THE HEADWATERS OF THE HARRAPIN
"Ready, Frank?" asked Ralph West, as they stood on the ice Christmas
morning, with a dozen other fellows enjoying the frosty air.
"Just a few seconds. That left skate is always more trouble to get
fastened than the other. I suppose it's because I'm clumsy with it.
There you are. Now, let's get away, Ralph. I've got a lunch in my
pocket, in case we don't find a chance to pick up anything to eat on
our long trip."
Frank stamped his feet several times to induce circulation. It was
wonderful how the fair weather held out. The oldest inhabitant could
not remember a longer stretch during any winter in the past. Day after
day passed, and still the sky remained blue, and the mercury hovered
far below the freezing point.
Away the two boys went. They took it easy at the start, as might be
expected from so wise a fellow as Frank.
"I've always heard it said that when you have a day's journey ahead it
is foolish to press a willing horse at the start. Better warm up to it
slowly. So, as we are in no hurry, Ralph, suppose we just move along at
this steady pace. Time enough to hit it up later," remarked the one who
took the lead.
"It's a grand Christmas day," observed Ralph, drawing in a long breath,
and looking at his companion with a gleam in his eye that Frank could
easily understand.
"Yes, and I hope it may bring you the wish of your heart, old fellow.
Perhaps before you go to bed to-night something may have come into your
life that you've been hoping for a long time," he said, softly, yet
nodding his head cheerfully.
"That would be the greatest thing ever. Oh! I hope that if not to-day
it will come to-morrow, or the day after! I'm growing nervous waiting,
Frank."
"There's the island above. Wonder if we'll find Bill still on deck?"
remarked the other, wishing to change the subject; for he saw that
Ralph was really showing signs of the long-continued strain.
Presently Ralph cried out:
"There's somebody fishing there at the place you said. Is that Bill?"
"It looks like him. Yes, there he's waving his hand. I guess he knows
me better than I do him. We'll stop a few minutes to chat. Lanky has
got me all worked up about the fellow, too, and I'm wondering if I
could ever have met him before. But I'm not going to ask him point
blank. Lanky would say I was interfering in his preserves. Let him
think it out if he prefers."
The lone fisherman was apparently glad to see Frank.
He seemed a little more cheerful than before. Perhaps things were
looking up in hoboland. At any rate he grinned, and when Frank held out
his hand he wiped his own palm on his trousers before accepting it.
"I want to thank you for doing us that little favor Saturday morning,"
said the boy, and the other acted as though a bit confused.
"Oh! you mean about that Lef Seller gang. That's all right. I just
happened to hear 'em talkin', and thought I'd like to tell Lanky about
it. You fellers acted square toward me the other day; but they talked
as if they'd like to jump me if they just dared. I wish they had. I was
just achin' for trouble then. Feel a little better now. They's times,
you know, when you just seem like nawthin' could fix you up but a
scrap; and I ain't a fighter naturally, either," went on Bill, who had
resumed the tending of several fish lines he had dropped through holes
chopped in the ice.
"But perhaps you know something about telephones?" suggested Frank,
casually.
He was surprised to see the tramp actually turn red in the face, though
just why he should was a complete mystery.
"Why, yes, I did uster to have somethin' to do with 'em long ago. What
got that idee in your head. Frank?" asked the man, quickly.
"Only because the clerk in the drug store said you acted as if you
belonged to the repair gang that was up here a week ago. He had an idea
you might be," replied Frank.
"Socrates hit it wrong, then, Socrates did," said the other, with a
half grin; and then one of his lines gave evidence of having a fish
fast he started to draw it in hand over hand, until he threw upon the
ice a fine plump pickerel that would weigh at least two pounds.
"If 'twas later I'd ask you boys to stop over and have a bite of camp
fare with me; but p'raps you wouldn't hanker much after such grub as
I could set before you. When a feller has only his appetite along he
don't care much about fancy fixin's. All he wants is enough to eat and
drink. I've been a tramp a long time now, and yet I'd quit to-morrow if
I only could get the chanct. I'm right sick of it all."
Bill went on to relate some of his queer experiences while on the
road; and he had evidently seen a host of remarkable adventures. But
not once did he refer to his past life beyond the time he joined the
knights of the railroad track and the highway.
"He's either ashamed of it, or else there's something there that he
finds it unpleasant to remember," was Frank's inward comment, on
noticing this fact.
During the ten minutes they stood there watching him, Bill pulled in
three fish, all of fair size.
