“Lemmy—oo-hoo—Lemmy—”
Lemmy stopped short in his game of jack-stones, and looked fearfully over
his shoulder. All about him were the rest of the children, unconcerned,
playing none the quieter for the reposeful afternoon shadow of the gray
cloister-like walls. At the edge of the yard where the grass was worn
off most he saw the “biggest boys,” now suspending their game of ball to
call to him. In the general cry he recognized the leading, raucous voice
of Gus Chapman. Lemmy did not answer. He turned his back and tried to
fling his jackstones indifferently. Out of the corner of his eye he
could see Gus approaching.
“The ’Dopters, Lemmy—the ’Dopters are coming!” Gus warned him.
In an instant Lemmy was on his feet. Panic-stricken, he fled, leaving
his jackstones upon the ground. He put his hands over his ears to shut
out the hooting, derisive cries of the boys who did not understand his
fear of the ’Dopters—that horde of individuals who lurked about the Home,
a constant menace to his happiness. They looked harmless enough, to be
sure, in their varied disguises. Some came as jolly, oldish ladies with
much candy and sometimes fat bunches of raisins in their pockets. Others
looked for all the world like hearty farmers who might raise apples, both
red and yellow—a very deceptive sort, these farmers, who laughed a great
deal and poked the boys’ muscles and pinched the girls’ cheeks. Most to
be feared were the ’Dopters in black who hung round more than any of the
rest. They brought toys hardly worn at all, but they never seemed to
want to let them go at the last minute. They made a show of crying over
Gracie Peeler and Nannie Bagget, who had curls and knew how to do a
curtsey. The ’Dopters in black always made off with some one.
Despite the endless variety, it was not hard to tell a ’Dopter if you saw
him in time. There was something about them. Most of the children
recognized them instinctively. Gus was particularly expert at picking
out the ’Dopters from the casual visitors at the Home. Watching for them
never interfered with his play in the least. He always saw first. Lemmy
had learned to trust Gus’s signals of danger, and although he was
overwhelmed by the accompanying teasing, he felt very grateful. Gus was
his savior—his methods were not to be criticized. Times innumerable Gus
had saved him from being adopted.
Who knew what it meant—being adopted? Lemmy could not understand why
most of the children thought that it was something nice. None of them
seemed to realize that there was any reason to be afraid. They were
always talking about Tommie Graham, who had been borne off by the
’Dopters. His friends at the Home had not seen him since his
disappearance, but stories had started somehow about Tommie’s having a
dog with a schooner back and a train of cars which whizzed around when he
pressed a button. It was also said that there was another button which
Tommie could press and some one would come to take him for a ride in a
sailboat. But all this was mere hearsay. There was no telling what had
really befallen Tommie, all because he was foolish enough to sing in the
hearing of the ’Dopters his song about three frogs that sat on a lily
pad.
Lemmy was certain that when a ’Dopter threw off his disguise he was a
dragon of the very worst kind. It was Simple Simon to believe when they
talked about this and that you could have if you would only come along.
Lemmy knew, for once from behind the office door he had heard them
talking to Miss Border, who wore the white of authority. Their remarks
about “parental history” and “hereditary instincts” and “psychological
effects of environment” had betrayed them. Lemmy remembered how ominous
these things had sounded mixed with whoop and halloo from the playground.
And the queer feeling which had shivered through him! The sensation from
eating a mouthful of green gooseberries was nothing in comparison.
How could the other children believe that likely as not those words meant
something nice? Lemmy knew better. After he had overheard that secret
conference with Miss Border, he thought that he understood the ’Dopters
pretty well. Theirs was a sticky-fly-paper method; there was no end to
the ways they had of fooling you. They had named him “among the least
promising”—this, Lemmy gathered, on account of his skinny legs, the
result of something “subnormal”; and because of his habit of going off
alone into corners, termed “sulkiness and uncompanionability”; his big
ears had something to do with it too. One tall lady had said that they
were “not exactly Grecian.” Altogether he was “undesirable.” This
classification even Gus took to be aboveboard.
