won't run after him;" then his kind heart got the better of his bad
humor, and catching up the bag he raced down the road at his best pace,
eager to heap coals of fire on Sid's proud head,--to say nothing of his
own desire to see more of the riders.
"They will have to go slowly up the long hill, and I'll catch them
then," he thought as he tore over the ground, for he was a good runner
and prided himself on his strong legs.
Unfortunately for his amiable intentions, the boys had taken a short cut
to avoid the hill, and were out of sight down a lane where Hugh never
dreamed they would dare to go, so mounted.
"Well, they have done well to get over the hill at this rate. Guess they
won't keep it up long," panted Hugh, stopping short when he saw no
signs of the riders.
The road stretched invitingly before him, the race had restored his
spirits, and curiosity to see what had become of his friends lured him
to the hill-top, where temptation sat waiting for him. Up he trudged,
finding the fresh air, the sunny sky, the path strewn with red and
yellow leaves, and the sense of freedom so pleasant that when he reached
the highest point and saw the world all before him, as it were, a daring
project seemed to flash upon him, nearly taking his breath away with its
manifold delights.
"Sid said, 'Walk,' and why not?--at least to Lawton, and take the cars
from there, as Bemis means to do. Wouldn't the old fellows be surprised
to see me turn up at the rink? It's quarter past eight now, and the fun
begins at three; I could get there easy enough, and by Jupiter, I will!
Got lunch all here, and money enough to pay this car-fare, I guess. If I
haven't, I'll go a little further and take a horse-car. What a lark!
here goes,"--and with a whoop of boyish delight at breaking bounds, away
went Hugh down the long hill, like a colt escaped from its pasture.
The others were just ahead, but the windings of the road hid them from
him; so all went on, unconscious of each other's proximity. Hugh's run
gave him a good start, and he got over the ground famously for five or
six miles; then he went more slowly, thinking he had plenty of time to
catch a certain train. But he had no watch, and when he reached Lawton
he had the pleasure of seeing the cars go out at one end of the station
as he hurried in at the other.
"I won't give it up, but just go on and do it afoot. That will be
something to brag of when the other chaps tell big stories. I'll see how
fast I can go, for I'm not tired, and can eat on the way. Much obliged
to Sid for a nice lunch."
And chuckling over this piece of good luck, Hugh set out again, only
pausing for a good drink at the town-pump. The thirteen miles did not
seem very long when he thought of them, but as he walked them they
appeared to grow longer and longer, till he felt as if he must have
travelled about fifty. He was in good practice, and fortunately had on
easy shoes; but he was in such a hurry to make good time that he allowed
himself no rest, and jogged on, up hill and down, with the resolute air
of one walking for a wager. There we will leave him, and see what had
befallen Sid; for his adventures were more exciting than Hugh's, though
all seemed plain sailing when he started.
At Lawton he had parted from his friend and gone on alone, having laid
in a store of gingerbread from a baker's cart, and paused to eat, drink,
and rest by a wayside brook. A few miles further he passed a party of
girls playing lawn tennis, and as he slowly rolled along regarding them
from his lofty perch, one suddenly exclaimed:--
"Why, it's our neighbor, Sidney West! How did _he_ come here?" and
waving her racquet, Alice ran across the lawn to find out.
Very willing to stop and display his new uniform, which was extremely
becoming, Sid dismounted, doffed his helmet, and smiled upon the
damsels, leaning over the hedge like a knight of old.
"Come in and play a game, and have some lunch. You will have plenty of
time, and some of us are going to the rink by and by. Do, we want a boy
to help us, for Maurice is too lazy, and Jack has hurt his hand with
that stupid base ball," said Alice, beckoning persuasively, while the
other girls nodded and smiled hopefully.
Thus allured, the youthful Ulysses hearkened to the voice of the little
Circe in a round hat, and entered the enchanted grove, to forget the
passage of time as he disported himself among the nymphs. He was not
changed to a beast, as in the immortal story, though the three young
gentlemen did lie about the lawn in somewhat grovelling attitudes; and
Alice waved her racquet as if it were a wand, while her friends handed
glasses of lemonade to the recumbent heroes during pauses in the game.
While thus blissfully engaged, time slipped away, and Hugh passed him in
the race, quite unconscious that his brother was reposing in the tent
that looked so inviting as the dusty, tired boy plodded by, counting
every mile-stone with increasing satisfaction.
"If I get to Uncle Tim's by one o'clock, I shall have done very well.
Four miles an hour is a fair pace, and only one stop. I'll telegraph to
auntie as soon as I arrive; but she won't worry, she's used to having us
turn up all right when we get ready," thought Hugh, grateful that no
over-anxious mamma was fretting about his long absence. The boys had no
mother, and Aunt Ruth was an easy old lady who let them do as they
liked, to their great contentment.
