelled like stew, probably lamb stew; lamb stew with onions and carrots and turnips and potatoes all cut up in it and smothered in a rich, thick white gravy! Kid’s stomach decided the matter for him. Kid got up from that bench and, with feet and legs that were very sore and tired, tramped back to school.

On the way he prepared his explanation. He need say nothing about running away. If anyone asked him he need only explain that he had grown tired of staying in bed and had gone for a walk. He would be scolded, probably, but scoldings didn’t hurt. Besides, he had only to thrust a hand into any one of three pockets to feel the comforting assurance of wealth. But when he walked up the drive from the gate to the front door, doing it as unostentatiously as possible and assuming the languid, careless air of an invalid out for exercise, he was both surprised and relieved to find no one in sight. A moment’s reflection told him that, as it was still short of four o’clock, all the fellows were in the schoolrooms. Why, he might even reach his own room without anyone being the wiser!

He opened the big front door very cautiously, very quietly, and stepped inside. The hall was empty and not a sound reached him save the ticking of the big clock on the landing of the stairs. He grinned and moved noiselessly toward the clock, past it and to his room. With the door closed behind him he chuckled. Then he looked around him curiously. Not a thing was changed! Of course he knew that he had been away less than three hours, but it seemed more like a week to him! A great deal had happened in those three hours! He emptied his pockets of the money――it almost filled the collar-box!――removed the few trinkets he had started away with and then, undressing quickly, got back to bed. Half an hour later, when Stanley opened the door cautiously, Kid was fast asleep.

XV

LANNY TRIES HIGH FINANCE

When Kid awoke it was to the feeling that he was not alone. But a sleepy glance around the room failed to discover anyone and it was only when his eyes reached the door and he saw the portal slowly closing that he was certain his senses had not deceived him. He sat up and said, “Hi, there!” and the door reopened, revealing Mrs. Merton and Nan.

“I’m afraid we woke you, James,” said the Doctor’s wife. “I’m so sorry!”

“I guess I’ve slept enough, ma’am,” said Kid.

“Nan wanted to pay you a visit and I thought I’d just look in myself and see that you were all right. You are better, aren’t you, much better? You have a very good color now. Perhaps you’ll be hungry enough to eat some supper after a while.”

“Yes’m, I’m awfully hungry now. Is it almost supper time?”

“Not for an hour. What would you like? Was the chicken broth good?”

“Yes’m, but I think I’d rather have some meat and potatoes and a cup of cocoa and some toast and preserves and a piece of cake.” Kid paused. Then, “or two,” he added.

Mrs. Merton smiled. “I’m afraid you can’t have all those things,” she replied, “but perhaps a chop and a baked potato――just a small one――won’t hurt you if you’re so hungry. And you seem to be!”

“Yes’m, I guess it was the walk――――” Kid almost bit his tongue trying to stop.

“Walk?” echoed Mrs. Merton with a laugh. “I guess you’ve been dreaming, James.”

“Yes’m, I think I have,” responded Kid with gusto. “I――I dreamed I was walking on the railroad and a train came along――” But he stopped again. Maybe he had better not overdo it. “And――and that’s all I remember,” he added.

Mrs. Merton and Nan laughed.

“Well, I’ll see that your supper is hearty enough to satisfy that hunger, James. Shall I leave Nan here a few minutes? Or would you rather sleep again?”

“No’m, I’d like her to stay, please.”

So Mrs. Merton departed and Nan drew a chair to the side of the bed. “You are better, aren’t you, Kid?” she asked anxiously.

Kid nodded. “I’m all right,” he assured her. “I could eat the roof off the house, I’m so hungry.”

“That’s nice! I wanted to come and see you before, but mama thought I’d better wait until now. Did you like the book I sent?”

“I――I haven’t read much of it yet,” replied Kid. “You see, I slept a good deal.”

Nan nodded. “You will like it when you do read it,” she said. “You’ll be perfectly crazy about it! How far have you got?”

“Not very far,” answered Kid, avoiding her eyes. “Say, Nan, want to do me a favor?”

“Of course!”

“Then you sneak downstairs and look in the Encyclopedia Britannica and get a story-paper I left in it, will you? It’s called ‘Hairbreadth Harry, the Gentleman Scout,’ and if anyone finds it I’ll get thunder. Will you? I think it’s in the fifth volume, but you try them all. If you want to, I’ll let you read it when I’m through.”

Nan’s nose went up in disdain. “One of those horrid detective stories,” she said. “Thank you, but I don’t care for such literature, Kid!”

“Detective story nothing! It’s an Indian story; I should think you could tell that by the name! And, anyhow, it’s a heap more interesting than a story all filled with girls and dolls and――and Christmas presents!”

“For those that like it,” replied Nan in a superior manner. “You know you’re not allowed to have dime novels, Kid, and papa said――――”

“It isn’t a dime novel; it’s a half-dime novel, Miss Smarty!”

“Well, if you get caught reading it――――”

“I’ll tell them you lent it to me,” declared Kid with a wicked grin. “So you’d better go down and get it for me.”

“If I do you must promise that you won’t read any more of them in school, Kid.” Nan was very earnest, and Kid reflected a moment. After all, he could afford to make the promise for it would soon be warm enough to read outdoors, and that wouldn’t be reading “in school.” So he said, “All right,” and Nan stole downstairs for “Hairbreadth Harry.” Kid crawled out of bed then and found the note he had written to Stanley. His first impulse was to save it, for it had cost him much effort and it was barely possible that he might decide to carry out his running away project later. But a hasty perusal of it showed him that the note wouldn’t answer at all for another occasion and so he tore it into little pieces and dropped them behind the radiator where they wouldn’t be found for a very long time. Then he scuttled back into bed just in time, for Nan knocked a second later and entered empty-handed.

“I couldn’t get it,” she announced. “There are lots of boys down there and as soon as I took one of the books out Steve Lovell came over and wanted to know what I was looking up, and I couldn’t think of anything and so I said ‘Nothing, thanks,’ and came away. I’m sorry, Kid.”

Kid nodded. “All right. I guess I can get it in the morning.”

Nan sat down again and in doing so kicked one of Kid’s shoes which he had placed under the bed. Being an orderly young lady, Nan reached down to put the shoe in its place again. Then there was an exclamation of surprise, and she was holding one wet shoe up and staring at it bewilderedly.

“Why, Kid, look at your shoe!” she cried.

Kid looked. “Wh-what’s the matter with it?” he asked innocently.

“Why, it’s soaking wet, just _soaking_! And inside, too! Kid, you _have_ been out!”

“Out! Me?” Kid laughed disdainfully.

“Then how did your shoes get wet?”

Kid thought hard. “I suppose,” he observed, “that I wore them in my dream. I remember it was very sloppy on the railroad track――――”

“The idea! You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?”

“Why not?” asked Kid stoutly. “I did dream that I was walk――――”

“You’ve been outdoors, Kid, and you know it; and I know it too, and so there’s no use fibbing about it. You might have caught your death, and I’ve a good mind to tell mama――――”

“I don’t see any use in making such a fuss about it,” he protested. “A fellow can’t stay cooped up here all day when there’s nothing the matter with him; he needs fresh air; every doctor says you need fresh air!”

“Every doctor doesn’t say you need wet feet,” replied Nan severely. “Where did you go?”

“Who go?”

“You.”

“Me? Where’d I go? Oh, just――just around.” Kid waved an arm vaguely toward the north and east. “Just for a walk. Perhaps――perhaps you’d better put them over by the radiator.”

“And have everyone see that they’re wet! Very well, if you want to get into trouble I will.”