“They don’t wantcha, Lemmy,” Gus repeatedly assured him. “Yuh needn’t be
so scarey.” But Gus didn’t fathom the duplicity of the ’Dopters—they
hatched up all sorts of schemes to make you feel easy and then got you
unawares. Likely as not they knew all the time that he was the littlest
boy in the Home who could hang by his heels, and that he could hold his
breath longer than Gus—and, though it was a secret, that he had a pet
toad named Nippy in the broken wall where it was green and wet. They
seemed to know everything—the ’Dopters.
The thought of these things made Lemmy’s heels fly faster. He whisked
behind the spirea bushes and drew from underneath the widespreading
branches a short ladder which he had constructed laboriously from the
odds and ends of dry-goods boxes. He set up the rickety support and
climbed nimbly to the top of the high, broad wall, where the low elm
trees hid him from view. He drew the ladder up carefully after him, and
with a breath of relief stretched himself at full length, safe from the
’Dopters for a little while at least. It was comfort to have such a
place where he could hide, unless the ’Dopters came at mealtime, when no
one could escape. He would not soon forget the time when Lucy Simmons
was dragged away just as she had started to eat her piece of blackberry
pie. She never came back to finish it. One could never be really safe
from the ’Dopters. There was no let-up to looking out for them. And
there would always be ’Dopters as long as the Outside remained. Lemmy
was afraid of the Outside. He liked to look at it from the top of the
wall; it appeared fascinatingly full of mystery, but it always terrified
him. There was no place really safe, even bed. Lemmy sighed and
squinted through the fluttering leaves at a bit of cloud. After a while
it would be getting pink, as it did when supper time came—baked potatoes
and milk, and maybe jam from the long, dark shelves in the vegetable
cellar. Lemmy’s thoughts flew to the empty barrel in which he intended
to hide when winter came on and the elm leaves fell to the ground. It
would be hard to get by Mrs. O’Gorman, who was always puttering about the
basement with a pad and pencil, muttering unintelligible things under her
breath. Perhaps the linen closet would be safer, only they might come
when Gerda and Lou were putting away the ironed things.
Lemmy’s speculations were interrupted by a deep “Ho-ho-hum” from the
other side of the wall. The exclamation had a luxurious sound, as if
some one was treating himself to a good rest. Lemmy peered over the edge
of the wall, and gave a little gasp.
There on the bench beneath was some one who had undoubtedly stepped out
of book covers. He was a big man, a very big man, with a brown skin
lined with fine wrinkles which told all sorts of things without his
saying a word. His hair was gray, but he looked somehow very young and
up to anything lively. His old trousers were turned up, and his coat
with its big buttons, flung wide apart, disclosed a faded blouse. From
his belt dangled a heavy chain, and from his pocket the end of a jolly
colored handkerchief. His cap had the look of a cap which had been
through things. Slowly and comfortably he stretched his long arms, and
as his sleeve slipped back Lemmy caught sight of a tattooed bird, green
and blue and red, above his left wrist. And then he flung his head back,
and his blue eves twinkled up at Lemmy without a sign of surprise.
“A-hoy, mate,” he called companionably.
“A-hoy, Cap’n,” returned Lemmy, laughing in delight.
“How’s the wind?”
“Southwest,” Lemmy gave back promptly. “And that’s what stirs the water
up all purply pink—”
“Right-o—” The Cap’n slapped his knee in approval.
“Wind that makes the lake look like that must come from a place where a
fellah could find out about magic,” Lemmy speculated.
“Magic? You want to find out about magic, young man?” The Cap’n sat up
with a great show of interest. His eyes were very friendly.
“Oh, more’n anything else in the world,” Lemmy burst out impulsively. “I
want to find out how to make a rosebush pop out of a stovepipe hat and
how to pull fuzzy little chickens out of people’s sleeves and how to pick
gold pieces out of the air the way I saw a man do once to make the
lumbermen laugh at Camp Cusson—that’s where I lived when my Daddy used to
run the lumber camp until he died, and so did my mother of epidemick—”
Lemmy caught his breath. “I want to learn how to do magic so I can have
fun and make people laugh.”
The Cap’n chuckled and spread his jolly colored handkerchief across his
knees. From an old, brown wallet he took a coin which he twirled merrily
in his nimble fingers.
