orderliness, though he insisted he knew where everything was, and
strenuously declined his wife's offers to go over to the store, or
stores rather, and help him "straighten up." The stock had overflowed
the floor of the original building and instead of putting in shelves
to dispose of the stock conveniently, he built another and still
another shanty to hold the overflow. But in spite of queer methods he
was making money steadily. He kept each building securely locked, for
he said he wouldn't have idle folks sitting around in his store. He
went over to the station according to the railroad time schedule,
though it was only a flag station and was seldom flagged, and whenever
he saw a customer at the store door or on the way, he bustled over to
unlock the door, stumble around in the dark, for there were no
windows, and hunt out what they wanted.
Bacon, molasses, dress-goods, coffins and farm implements were on
close terms of intimacy and whatever was wanted Mr. Follet could
produce with amazing promptness.
Such methods, however, consumed a great deal of time on the path
between his home and the store, and Steve filled an urgent need of the
combined establishment.
One morning at breakfast in early autumn Mr. Follet was in a great
flutter of excitement. A travelling auditor of the railroad was to be
there for the day looking over his accounts and this not frequent
event was a sore trial to both the station-master and the auditor.
Each time Mr. Follet said to him nervously: "Now, you know I can't
keep things like the road tells me to, and if things don't just come
out even I'll make up whatever's lacking."
When the auditor, a big, broad-shouldered, kindly-faced gentleman
arrived on this particular morning, and was seated for work, Mr.
Follet made his usual statement.
"All right, Mr. Follet, all right," said the genial auditor, "we know
you are straight as a string. Are you sure you've got all the ticket
stubs?" he continued as Mr. Follet brought out some bits of pasteboard
from a big bushel basket.
"Oh, yes, I'm sure," said Mr. Follet. "I don't let nobody in here but
myself and so nothing is out of place." Then thinking a minute, he
said, "Well now I do believe I stuck a few stubs in this tin pail."
He looked, and sure enough there were a few more.
"And the bills of lading," said the auditor, "are these all?"
Mr. Follet pondered a moment and then brightening, exclaimed: "Why no,
I stuck a few of them in one of these here coffins one day for safe
keeping," and he stepped over to a grim pine coffin keeping company
with a pile of gay bandanas, and brought forth another bunch of bills.
But his foot caught in a coil of barbed wire as he started over to the
auditor with them and it was at that moment that Steve came to the
station door to get something and Mr. Follet called out, "Here, Steve,
hand these over to the gentleman." The boy started to obey, but when
he turned and faced the auditor he stood rooted to the floor, his face
white and eyes staring.
"What ails you?" said Mr. Follet sharply, noticing him. The auditor
looked quickly up also, and the boy found his voice.
"Samuel Polk," he said slowly.
The auditor smiled, and replied pleasantly, "That's my name, son, and
where did you ever know me?"
"Ye sent me the watch," said the boy.
"Is that so!" exclaimed Mr. Polk. "So you are the boy I met in the
woods! Well, this is marvellous, sure, that we should meet here. How
did you ever get so far away from Hollow Hut?" he went on smiling.
The boy told him briefly, while Mr. Follet listened with lively
interest. When the pitiful tale of the loss of the watch was told,
Steve added sturdily:
"But I got yer fox skin in spite of 'em, an' I've been a-workin' to
git to the city to give it ter ye."
"Working to take the skin to me when you have no watch," said the
auditor, gently.
"Course," said the boy; "hit was yourn jes' the same," and the auditor
reached out and drew the boy to him tenderly, thinking of all the
hardship he had borne in the effort to be square and honest.
"You are the boy for me," he said with a glimmer in his eyes that made
Steve feel queer, and he broke away, saying, "I'll go and brung ye the
skin."
He was back as quickly as his sturdy legs could bring him, and laid
the fox skin on Mr. Polk's knee. It was gravely accepted and admired,
and then Steve returned to his work with all the earnestness he could
summon after the excitement of this unexpected meeting.
When Mr. Follet and Mr. Polk came over to dinner the acquaintance of
the two who had met that November day in the mountains was continued
and Mr. Polk was greatly pleased to find that the boy was already
"larnin'," and astonished at the progress which had been made during
the summer. On the way back to the store he said to Mr. Follet:
"I've taken a great fancy to that boy; he ought to have a good
education. I am all alone in the world and no good to anybody. If it's
all square with you, I'll take that boy to the city with me this
afternoon when I leave at four-thirty and put him in school
somewhere."