"Sure you bring me good luck, Frank; wish it would carry round to some
other things, I do," declared the hobo, with a significant look on his
face.
"By the way," remarked Frank, as they prepared to move along, "better
keep an eye out for a short, dark-faced man with a terrible eye. He
answers to the name of Bill Brockholt, and has just escaped from the
penitentiary over at Lauderville. Just as like as not he might wander
along this way, and want to share your bunk here, as a sort of retired
nest where they wouldn't be apt to look for him."
"All right; I'll keep an eye out for the chap. Never heard about him.
What's he been doing to get locked up?" asked the other, and Frank
could not see any indication that he cared particularly about the
matter.
"Oh! he's a bad egg, and the Chief says there's a reward of three
hundred dollars out for him. Worth hauling in, Bill?" suggested Frank.
"Sure, and I'll collar it if so be he comes this way. So-long, Frank.
Dinner at twelve, sharp. Remember that, if you happen along. 'Taint a
genuine Christmas feed, but beggars ain't got a right to be choosers.
If I had my way I'd be in a different place to-day. Luck's agin me, I
reckon. They've gone, and I'm out in the cold!"
With that they left him there, muttering to himself. Frank had caught
those significant last sentences. He really began to feel something of
the same curiosity creep over him that had captured Lanky.
"He speaks my name as if he had known me a long time. Lanky said the
same; and there's Lef Seller, he seems to be on to his ways from the
ground up. Besides, he mentioned the drug clerk's name. Now, you see he
doesn't pay any attention to you, Ralph. That may be because you're a
newcomer in Columbia; only been here a year and a half, all told. H'm!
I wonder if he is somebody we once knew? Lanky declares it is so, and
I'm beginning to think so too."
But he was determined that he would not be so foolish as his friend,
and allow the perplexing mystery to annoy him. So he cast it away, and
started to speak of other things connected with their morning sport.
Presently they reached Clifford.
Here another batch of skaters was to be seen, more than below.
Clifford, as has been said before, was given over wholly to winter
sports; and every boy and girl seemed to vie in becoming an
accomplished skater.
Some of them knew Frank, and called out a greeting as he came up.
Perhaps they anticipated that his errand might be in connection with
the challenge that he had himself carried to the high school of the
upper town but a few days previous.
"Going to back down, Allen? Taking water? Hope not, for we've got it in
for you Columbia boys, day after to-morrow!" one fellow cried out.
Frank only laughed, and shook his head.
"He's come up here to pick up points on our team's playing!" shouted
another lad, skating up eagerly to see what was going on.
"Go chase yourself, Tommy Dodd. Frank Allen doesn't sneak around that
way. He's a clean sport, Frank is, and does things on the level, if
he does live in poor old Columbia," cried a third fellow, wearing the
Clifford colors on his hat.
"Thanks awfully for that, Dakes. But don't go to pitying Columbia.
She's got all she can stand now, taking care of the honors she's won
this year. When we sweep up your clever seven in hockey it means that
everything belongs to us this year. We're just on our way further up
the river, and must be off. Be good to yourselves, and bring plenty of
handkerchiefs along day after to-morrow. You may need 'em."
With this sort of chaff Frank waved his hand to the group. Then he and
Ralph slipped away, and in a few minutes, turning a bend, they lost
sight of the Clifford crowd.
A few miles above this town the Harrapin began to get smaller. The
banks came closer together, and the surrounding country became much
wilder.
When noon arrived they had gone about as far as was advisable. The ice
was not so good, and the stream had become a mere winding creek.
"This is about the limit; suppose we call a halt here," suggested
Frank, as he sat down upon a tree that very conveniently hung very low
from the bank, offering a seat.
"Where are we, do you suppose?" asked Ralph.
"I fancy about twenty miles from Columbia by water, and perhaps
fourteen as the crow flies. The stream twists and turns around like
a snake up here. The railroad is near by, too. We've been ascending
all the time. Look there, you can just get a glimpse of a distant
smoke-stack. Know what that is? The penitentiary over at Lauderville."
"That's the place the convict escaped from, isn't it?" asked Ralph,
quickly.
"Yes, but we needn't think anything about that," laughed the other.
"Well, all the same, somebody's coming along like hot cakes. I can hear
skates cutting the ice to beat the band. There, I had a glimpse of him
through the bushes just then," went on Ralph.
"So did I," laughed Frank; "and do you know who it is? Just wait till
he rounds that point below, and be ready to shout. There he comes! Now,
what do you think?"