CHAPTER XX.

Burns Norton, Jack's father, was of Irish descent, and had been born and raised in the south. His father, who had been a prominent cotton broker before the war, had amassed a fortune that consisted principally of stocks and bonds, with occasional bits of land scattered throughout various southern states, that had been acquired by him through deals of such magnitude that frequently the land was absorbed and reverted to him in lieu of cash that he had advanced to his clients.

The war was the cause of the loss of the fortune thus acquired, and the elder Norton, Jack's grandfather, had died soon after its close a poor man, having turned over to those who had tried to help him survive these strenuous times all the property, real and personal, that he possessed. Among the tracts of land thus acquired was one which consisted of several hundred acres situated in what was known as the Panhandle, in Texas, then arid and considered worthless except for range purposes.

When he had turned the deed to this over to his creditors, the board of appraisers handed it back with the remark: "That is too far away. It is valueless and we will not take it into consideration," and then added: "Put it away for your boy; it may be worth something by the time he is a man."

Burns Norton was just past fifteen when his father joined his mother, who had never recovered from the shock sustained when their fortune was lost, and with this tract of barren waste land, covered with curly mosquito grass, as his only property inheritance, he was set adrift in the world.

He accompanied a party of human derelicts, who drifted hither and thither during the reconstruction days following the close of the war, and finally landed in Texas, where he worked on a stock ranch, and rode the old Santa Fe Trail from Quanah, Texas, to Topeka, Kansas, for years. As time passed, and the Fort Worth & Denver Railroad was being constructed, it passed through this land of Norton's. He had never mentioned the fact that he owned the land to any one, and it had been fenced as a part of an immense pasture, and when he went to the owners of this pasture and demanded that his land be thrown outside by the removal of their fence, they questioned his right to the land. Young Norton had no difficulty in proving his ownership, and went immediately to work improving it, and from this start sprung the immense wealth he now controlled. It was this experience that had prompted his investment in the land he had come to inspect at the time he discovered his lost son Jack, living over the life that he had led when he was Jack's age, and he understood where the adventurous disposition had originated, and he did not blame the boy. In fact, he had never blamed Jack for anything. He had been an indulgent father, and even now he was gratified by the boy's spirit, and although he felt that he had been badly treated he did not reproach him.

Mrs. Gully came to the door and called to her husband that dinner was ready, and he invited his guests to come in. Mr. Palmer and Dugan, who felt more at home than the rest, answered the summons promptly, and as they were passing the well they noticed a barrel of fresh cold water which stood temptingly near, and jokingly called to Mrs. Gully that if she would provide them with a towel they thought they would enjoy washing outside as they had done on their former visit.

Ida brought them towels and tin basins, and the entire party prepared themselves for their dinner at the well while Gully explained the workings of his pumping plant.

Jack and his father were the last to come to the well, and as Mr. Norton splashed his face with an abundance of cold water he laughingly told Jack that he did not blame him for being so enthusiastic about the country if that was a fair sample of their water, "for," declared he, "although it seems to have been sitting here for quite a while, it is still sparkling and cool."

Jack assured him that he had never seen or heard of a bad well of water in the country. Going into the house, they were seated at their dinners, while Mrs. Gully and Ida served. It was a revelation to these tired business men, this good wholesome food, that had been brought fresh from the soil and cool pantry and served in the simplest homelike manner, and they did justice to Mrs. Gully's and her daughter's culinary art by eating most heartily.

After the meal was finished, Mr. Norton called to Jack and told him to look in the front of the car in which he had come and bring him the small satchel that bore his name on the tag. Jack secured the satchel, and upon his return and handing it to his father, the latter took from it a box of cigars, and after passing them around said that if the ladies had no objections, they would visit a while, and postpone their trip to the land. "You see," he continued, "with the discovery of this young rascal," with a fond look at Jack, "there has been a great burden relieved from my mind, and I want to enjoy it in my own way, for there is no dependence to be put in his next move."