Mr. Follet was amazed and he hated to give up the boy who had become
so useful, but after a moment's thought, he said:
"I don't see as I have anything to say about it. He just stopped here
on his way to you, and you've come to him. You'll have to take him if
you want him, though I don't see how under the canopee we'll get along
without him now."
"That is just like you, Follet, straight always," said the other
warmly, and after a little the station-master went back to take the
news to Steve. It startled them all and Mrs. Follet expressed her
great regret in seeing the boy go, but she put his few little
belongings in good order and prepared him to start off "clean and
whole," as she expressed it. Nancy looked on wide-eyed, and Steve got
ready like one in a dream. He wrapped his small bundle of clothes in
the fox skin, which Mr. Polk had asked him to take care of, and went
over to the station.
At four-thirty the train rushed up. Mr. Polk led Steve into a
beautiful plush-seated car and placed the boy where he could have a
last look at his friends, for Mr. and Mrs. Follet and Nancy stood on
the platform.
It was Nancy who held his eyes till the last moment, little Nancy with
two big tears dropping down her cheeks. Steve's throat ached
unaccountably.
VII
A TRIP TO THE CITY
"Here we are," said Mr. Polk, as the train thundered into the
station at Louisville. The ride of four hours had been a continued
kaleidoscopic delight. Steve could not understand how it was that
trees and houses went racing by the car windows and Mr. Polk had
rare enjoyment in the boy's unsophisticated inquiry and comment.
Bringing this boy into the city was like giving sudden sight to a
child who had lived its life in blindness. With keenest pleasure,
Mr. Polk took him into a brilliantly lighted restaurant for supper
and then afterwards up town by trolley into a large furnishing
establishment, for it was Saturday night and the stores were open.
There he fitted the little fellow out from top to toe according to
his liking, the outfit including a shining German silver watch! The
two attracted attention everywhere, the boy's face a study in its
swiftly changing expression and the man full of eager interest which
he could not curb.
When Steve was all dressed and stood before a mirror, Mr. Polk
exclaimed:
"Now, that is something like!" And the boy turning from the
transformed vision of himself, lifted a quivering face to his
benefactor.
There was a delicately sensitive side to the nature of this boy of the
woods. To him this experience was not simply getting new, fine
clothes, but his old familiar self seemed to go with the old clothes,
and like the chrysalis emerging into the butterfly, he could not pass
into the new life, which the new type of clothes represented, without
having his joy touched with the pain of travail.
With the tenderness of a woman Mr. Polk put his arm about the little
fellow in quick contrition, knowing that it had been too much for this
habitant of the quiet woods, and said in a most matter-of-fact way:
"Now, son, for home and bed," and in a few minutes more the boy was
snugly tucked in bed in Mr. Polk's comfortable bachelor quarters, and
the next morning when he woke he was a new boy inwardly as well as
outwardly.
He was ready for new "thrills" and they came. After a very astonishing
breakfast he went with Mr. Polk to church. The beautiful building and
wonderfully dressed people held his wide-eyed interest, but when the
deep-toned organ poured forth its solemn melody, big tears dropped
down the boy's face and Mr. Polk drew him within a protecting arm. It
was like touching the quivering chords of a little bared soul with
new, strange harmonies, and the sensitive heart of the man understood
intuitively the boy's mingled joy and pain.
In the afternoon Mr. Polk took his charge to the home of a friend to
see about schools, as his friend had a boy about the same age, and
also to get help as to the general problem of caring for his protégé.
Arrived at the house, the friend, Mr. Colton, his wife and Maud, the
young daughter about fifteen years of age, were at home and gave the
visitors a lively welcome. They were at once greatly interested in the
mountain boy, but so civilized was his outfit, and intelligent his
face that they could not realize his difference from themselves except
when he talked. This they were delighted to get him to do, and he
answered all questions unabashed, though he liked better to look and
listen.
The Coltons were well-to-do people with ever-ready, easy hospitality
and insisted that Mr. Polk and Steve remain to tea.