“Have a look at this,” he said, reaching up to put the coin into Lemmy’s
hand.
Lemmy looked curiously at the strange piece of money which lay in his
palm. It was not at all like the dimes and nickels which the ’Dopters
often slid into a fellow’s pocket. It was shiny and yellow, the color of
the pin which always fastened Miss Border’s collar. It was gold! And
there were figures of dragons upon it guarding words which Lemmy could
not read at all, though they were very short.
“Heave it into the hanker,” directed the Cap’n.
Plump into the jolly colored handkerchief Lemmy dropped the coin.
Wide-eyed, he watched the Cap’n tie the handkerchief into a knot and
twist it smartly to make certain that it was secure. With a fine
flourish he flung it high into the air, caught it again deftly and untied
the tight knot. Smiling broadly, he spread the handkerchief out upon his
knees again. Lemmy stared unbelievingly—the gold coin had vanished and
in its place lay a silver dollar. He blinked at the air in a daze. Very
quickly the Cap’n retied his handkerchief and tossed it up once more.
When he opened it again, wonder of wonders, there was the gold coin!
A cry of discovery burst from Lemmy’s throat.
“You’re a Majishun!”
The Cap’n beamed and drew from his pocket, one, two, three oranges. He
took the gold coin again, and carelessly balancing it upon his nose, at
the same time tossed the oranges one after the other into the air,
juggling them with fine precision so that they rose and fell rhythmically
in time to music which the Cap’n alone could hear.
“They’re majicked!” Lemmy whispered spellbound as he eyed the oranges
flashing in the air while the coin remained apparently affixed to the
Cap’n’s nose.
His eyes grew wider yet when suddenly the Cap’n ended his performance by
gathering in oranges and coin with one grand sweep, not dropping a thing.
“Now hold your hands,” the Cap’n invited.
Before Lemmy could say Jack Robinson, there right in his own hands was
one of the magician’s golden balls.
“Shiver my timbers, did you never see an orange before?” the Cap’n cried
as he watched Lemmy’s face.
“Not a Majishun’s orange,” Lemmy answered, fingering his treasure
reverently.
“Taste it, young ’un—”
“O-oh, I couldn’t!” Lemmy’s voice carried agony.
“The Cap’n’s orders. Eat it and you get another.”
Still Lemmy hesitated.
“I’ll have one along with you,” the Cap’n urged sociably. “I can beat
you peeling!”
The Cap’n started to peel one of the erstwhile magic balls. Lemmy dug
his teeth quickly into his own orange. The race was on. Lemmy’s squeal
of victory as he threw down the last bit of rind surprised the Cap’n
amazingly.
“And mine only half peeled,” he exclaimed. “You are a quick-un.”
Then, quite naturally, Lemmy fell to eating oranges along with the Cap’n.
“Eating oranges with a Majishun—what’d Gus say?” Lemmy murmured, half in
a trance. “What if I hadn’t run away from the ’Dopters?”
“The ’Dopters?” The Cap’n put his head on one side and raised his
eyebrows very much puzzled indeed. “Who are they?”
“Oh, the ’Dopters are always hanging round the Home, trying to carry us
off. A fellah has to watch out all the time. They’re sharp as tacks,
always trying to fool us by looking something diff’rent. Ev’ry time they
come they change their clothes to put us off the track.”
“Oh-ho—so you don’t like ’em, eh?”
“Oh, I’m afraid of ’em, they scare me so!” Lemmy’s voice quivered
pitifully. “All the time I have to think of ’em. I’m never, never safe
from the ’Dopters. I bet they’d poke a fellah’s eyes out once they got
him, or starve him maybe. Oh, I don’t know what a ’Dopter wouldn’t do!”
The Cap’n listened gravely. Never once did he laugh as Lemmy poured
forth his miserable fear of the ’Dopters. The Cap’n understood. Lemmy
could tell that. By the time the oranges had disappeared, Lemmy had told
the Cap’n all about the ’Dopters and even confided the existence of
Nippy.
“I’ll show him to you,” Lemmy offered, hustling down the ladder to return
with his pet toad upon a wet leaf for exhibition.