As he neared his journey's end our traveller's spirits rose, and the
blisters on his heels were forgotten in the dramatic scene his fancy
painted, when Sid should discover him at Uncle Tim's, or calmly seated
at the rink. Whistling gayly, he was passing through a wooded bit of
road when the sound of voices made him look back to see a carriage full
of girls approaching, escorted by a bicycle rider, whose long blue legs
looked strangely familiar.
Anxious to keep his secret till the last moment, also conscious that he
was not in company trim, Hugh dived into the wood, out of sight, while
the gay party went by, returning to the road as soon as they were hidden
by a bend.
"If Sid hadn't been so mean, I should have been with him, and had some
of the fun. I don't feel like forgiving him in a hurry for making me
foot it, like a tramp, while he is having such a splendid time."
If Hugh could have known what was to happen very soon after he had
muttered these words to himself, as he wiped his hot face, and took the
last sip of the coffee to quench his thirst, he would have been sorry he
uttered them, and have forgiven his brother everything.
While he was slowly toiling up the last long hill, Sid was coasting down
on the other side, eager to display his courage and skill before the
girls,--being of an age when boys begin to wish to please and astonish
the gentler creatures whom they have hitherto treated with indifference
or contempt. It was a foolish thing to do, for the road was rough, with
steep banks on either side, and a sharp turn at the end; but Sid rolled
gayly along, with an occasional bump, till a snake ran across the road,
making the horse shy, the girls scream, the rider turn to see what was
the matter, and in doing so lose his balance just when a large stone
needed to be avoided. Over went Sid, down rattled the wheel, up rose a
cloud of dust, and sudden silence fell upon the girls at sight of this
disaster. They expected their gallant escort would spring up and laugh
over his accident; but when he remained flat upon his back, where he had
alighted after a somersault, with the bicycle spread over him like a
pall, they were alarmed, and flew to the rescue.
A cut on the forehead was bleeding, and the blow had evidently stunned
him for a moment. Luckily, a house was near, and a man seeing the
accident hastened to offer more efficient help than any the girls had
wit enough to give in the first flurry, as all four only flapped wildly
at Sid with their handkerchiefs, and exclaimed excitedly,--
"What shall we do? Is he dead? Run for water. Call somebody, quick."
"Don't be scat, gals; it takes a sight of thumpin' to break a boy's
head. He ain't hurt much; kinder dazed for a minute. I'll hist up this
pesky mashine and set him on his legs, if he hain't damaged 'em."
With these cheering words, the farmer cleared away the ruins, and
propped the fallen rider against a tree; which treatment had such a
good effect that Sid was himself in a moment, and much disgusted to find
what a scrape he was in.
"This is nothing, a mere bump; quite right, thanks. Let us go on at
once; so sorry to alarm you, ladies." He began his polite speech
bravely, but ended with a feeble smile and a clutch at the tree,
suddenly turning sick and dizzy again.
"You come along a me. I'll tinker you and your whirligig up, young man.
No use sayin' go ahead, for the thing is broke, and you want to keep
quiet for a spell. Drive along, gals, I'll see to him; and my old woman
can nuss him better 'n a dozen flutterin' young things scat half to
death."
Taking matters into his own hands, the farmer had boy and bicycle under
his roof in five minutes; and with vain offers of help, many regrets,
and promises to let his Uncle Tim know where he was, in case he did not
arrive, the girls reluctantly drove away, leaving no sign of the
catastrophe except the trampled road, and a dead snake.
Peace was hardly restored when Hugh came down the hill, little dreaming
what had happened, and for the second time passed his brother, who just
then was lying on a sofa in the farm-house, while a kind old woman
adorned his brow with a large black plaster, suggesting brown paper
steeped in vinegar, for the various bruises on his arms and legs.
"Some one killed the snake and made a great fuss about it, I should
say," thought Hugh, observing the signs of disorder in the dust; but,
resisting a boy's interest in such affairs, he stoutly tramped on,
sniffing the whiffs of sea air that now and then saluted his nose,
telling him that he was nearing his much-desired goal.
Presently the spires of the city came in sight, to his great
satisfaction, and only the long bridge and a street or two lay between
him and Uncle Tim's easy chair, into which he soon hoped to cast
himself.
Half-way across the bridge a farm-wagon passed, with a bicycle laid
carefully on the barrels of vegetables going to market. Hugh gazed
affectionately at it, longing to borrow it for one brief, delicious spin
to the bridge end. Had he known that it was Sid's broken wheel, going to
be repaired without loss of time, thanks to the good farmer's trip to
town, he would have paused to have a hearty laugh, in spite of his vow
not to stop till his journey was over.