Mrs. Gully replied that she would be pleased to have Mr. Norton feel enough at home to choose his own method of celebrating the restoration of his son, but she did feel that she must protest the remarks about Jack, for they had always found him a most dependable young man.

The old gentleman smiled at her defense of Jack, while that young worthy arose from his seat, and with mock gravity thanked her for her effort in his behalf, and turning to his father, quoted:

"I stand at the bar of justice, Condemned in the cause that you plead; My only defense the simple request That you judge by the motive, not deed."

Mr. Norton, now in the best of spirits, turned to those present and asked: "Shall we listen to his plea?" A chorus of voices exclaimed: "Go ahead; let's have the story."

It was a trying moment for Jack Norton. He had not expected events to take this turn, but he saw that his father expected an explanation of his conduct, and there was no alternative. It must be made in the presence of those who had assembled at the home of his dearest friends, the Gullys, and he knew that in view of the relations that existed between him and the family, an explanation was due.

Withdrawing his chair from the table, he placed it conveniently near for Mrs. Gully to be seated by her husband, and securing a seat for Ida, he stood directly facing her and began the recital of his story.

"I do not know," he began, "that it was Dad's original intention that I should inflict upon you innocent persons present a recital of my boyish prank that has resulted in this self imposed exile for the past four years, and I wish to impress on your minds before I enter into details that I am not making a plea for sympathy or setting up a plea of extenuating circumstances.

"For the suffering that I have caused him I am sorry, and I too have suffered. No one will ever know the hours of torturing remorse and regret through which I have passed. My own sufferings I have borne, I hope, with fortitude, as will no doubt be attested to by my very dear friends, the Gully family, who have never heard me mention in the slightest way my affairs, and who have been most considerate of my feelings in not asking, as they had a perfect right to do, for any information relative to myself or family, and for this evidence of their faith in me I wish to thank them most heartily.

"With the circumstances attending my leaving him, Dad is thoroughly familiar. I had just returned from the Agricultural and Mechanical College of which my home state, Texas, is justly proud, and had joined him in Galveston, where he had moved his family to reside permanently after his retirement from the land and stock business, and at which place my poor mother lost her life at the time of the disastrous tidal wave which almost destroyed the city.

"Dad, at the time of the terrible occurrence, had gone on a short trip to the northern part of the state to look after business interests, as he frequently did. Why I escaped and was not taken with my mother I never could understand, but by some caprice I was saved and cared for as an 'unknown' until Dad returned, which he did as quickly as he could.

"After a search which lasted for days I was finally located by Dad, who has always been a most kind and indulgent father. Upon this occasion of my return from college, the event being my twenty-first birthday, I found him in a most generous mood, ready to grant my every wish. He took me to his office, he having resumed business activities after the loss of my mother, and led me through the various departments and told me that he was anxious to take me in with him and have me become familiar with his affairs, that I might succeed him, as he was growing old.

"I thanked him for this generous offer, but being imbued with the idea that I was a thorough yachtsman, I changed the subject and began teasing him to let me take his yacht, the 'Magnolia,' for a few days' cruise with some half dozen of my boy friends.

"The 'Magnolia' was a handsome craft, thoroughly equipped and furnished to accommodate ten or a dozen passengers, and as her crew usually consisted of three men, I had planned to take her out alone, with my friends as helpers, making two watches, there being six of us, and we would cruise to the coast of Mexico and return in about ten days.

"The yacht was Dad's special pride and his only recreation, and he had bought and fitted her up at a very great expense. He had interests at various points along the coast and in Cuba, and this was his means of combining pleasure and business, by visiting these interests twice a year. I had accompanied him on all these trips, as he arranged to make them during my vacation from school or college, and I felt that I was capable of taking her out and returning her to her slip on the strand in perfect safety.