The Cap’n was a gratifying sort. He saw at once Nippy’s good points—the
beautiful brightness of his eyes, the fine spots upon his back, the
superiority of his intellect. Nippy in turn winked his approval at the
Cap’n as if they had many a joke in common.
“As fine a toad as ever sat a rock or sailed the sea,” avowed the Cap’n
enthusiastically. “By the bye, young man, how’d you like to take Nippy
on a cruise with me?”
Lemmy clutched the wall and gazed for one electrical second into the
Cap’n’s eyes. It wasn’t a joke!
“Can we start now?” Lemmy asked breathlessly.
The Cap’n bestirred himself instantly.
“It’s high time to be off. Swing yourself down and I’ll catch you.”
Lemmy ensconced Nippy quickly in the little perforated box which he
always kept in his pocket for him; then he swung himself from the wall
straight into the Cap’n’s arms. It seemed so natural and safe to be
walking along Outside, ahold of a Majishun’s hand.
Lemmy’s legs took on a fine stride.
Down the hill they went with never a look behind at those gray walls, for
their eyes were fixed upon the great lake, Superior, pulsing now under
the wonder touch of the southwest wind, shimmering all the colors of the
opal. There lay the boats poking up their brightly painted smokestacks
for folks to see. Down, down, and down, such a short way, and yet, the
wonderful farness of it!
“Here we are at the docks—the Northern Star waiting for us,” the Cap’n
announced presently.
Lemmy swung along a little faster, for there in full sight were the high
ore docks stretching far, far into the water. Of course they had been
“majicked” there. Thus the wonder of them was explained.
The Cap’n lifted him to his shoulder and walked along the abutment to one
of the biggest freighters nosing the end of the dock.
“All aboard the Northern Star,” the Cap’n said, giving him a lift up the
ladder.
Lemmy climbed like a little monkey, as fast as he could, for fear he
wouldn’t really get aboard.
Straight up to the bridge the Cap’n took him. “You can see us load up
from here. Keep your eyes open and many a sight you’ll see.” Lemmy
heard the Cap’n’s words as if in a dream. He looked wonderingly about
him.
On top of the high dock he could see cars full of reddish, yellowish
chunks which the Cap’n called iron ore. Hurrying about everywhere were
the dock workers, smudged from head to foot with pigment which gave them
the look of pirates. With quick calls these men loosened the doors in
the bottoms of the cars to let the ore rattle down into the big pockets
in the dock. But nearer at hand something more engrossing was happening.
Deck-hands aboard the Northern Star were opening the hatches. All along
the deck of the freighter the hatchways yawned ready for the load of ore.
There was a great rattle of cables from above, and down came the chutes
into the hatchways. Lemmy could see the men on the dock poking long
poles into the pockets to set the ore sliding. The first chunks struck
the bottom of the hold thunderingly and then heavy masses came sliding
down the chutes with a steady, rushing sound which thrilled Lemmy like
nothing he had ever heard before. It was not long before the big
freighter was loaded full of the ore, and one after another the long
chutes were drawn back into place against the dock. When the men set
about closing the hatchways, the Cap’n took Lemmy below to see his
quarters.
What Lemmy saw first when he entered was an old sea chest.
“Have a look in,” the Cap’n suggested, following Lemmy’s gaze. “It’s
chock-full of stuff from everywhere.”
He threw back the lid, and Lemmy had a whiff of tar and tobacco and salt,
an indescribable smell, suggesting untold adventure. “Chock-full” the
chest was of all manner of wonderful things: compasses and shells,
quadrants and gaudy strips of silk, battered old books, squinty-eyed
monkeys carved out of ivory, long strings of many-colored beads, chains,
silver and copper and gold all strung with bangles—there was no end to
the treasure store.
The Cap’n took a cutlass from the chest and balanced it upon his nose as
easily as he had poised the coin there.
“See here, young ’un,” he said suddenly. “You’re old enough to start
learning magic.”
A golden mist swam before Lemmy’s eyes.
“You—you mean to learn to be a majishun?”
“A sort of A-B-C magician, yes. Here, take this!” He thrust into
Lemmy’s hand a carved ebony ring. “I’ll show you how to make it
disappear.”