"The maids are both out as it happens, so we must get tea ourselves,"
said Mrs. Colton, adding with mock graciousness, "and everybody may
help!"
They all trooped out in responsive pleasantry through the hall, and
Mr. Colton inquired:
"Where is Raymond?"
"Oh, he is out," replied Mrs. Colton. "There is no telling when he
will be in."
That they were very indulgent parents and Raymond was an exceedingly
lively boy, Mr. Polk already knew.
The hostess and her daughter exchanged glances of sudden consternation
when they reached the dining-room, then burst into merriest laughter.
At last Mrs. Colton said between subsiding ripples, "Father, please go
down in the basement and look in the furnace and you'll find the baker
with the cold roast left from dinner! Mr. Polk, you go along too,
please, and you'll see some loose bricks between the joists right
under this dining-room window, and right behind them is the bread-box
which you can bring up!"
"The cake is up-stairs in the hat-box of my trunk under lock and key,"
gaily put in Maud, "and you can come with me, Steve, and bring down
the preserves from under the bed!"
By this time the whole family were in gales of laughter, and Steve was
greatly puzzled at this new phase of civilization. Mrs. Colton finally
explained that for a few Sundays past Raymond had been carrying off
everything there was to eat in the house, and having "spreads" in the
barn with his chums. This time they determined to outwit him.
Mr. Polk joined heartily in all the merriment, going after and
bringing in provisions, but in his heart he thought, "This is the
product of too much opportunity--give me my mountain boy every time.
If he doesn't outstrip this pampered son, I miss my guess."
A little later Raymond came in and dominated the conversation at once,
after the manner of too many bright, confident children of modern city
life. After tea he took Steve in charge on a lively tour of
exploration, and Mr. Polk talked over his plans for his boy.
"The thing you ought to do," said Mr. Colton who was very clear-headed
concerning everything except his own son, "is to put the boy in a
mountain college. He would be at a disadvantage among boys of his age
in town, and then you've no way to take care of him, travelling as you
do. My wife has a friend near here who is greatly interested in a
mountain college; just go over and see her."
This seemed good advice and Mr. Colton took Mr. Polk and Steve over at
once.
The lady came in and greeted them with gracious cordiality, but when
she learned their errand and knew that one of the little mountain
boys, to whose welfare she had given so much thought, time and money,
was before her, her eyes grew tender and filled with tears.
"He must go to our mountain college at once; the school has just
opened," she said. So they heard all about the school and its
opportunities. When she had finished Steve spoke up:
"Is all that jes' fer mountain boys lack me?" This seemed beyond
belief, but they assured him it was.
Raymond had greatly enjoyed demonstrating the mysteries of the
telephone, electric lights and various contrivances of his own to so
totally unenlightened and yet so appreciative an intelligence as
Steve's, while the quaint mountain speech interested and amused him
exceedingly. So when Mr. Polk and the boy took leave of the Coltons
for the night Raymond secured a promise that Steve might attend school
with him next day. Mr. Polk would be busy making arrangements for the
few days' holiday which would be necessary to take Steve back to the
mountains and place him in school.
Promptly next morning Raymond arrived at Mr. Polk's rooms for Steve
and the boys started off together like two comrades. It was Steve's
first day in a schoolroom, and eye and ear were on the alert, taking
in everything.
He was well dressed and with his intelligent face the other boys
noted nothing unusual until the noon hour when Raymond introduced his
new specimen with keen relish. He had no unkind intentions in the sly
winks he gave chosen comrades, but these aroused the curiosity of his
fellows, and when Steve began to talk the boys awoke to lively
possibilities. One after another began to ask questions.
"What did you do for fun down at Hollow Hut?" asked one.
"We uns didn't do nothin' fer fun, 'cep'in' hunt cotton tails, foxes
an' coons," answered the boy.
"Didn't you play football?" asked some one else.
"I nuver hearn tell of it," said Steve.
"Du tell," returned another boy, venturing to fall a little into the
stranger's vernacular.
"Didn't you ever play tennis, shinny or baseball?" persisted some one
else, and Steve replied politely "that nobody ever hearn o' them
things in Hollow Hut."
The boys then began to venture more boldly into imitations of Steve's
speech while some got behind him and doubled up in silent laughter.
Raymond looked on, feeling himself the hero of the day in having
furnished such a comedy.