"But Dad did not think so and told me I had better wait and accompany him later, at which time he would be pleased to entertain my friends on the cruise. This did not suit me, and right here I blame Dad for not being more firm with me. At any rate, he finally consented to let me have the yacht, but I was to take her regular crew to man her. This I agreed to do, but did so reluctantly.

"Dad gave me an order to the watchman on board to have her provisioned for a ten days' trip, and to be made ready for sailing the following Monday, at which time she was to be turned over to me. Thanking him, I hurried to the slip and gave the watchman Dad's orders. He took it, and after reading saluted, and with the familiar 'Aye, Aye, Sir,' sounding in my ears, I left him.

"It was then Thursday, and I had ample time to look up the members of my party and acquaint them with the success of my appeal to Dad. There was one among those who accompanied me on this memorable trip with whom I hope I may never come in contact. When I told him of the conditions under which Dad had given me permission to use the yacht, he laughed and said: That's easy; just forget to call her crew, and we'll take her out alone,' and I, feeling my newly attained manhood, answered: 'I'll attend to that; just you be ready at the appointed time,' and left him. But the seed had been sown that finally grew and produced the bitterest fruit I or any other misguided lad could ever taste.

"I never mentioned the fact to the rest of the boys that we were supposed to have others than ourselves aboard, as I knew there were those among them who would have refused to accompany me unless Dad's requirements were complied with.

"Well, to make a long story short, I did not call the crew, and as Dad was called away to St. Louis the Saturday before we were to sail he never knew of my failure to do so until after it was too late. I went with him to the station as he was leaving, and he took my hand and wished me a pleasant voyage, and handing me a generous check, he added: 'I shall expect you here on my return; be careful, Jack. Goodbye,' and that was the last time I saw or heard from him until a few hours ago.

"We left the following Monday morning, and I will never forget the feeling of importance I experienced as the yacht drew out from her slip at the end of a hawser and was towed out into the bay by a noisy little steam tug which I had employed for the purpose. I knew that I was disobeying Dad, but felt perfectly sure of myself, and I had those among my party who were well experienced in sailing; besides, Dad was gone and would not return until we had completed our cruise. Then I would tell him of what I had done, how successfully I had managed the 'Magnolia' and he would feel proud of me.

"When we were well out into the bay they let go the hawser and the little craft began to ride the swells. It was but a moment's work to run up a bit of canvas that soon picked up the breeze, and rounding to, we headed for Boliver Point Light, that marked the outlet to the Gulf, and as we entered the channel through which the huge ocean going vessels gained entrance to the bay, we navigated our craft successfully, and passed several of these, besides numerous tugs, lighters and revenue cutters, and this fact but convinced us more thoroughly of our ability as seamen.

"I had not taken the helm yet, but at the request of one of my guests whom I knew to be an experienced yachtsman, had allowed him to see us safely through the narrows that lay between Boliver Point and the Jetties. After clearing the channel and entering the gulf proper I relieved my friend, and taking the helm, steered directly south, a course that almost paralleled the Galveston Island, but as the miles increased the distance from the southern end of the island became so great that we were almost in the path of the South American liners.

"We were having a splendid time, and as the breeze was favorable, we decided to put into a little coast town whose buildings could be plainly seen glistening in the bright sunlight far ahead on the main land. We made this port, and after going ashore for a few hours, decided to follow the coast, laying close in, and to put into the next village, Port Lavaca, where we would tie up for the night.

"I will not undertake to describe our trip, with its many stops and things of interest that we came in contact with at these quaint little settlements, half Mexican and half American, that lined the Gulf shore.

"Passing over the next two days of our cruise, we arrived at Matagorda Bay, and being desirous of visiting the point at the extreme inner end of the bay, where the little village of Indianola had been almost completely destroyed by the great tidal wave, we put in at the entrance and spent the night at the town of Matagorda, intending to visit the scene of the devastated village the following day.