Just as Hugh turned into the side street where Uncle Tim lived, a
horse-car went by, in one corner of which sat a pale youth, with a
battered hat drawn low over his eyes, who handed out his ticket with the
left hand, and frowned when the car jolted, as if the jar hurt him. Had
he looked out of the window, he would have seen a very dusty boy, with a
pouch over his shoulder, walking smartly down the street where his
relation lived. But Sid carefully turned his head aside, fearing to be
recognized; for he was on his way to a certain club to which Bemis
belonged, preferring his sympathy and hospitality to the humiliation of
having his mishap told at home by Uncle Tim, who would be sure to take
Hugh's part, and exult over the downfall of the proud. Well for him that
he avoided that comfortable mansion; for on the door-steps stood Hugh,
beaming with satisfaction as the clock struck one, proclaiming that he
had done his twenty miles in a little less than five hours.
"Not bad for a 'little chap,' even though he is 'a donkey,'" chuckled
the boy, dusting his shoes, wiping his red face, and touching himself up
as well as he could, in order to present as fresh and unwearied an
aspect as possible, when he burst upon his astonished brother's sight.
In he marched when the door opened, to find his uncle and two rosy
cousins just sitting down to dinner. Always glad to see the lads, they
gave him a cordial welcome, and asked for his brother.
"Hasn't he come yet?" cried Hugh, surprised, yet glad to be the first on
the field.
Nothing had been seen of him, and Hugh at once told his tale, to the
great delight of his jolly uncle, and the admiring wonder of Meg and
May, the rosy young cousins. They all enjoyed the exploit immensely, and
at once insisted that the pedestrian should be refreshed by a bath, a
copious meal, and a good rest in the big chair, where he repeated his
story by particular request.
"You deserve a bicycle, and you shall have one, as sure as my name is
Timothy West. I like pluck and perseverance, and you've got both; so
come on, my boy, and name the wheel you like best. Sid needs a little
taking down, as you lads say, and this will give it to him, I fancy.
I'm a younger brother myself, and I know what their trials are."
As his uncle made these agreeable remarks, Hugh looked as if _his_
trials were all over; for his face shone with soap and satisfaction, his
hunger was quenched by a splendid dinner, his tired feet luxuriated in a
pair of vast slippers, and the blissful certainty of owning a
first-class bicycle filled his cup to overflowing. Words could hardly
express his gratitude, and nothing but the hope of meeting Sid with this
glorious news would have torn him from the reposeful Paradise where he
longed to linger. Pluck and perseverance, with cold cream on the
blistered heels, got him into his shoes again, and he rode away in a
horse-car, as in a triumphal chariot, to find his brother.
"I won't brag, but I do feel immensely tickled at this day's work.
Wonder how he got on. Did it in two or three hours, I suppose, and is
parading round with those swell club fellows at the rink. I'll slip in
and let him find me, as if I wasn't a bit proud of what I've done, and
didn't care two pins for anybody's praise."
With this plan in his head, Hugh enjoyed the afternoon very much;
keeping a sharp lookout for Sid, even while astonishing feats were being
performed before his admiring eyes. But nowhere did he see his brother;
for he was searching for a blue uniform and a helmet with a certain
badge on it, while Sid in a borrowed hat and coat sat in a corner
looking on, whenever a splitting headache and the pain in his bones
allowed him to see and enjoy the exploits in which he had hoped to join.
Not until it was over did the brothers meet, as they went out, and then
the expression on Sid's face was so comical that Hugh laughed till the
crowd about them stared, wondering what the joke could be.
"How in the world did _you_ get here?" asked the elder boy, giving his
hat a sudden pull to hide the plaster.
"Walked, as you advised me to."
Words cannot express the pleasure that answer gave Hugh, or the
exultation he vainly tried to repress, as his eyes twinkled and a grin
of real boyish fun shone upon his sunburnt countenance.
"You expect me to believe that, do you?"
"Just as you please. I started to catch you with your bag, and when I
missed you, thought I might as well keep on. Got in about one, had
dinner at uncle's, and been enjoying these high jinks ever since."
"Very well, for a beginning. Keep it up and you'll be a Rowell by and
by. What do you suppose father will say to you, small boy?"
"Not much. Uncle will make that all right. _He_ thought it was a plucky
thing to do, and so did the girls. When did you get in?" asked Hugh,
rather nettled at Sid's want of enthusiasm, though it was evident he was
much impressed by the "small boy's" prank.
"I took it easy after Bemis left me. Had a game of tennis at the
Blanchards' as I came along, dinner at the club, and strolled up here
with the fellows. Got a headache, and don't feel up to much."