Very patiently, the Cap’n initiated Lemmy into the rudiments of magic,
teaching him how to exhibit with a flourish before imaginary spectators,
then with an adroit pass to make it disappear until he chose by a swift
movement to hold it once more in full view between his thumb and finger.
The mastery of the old trick, dependent only upon a little dexterity in
sleight-of-hand, filled Lemmy with enormous pride. He glowed with
delight at the Cap’n’s applause, mingled with the easily imagined
handclapping from the invisible audience. He was lifted far, far away
from commonplace things. He was a novitiate in a new world of unending
mystery and delight. He tried to say “thank you” to the Cap’n, but his
gratitude overwhelmed him. He could only press the ring back reverently
into the Cap’n’s hand. There were no words for a thing such as this.
Then came a noise at the door. At the Cap’n’s bidding in walked a burly
fellow as big as the Cap’n himself.
“Look at the young ’un, Andy McDonald—he’s off with us tonight,” the
Cap’n informed him.
“Bless my soul,” Andy McDonald exclaimed, tousling Lemmy’s hair, “the
Northern Star’s in luck.”
“Now Andy’ll find you a proper place for Nippy and I’ll be off on a bit
of business before we set out.” The Cap’n left him with Andy McDonald,
who knew exactly where to catch flies for Nippy and where to get pebbles
to his liking and where to find just the sort of safe, dampish corner
where he could voyage happily. And McDonald was very ingenious at
devising quarters which would give Nippy plenty of room and yet keep him
in bounds.
“He might jump overboard in his sleep, you know, dreamin’ like,” Andy
McDonald remarked as he screened Nippy in.
As soon as Nippy was settled, Andy gave a shrill whistle which brought
Chink, the rat terrier mascot of the boat, tearing to make Lemmy’s
acquaintance.
“He’s got a collar with spikes on it,” Lemmy cried excitedly. “And a
piece of his ear’s nipped off!”
“He gets scarred up, Chink does, but he never gets licked. Don’t let him
get in a row with Nippy.”
How could Lemmy know that during these enchanted moments with Andy
McDonald the Cap’n was talking with Miss Border about “parental history”
and “hereditary instincts” and all the rest of the ’Dopters’ secrets?
It was at table that Lemmy saw the Cap’n again—the head of a feast
befitting a Majishun such as he. Lemmy tried hard not to gobble, but the
chicken was oh, so tender, and he had never before tasted what the Cap’n
called “kumquats.” There was so much he couldn’t possibly eat it all.
He finally gave up trying when the Cap’n assured him that there would be
more tomorrow.
Up on the bridge again Lemmy watched the busy engine haul in the cables
which held the freighter to the dock. A capable little tug, which the
Cap’n called familiarly “Sultana,” came to help them head the boat into
the channel.
“We’re off,” cried the Cap’n as the Sultana chug-chugged away, while with
slow majesty the Northern Star made its way out into the lake.
“Look behind at the Diamond Necklace,” Andy called to him. Turning to
look back, Lemmy saw the Allouez ore docks glittering, palpitating, in
the fast gathering purple of the night. Upon the hill electric signs
blazed out fantastically; here a red sun rising over a green hill, and
farther on a multicolored fan opening and closing with a bewildering
flash; then came a comical, twinkling bucket of shiny paint which would
bubble over. Past the signs came rows and rows of lights set regularly
like soldiers.
The Northern Star was moving faster now, passing between the big piers of
the canal under the Aërial Bridge past the lighthouse with revolving
signals.
A big passenger boat coming into the harbor passed them swiftly, giving
two long whistles by way of greeting. Lemmy caught the tinkle of music
and the sound of people laughing on board—then suddenly they were gone.
Out—out—past all the lights went the Northern Star straight into the
silver white moon path stretching endlessly across the water.
Lemmy looked up at the winking stars and leaned comfortably back against
the Cap’n’s arm.
“I’m safe now from the ’Dopters,” he whispered exultantly.
“We’ve given them the slip,” the Cap’n assured him. “They’ll never get
you now.”
Dreamily, with his head upon the Cap’n’s shoulder, Lemmy happily fingered
the ebony ring which had somehow “got majicked” into his pocket.
_Aileen Cleveland Higgins_.