"In this we were disappointed, for during the night a terrific gulf storm came up, and it became so severe before morning that we were compelled to abandon our berths aboard the yacht and go ashore. The next two days brought no signs of an abatement of the storm, and we were advised not to venture out until a more favorable time. Two days in this little fishing village caused us to lose interest in its novelty, and to a very great degree cooled our ardor and inclination to continue the trip.

"The third day was very much better, and we decided to abandon our trip and return home, and as the force of the storm decreased in its severity, we started immediately after noon, intending to round the point of Matagorda Peninsula before night and put into the first harbor we could make on the leeward side.

"We experienced no difficulty in getting well under way in the Bay, although the wind was against us, and by beating up first the inland shore and by tacking back and forth, we reached the point just at dusk, but we found the gale was almost as severe as it had been the day before, and we dared not venture too far seaward. As darkness came on we undertook to round the point to gain the leeward shore of the peninsula and thus be protected from the force of the wind.

"I was at the helm and had given instructions to my companions, who were all alert to help, to haul down most of the canvas before we attempted to make the point. They were busily engaged at this when we glided out to where we caught the full force of the gale, and it required all of my time and strength to hold her off the point. It was now quite dark and it was impossible to distinguish the land. The light off the point was plainly seen, but it lay so far out, to mark the course of large vessels, I dared not attempt to round it, but must make the space between it and land, which I knew was ample, but I misjudged the distance and in a few moments we were hard aground on the shoals and were in a fair way of pounding to pieces.

"Work as we would, she was immovable, except to plow further into the slimy mud, gravel and oyster shells of which the shoals consisted. We stripped her of every thread of canvas after trying to right her, thinking by so doing she would hold together for the night, but it was no use. We saw that she was doomed and prepared to leave her to her fate.

"We could hear the surf breaking off to port, and knew that we could reach land easily, so when she finally rolled over on her side and her hatches went awash, we gathered what we could of our effects and went overboard. I do not know how my companions fared after they entered the water. I had no difficulty in reaching land, for after being hurled shoreward by the waves a few times, I found that I was not beyond my depth, and after being knocked down and almost strangled as the breakers came in, I scrambled ahead and finally found myself beyond their reach.

"My first thoughts were for the safety of my companions, and I called to see if I could locate them. The sound of my voice was drowned by the roar of the surf, but in a few minutes I heard a voice calling very near me, and it proved to be one of the boys. It was no time for congratulating each other on our escape, so we set to work to try and locate the rest of the party. One by one we heard them answer our shouts, and as each came in they aided in the search, until the last was found. None seemed any the worse for their experience, and as we were wet and chilled, with no means of providing a fire, we did not know what to do, so we decided to move a little way back, and by keeping in motion dry our clothes as best we could, and at any rate keep warm.

"We agreed to remain until morning and see what condition the Magnolia was in before we undertook to work our way back along the peninsula to the mainland. As the night advanced, I could hear the groaning of the timber in our disabled craft as it was subjected to the strain of the storm, and I thought of what I had done, and of poor old Dad, and I knew that the loss of the yacht would not hurt him as badly as my actions. I called my best boyhood friend, who had come as one of the party, off to one side and told him of my trouble, of how I had disregarded Dad's wishes, and confided to him that if the Magnolia proved to be a total loss in the morning, I would not return to Dad, and gave him a message to deliver to him saying that I would not return or write until, by my own efforts, I could replace the yacht.

"My friends tried to persuade me to give up the idea, as such action would but add to Dad's trouble. But I was obdurate, and lest I be persuaded to abandon my purpose, I left them a few hours after our conversation without waiting to see the result of the wreck that had been caused by my folly.

"After leaving my friends I followed the ridge of the peninsula back to the mainland and continued to walk until about noon the next day, when I was forced to seek rest, as I was completely exhausted. When I reached a little village, I purchased a flannel shirt and overalls, and my identity was lost. With the funds I had in my possession and the check Dad had given me, I managed to work my way out here, and you know the rest."