As Sid spoke and Hugh's keen eye took in the various signs of distress
which betrayed a hint of the truth, the grin changed to a hearty "Ha!
ha!" as he smote his knees exclaiming gleefully, "You've come to grief!
I know it, I see it. Own up, and don't shirk, for I'll find it out
somehow, as sure as you live."
"Don't make such a row in the street. Get aboard this car and I'll tell
you, for you'll give me no peace till I do," answered Sid, well knowing
that Alice would never keep the secret.
To say that it was "nuts" to Hugh faintly expresses the interest he took
in the story which was extracted bit by bit from the reluctant sufferer;
but after a very pardonable crow over the mishaps of his oppressor, he
yielded to the sympathy he felt for his brother, and was very good to
him.
This touched Sid, and filled him with remorse for past unkindness; for
one sees one's faults very plainly, and is not ashamed to own it, when
one is walking through the Valley of Humiliation.
"Look here, I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, as they left the car,
and Hugh offered an arm, with a friendly air pleasant to see. "I'll give
you the old wheel, and let Joe get another where he can. It's small for
him, and I doubt if he wants it, any way. I do think you were a plucky
fellow to tramp your twenty miles in good time, and not bear malice
either, so let's say 'Done,' and forgive and forget."
"Much obliged, but uncle is going to give me a new one; so Joe needn't
be disappointed. I know how hard that is, and am glad to keep him from
it, for he's poor and can't afford a new one."
That answer was Hugh's only revenge for his own trials, and Sid felt it,
though he merely said, with a hearty slap on the shoulder,--
"Glad to hear it. Uncle is a trump, and so are you. We'll take the last
train home, and I'll pay your fare."
"Thank you. Poor old man, you did get a bump, didn't you?" exclaimed
Hugh, as they took off their hats in the hall, and the patch appeared in
all its gloomy length and breadth.
"Head will be all right in a day or two, but I stove in my helmet, and
ground a hole in both knees of my new shorts. Had to borrow a fit-out of
Bemis, and leave my rags behind. We needn't mention any more than is
necessary to the girls; I hate to be fussed over," answered Sid, trying
to speak carelessly.
Hugh had to stop and have another laugh, remembering the taunts his own
mishaps had called forth; but he did not retaliate, and Sid never forgot
it. Their stay was a short one, and Hugh was the hero of the hour, quite
eclipsing his brother, who usually took the first place, but now very
meekly played second fiddle, conscious that he was not an imposing
figure, in a coat much too big for him, with a patch on his forehead, a
purple bruise on one cheek, and a general air of dilapidation very
trying to the usually spruce youth.
When they left, Uncle Tim patted Hugh on the head,--a liberty the boy
would have resented if the delightful old gentleman had not followed it
up by saying, with a reckless generosity worthy of record,--
"Choose your bicycle, my boy, and send the bill to me." Then turning to
Sid he added, in a tone that made the pale face redden suddenly, "And do
you remember that the tortoise beat the hare in the old fable we all
know."
* * * * *
"That is the last of the stories, for our holiday is over, and to-morrow
we must go home. We have had a splendid time, and thank you and auntie
so much, dear grandma," said Min, expressing the feeling of all the
children, as they stood about the fire when the bicycle tale ended.
"I'm so glad, my darlings, and please God we'll all meet here again next
year, well and happy and ready for more fun," answered the old lady,
with arms and lap full of loving little people.
"Auntie deserves a vote of thanks, and I rise to propose it," said
Geoff; and it was passed with great applause.
"Many thanks. If the odds and ends in my portfolio have given you
pleasure or done you any good, my fondest wishes are gratified,"
answered Aunt Elinor, laughing, yet well pleased. "I tucked a moral in,
as we hide pills in jelly, and I hope you didn't find them hard to
swallow."
"Very easy and nice. I intend to look after little things faithfully,
and tell the girls how to make their jerseys fit," said Min.
"I'm going to fill my jewel-box as Daisy did, and learn to cook," added
Lotty.
"Eli is the boy for me, and I won't forget to be kind to _my_ small
chap," said Walt, stroking his younger brother's head with unusual
kindness.
"Well, I'm rather mixed in my heroes, but I'll take the best of Corny,
Onawandah, and the banner fellow for my share," cried Geoff.
The little people proclaimed their favorites; but as all spoke together,
only a comical mixture of doves, bears, babies, table-cloths and blue
hose reached the ear. Then came the good-night kisses, the patter of
departing feet, and silence fell upon the room. The little wheel was
still, the chairs stood empty, the old portraits looked sadly down, the
fire died out, and the Spinning-Wheel Stories were done.
* * * * *
University Press: John Wilson & Son, Cambridge.
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