Suddenly Steve turned, perhaps with some intuition of what was going
on, and with swift comprehension knew that he was being made fun of.
His face on the instant was electrified with wrath. He drew himself
up, and clenched his hands. Then in a twinkling his coat and cap were
upon the ground. Taking the first boy at hand Steve dealt him a blow
from the shoulder with a lean, sinewy arm that sent him spinning
across the yard, and before any one could realize what was happening
three or four others followed, and the rest, frightened at his fury,
took to their heels with speed.
Steve stood alone at last quivering from head to foot; then calming
slowly, he took his coat on his arm, put on his cap and walked away,
not knowing whither he was going. But as he grew more quiet he took
his bearings, and his keen sense of direction and good recollection of
things they had passed in going, led him without trouble back to Mr.
Polk's rooms.
Raymond was not a cad, and when he had time to think was thoroughly
ashamed of himself. He went to the teacher and made confession; then
as both were afraid the boy might get lost or come to some harm, he
went at once on a search. He did not dream that Steve could so
directly find his way back, and Raymond wandered about for hours in a
fruitless search, doing without his dinner. At last, frightened and
contrite, he went to Mr. Polk's office. Here the confession was harder
to make, but it came out in all its humiliating details. Having eased
his conscience he wound up with a burst of enthusiasm: "I tell you,
Mr. Polk, Steve's got the stuff in him. There isn't a fellow in school
but thinks he is fine. We didn't mean a thing by our fun, but he
served us just right, and every fellow wants to take his paw."
Mr. Polk said little but sending Raymond home and promising to
telephone later, he went directly to his rooms, knowing Steve's keenly
intuitive mind better than Raymond. Though anxious until it was proven
true, Mr. Polk found Steve as he had expected, seated in his rooms
when he got there. But he saw a most dejected little figure. The new
clothes were laid aside, the old mountain things were on, and the
boy's face was drawn and white, though he fronted Mr. Polk sturdily.
"I don't belong in no town. I ain't got no town ways. I'll jes' go
back to Hollow Hut and stay thar."
Mr. Polk put his arm about the boy and gently drew him to a seat. For
some moments there was silence.
"Steve," he said at last, "did the trip over the mountains from Hollow
Hut to Mr. Follet's sometimes seem hard for you?"
"Hit shore did," said the boy slowly.
"But you didn't give up the struggle, did you?"
"No," said Steve, still slowly.
"Well, the journey of life is like that journey over the mountains: it
is often hard; there are things to overcome and things to endure. You
have started now up the long, hard hill of learning, and I hope you
are not going to turn back at the laughter of a few boys. You thrashed
them out, I understand," he went on, and his voice held a strong hint
of satisfaction; "pass right on now, putting the incident behind you
just as you did each rocky summit you mounted on that difficult
journey. You must climb to the top, son, understand; nothing short of
that will satisfy me!" And he looked earnestly, almost vehemently into
the boy's eyes.
The penetrating gaze was returned, but with a puzzled, groping inquiry
for his benefactor's full intent.
"Yer mean I mus' larn as much as you know?" he asked at last.
"More,--infinitely more," said Mr. Polk with energy. "I have half-way
climbed the mountain of knowledge and success in life,--I have even
stopped less than half-way," he corrected a little bitterly, "but,"
rousing himself, "I want to begin life over again in you, and nothing
but the very top of the mountain of success will ever satisfy me!" He
turned again to the boy with a deep, searching gaze.
"You are a boy of your word," he went on after a moment, "that is what
pleased me most about you, and now at the very outset of this business
of learning and succeeding in life, I want your promise that you will
not halt before obstacles, but go to the top!"
There was impelling enthusiasm as well as energy in the resonant
tones, and Steve's spirit kindled with answering enthusiasm and a
glimmering vision of heights which he had not hitherto glimpsed.
"I'll git ter the top, Mr. Polk,--ef I don't die on the way," he said
with solemn earnestness.
It was a most unexpected, peculiarly intense moment for both, and in
the silence which followed, the imagination of boy and man scaled
lofty peaks, but the mountain of material success which filled Mr.
Polk's vision was not the beautiful, mystic height upon which the boy
gazed, and neither dreamed of the conflict which this fact was to
bring about in future years.