Jack Norton had not been interrupted during the time he was telling his story. His hearers sat deeply interested, but when he reached the end of his narrative it brought them back to their surroundings. After a moment's silence, Jack's father, who had been seated with his chair tilted back, came down with a crash, and seizing Jack by the hand exclaimed:

"Why, Jack, the 'Magnolia' was not hurt. Your friends brought her into port a few days later and she is now as good as ever."

Young Norton was dumfounded. "How did they do it?" he asked.

"By the aid of some fishermen and a small tug who sighted them in distress the following morning. She had only keeled over in the mud, and as there were no rocks upon which to pound she hung together and they soon had her righted and under sail. So you see, my boy, you have had all this suffering for nothing," explained his father.

"No, not altogether for nothing, for I have learned a very great lesson; not to jump at conclusions and to abide by an agreement; and besides," he said, smiling, "I have acquired a home of my own and," stepping over to Ida's side and taking her by the hand, assisted her to arise, "Miss Gully has done me the honor to promise to share this home with me, which more than repays me for my sufferings. I ask but one other favor in this world, and that is your forgiveness and blessings, Dad."

It was now Jack's father's turn to be taken by surprise, but he was too old a diplomat to be caught off his guard, and he wanted to know more of the step his son was contemplating before giving it his approval, so he bowed politely to Ida and answered: "As for my forgiveness, son, you have it, but it would be strange if I should go out into the world to look for a lost son and should return with both a son and daughter." But he did not commit himself.

The rest of the party who had heard Jack's story and its happy ending came forward to congratulate he and Ida, and express their hopes for their future.

Travis Gully and his wife, who had not yet been able to fully understand the situation, were happy because the outcome had seemed to please Jack, and they knew that after the strangers had gone he would tell them all about it in a way they could understand.

Mr. Norton arose from the table and asked Gully if he could find accommodations for the driver of his car, as he would like to spend the night with his son in his home alone. Mr. Palmer, he said, could take the other car and the rest of the party and return to the village and await his coming.

Gully said that he thought there would be no difficulty in providing for him, and so it was arranged. Mr. Palmer and Dugan, with the three remaining members of the party, who proved to be some friends of Mr. Norton's who had accompanied him on this trip with the view to investing in land, were to return to the village and await Mr. Norton's coming.

After thanking Travis Gully and his wife for their hospitality, they shook hands with them and the young people, and with promises to see them again in a few days, left for the village.

Soon after their departure, Mr. Norton expressed a desire to visit Jack's homestead.

"All right, Dad," exclaimed Jack, "we will run over there, and I will return later and get my horse and buggy."

"I'll take care of them; you go with your father," said Gully.

Jack thanked him and he and his father drove off together. Just as they were turning from the road that led to the school house Jack noticed that Miss Anderson had just dismissed school, and asked his father's permission to take her and the Gully children home in the car, to which his father consented. Turning back into the road, they soon met them, and as the car was turned around to pick them up, Jack called to Miss Anderson and invited her and the children to ride; when she smilingly approached the car and before she could express her thanks, Jack introduced his father. Miss Anderson stopped short, and her bewildered look amused Jack, who had stepped out to assist her and the children to enter the car.

"Don't ask any questions now," said he, laughing.

"But," she began, "I do not understand."

"Of course not, but Ida will tell you all about it when you get home," answered Jack.

As Miss Anderson entered the car and took the seat beside him, Mr. Norton remarked:

"This has indeed been a remarkable day, Miss Anderson; a day of wonders."

The children were assisted into the car, and Jack, with Joe upon his knee, sat with the driver.

After they had been taken to the Gully home, and the children scrambled out, all excitement over their first auto ride. Miss Anderson, after being assisted from the car, thanked Mr. Norton and expressed the hope that she would be in a better position on the morrow to discuss with him the important events that had occurred. "For you know," said she, "I am still in the dark."