"God hath set eternity in the heart of man," and the child of the
woods felt the stirring of an eternal purpose, undefined though it
was. The glamour of the world had long since intervened for the man.
The telephone rang noisily, having no respect for visions, and Mr.
Polk rose to answer it while Steve began at once to put on again the
new clothes in unconscious ratification of his solemn life-promise to
Mr. Polk.
It was Mrs. Colton at the phone and she learned with great relief that
Steve had been found. She insisted that Mr. Polk and the boy must come
over to supper, after which there would be a little impromptu party of
Raymond's friends for Steve.
The boy looked very sober when this announcement was made to him, but
Mr. Polk smiled and said heartily, as he had already done to Mrs.
Colton:
"Of course we will go!" And they went.
There was just a bit of awkwardness when the boys came into the
Coltons' that evening and met Steve once more, but Mr. Polk, with an
adroit question, started him to telling them about trapping rabbits,
chasing foxes and treeing coons while the boys became so interested,
including Steve himself, that all unpleasantness was forgotten. Upon
leaving, each boy took Steve's hand with real respect and liking, and
Raymond expressed the general sentiment when he exclaimed, "You're a
brick!"
Next day Mr. Polk and Steve started for the mountain school. As they
sat together on the train Steve said: "I'll be larnin' to do things
jes' like mammy said fer me ter do. I wonder ef she will know."
"I think so," said Mr. Polk simply, but with a gentle sympathy in his
voice, which, whenever expressed by look or tone, seemed to bring the
boy close to the heart of the man. Resting a moment in this embrace,
Steve asked a question which had come to him several times. His father
and all the mature men he had known had been married,--for bachelors
are rare in the mountains,--why had Mr. Polk no wife?
"Is ye woman dead, Mr. Polk?" was the question he asked.
"No," answered Mr. Polk, with a smile that flitted quickly, "she did
not marry me at all, and so has left me lonely all my life. I would
have been a far better man had she done so. As it is," and the
bitterness crept into his voice again, "I stopped half-way up the hill
of success as I told you, and threw my prospects away. That is why you
are to live my life over for me and bring success whether or no."
VIII
OPPORTUNITY
Mr. Polk and Steve made their railroad trip by night, and the sleeper
with its rows of shelf-like beds was a fresh experience for the boy,
but he climbed to the upper berth and slept the sleep of healthy
youth. They reached L---- about seven o'clock in the morning, and the
sight of mountain and valley spread out before them in purple beauty
gave a strange thrill of joy to Steve. The mountaineer's love of the
mountains rushed upon him after all his new, pleasant experiences with
a first consciously defined emotion.
"Well," said Mr. Polk, "now the problem is how we can cover that forty
miles which lies between us and our school." But just at that moment
he spied an old man helping a woman into a wagon, and at once he
stepped up, found they were fortunately going to the same point, and
would gladly take in two passengers with the ready accommodation of
mountain people.
They travelled leisurely on and on, Steve seeing things of a familiar
type and Mr. Polk much that was fresh and interesting. They stopped
over night at a little settlement and journeyed on again next day,
reaching their destination early in the evening. When the group of
school buildings came into view, the old mountaineer pointed out the
main building with its tower, and told them which was the "gals'
sleepin' place," and which "the boys' sleepin' place," as he termed
the two dormitories. He drove directly to the president's home, a
little unpainted frame house. They were cordially received,
entertained at supper and taken afterwards to the boys' dormitory,
where Steve was given a room with several other boys. Then they walked
over to "The Hall," as it was called, and were introduced to the
teachers, who were gathering there for the study hour. They had met
several when a young woman's trim, slender figure, with a decided air
of the city about it, appeared in the doorway, and the light from
within lit up a pair of clear, steady brown eyes, a pleasant mouth
with firmness lurking in the corners, and fluffy brown hair put back
in a roll from a very attractive face.
She stood a moment there in the doorway with a casual glance for the
strangers, then suddenly caught her breath and went white, but
instantly recovered herself as the president, oblivious of any tragic
moment for her, turned and said:
"This is Miss Grace Trowbridge; she came down here all the way from
New York City to teach mountain boys and girls,--and she knows how to
do it, too."
Miss Trowbridge bowed and passed quickly within the hall.