RALPH HEARS SOMETHING
Ralph had become cautious by this time.
“Two narrow squeaks, and the third time may see me held tight,” he said
to himself, as he crouched there, looking around.
He knew positively that the anxious sophomores were hiding everywhere
about, their eyes on the barn where the freshmen had vanished, bearing
their dinner with them. How to creep away undetected was a question for
the lad to solve. He found where the darkness lay most heavily, and
laid out his line of retreat accordingly.
He was just about to rise when he thought he had crept far enough away,
when he heard a fluttering of the bushes near by.
“Are the birds all in the coop?” asked an unseen crouching figure.
Ralph knew that he had been taken for one of the second-year boys. His
ready wit came to the front, so that he instantly replied:
“Yes. And the captain wants you all to creep in closer. I’m rounding
the gang up. Move along!”
He came near laughing aloud to see not one, but three shadowy forms
crawling off in the direction of the barn, and leaving the path free
for the escaping freshman.
“Ta! ta! and many thanks!” whispered Ralph, as he waved a hand after
the last of these figures.
Then he started away, and it must be a pretty clever sprinter who could
overtake him now, once he made a break. In several directions he heard
low voices calling, as though the hidden sophomores wondered who it
could be running along the road. But there was no pursuit made, for
which the already weary Ralph felt glad.
He had gone through with a tremendous amount of mental and physical
strain that day, and had no desire to continue with another series of
adventures.
So he presently arrived in the near vicinity of the cabin home of Sam
Smalling.
“There’s a light in the window,” he muttered, as he drew near; “and
that looks as if he expected me.”
Ralph was shivering, not with the cold, or even because of his double
adventure that night, but with apprehension. He dreaded lest a
disappointment might await him. Perhaps, after all, the story Smalling
had to tell might not shed any particular light on his history.
Another thing that had begun to give him anxiety. He wondered whether
he might not be the child of that same Arnold Musgrove, and that from
some cause or other his father was ashamed to own him!
Bracing himself, he stepped up to the door of the humble cabin.
Hardly had he knocked before the door was opened.
“Glad to see you, Ralph. I began to think you wasn’t going to turn up,
it was getting so late,” said the man, holding out his hand and drawing
him inside.
“I was delayed on the way. Our class is giving a spread to-night, and
the sophs got hold of me, making me a prisoner. I had some trouble
breaking away. Then I had to go and warn the fellows so they might
not be taken by surprise. But after all it isn’t much after half-past
eight, sir.”
Ralph while speaking was looking around.
“Surprised to see me alone here? Well, to tell the truth I was ashamed
to let the missus know what a mean thing I done aways back, and I got
her to take all the kids and go over to stay with a neighbor to-night.
The woman’s sick, and my wife can make herself useful there. I wanted a
clear field, because I’ve got something to say I’m mighty much ashamed
of,” said Smalling, slowly.
“Before you tell me anything I think I ought to let you know what’s
happened to me since I met you this afternoon.”
So saying, Ralph rapidly narrated what the New York lawyer had told
him. The man listened eagerly, though his manner was rather moody.
“Yes,” he said as Ralph finished, “it all seems to agree with what I
know, only I wasn’t so sure about them names. The man called himself
Andrew Jackson when he hired me to help him out years back. Money
tempted me; and besides, at that time I hadn’t met the woman that
helped me get the better of my drink habit. Mind, I ain’t makin’
excuses for what I done. It was a low game, and I’ve often thought
about it since, wondering what had come of the baby I helped kidnap!”
“Oh!”
Ralph could not keep back that one exclamation. It seemed to him
that he must either be dreaming, or else deep in some romance. That
these matters were connected with his own life seemed bordering on an
absurdity.
“You must be about fourteen now, Ralph, I judge. It was nigh that time
back that I fell in with a gentleman who seemed to have plenty of
money, and wanted some one to help him play a little game. As I said,
at that time I was drinking hard, and conscience seldom bothered me; so
I joined forces with him, and together we did the business.
“He brought the baby to me in the night. It was a boy about three
months old, and even if he had dressed it in ragged and dirty clothes,
I knew that it must have come from some family away up in life. It had
the looks of an aristocrat.
“I obeyed orders, and carried that kid far away from New York. Up
here in the country I left it in charge of an old woman for a month.
That was to wait till all the hue and cry had died out, you see, and
was according to my orders. Then I took the baby and left him at the
poorhouse door!”
Again Ralph sighed. It seemed to him that he was in a trance. Smalling
had allowed his head to fall forward upon his chest, as though he could
hardly bear to look into the eyes of the lad he had injured so deeply.
“Oh! please go on! How did you know that I was taken by the Wests, and
called Ralph? Tell me everything--I must know all, now!” pleaded the
boy, with his voice quivering.
Smalling looked up.
“I’m going to tell everything now, Ralph, because I’m sorry I ever had
a hand in this game. I can see now what that scoundrel was after, and
how he used me as a tool. Even if I go to jail for it, I’m going to
tell the truth!”
He brought his fist down upon his knee as he spoke in this manner.
“Three years afterward I just chanced to be up in these parts again for
a little stay. To tell you the ugly truth, I was hiding from the police
at that time. While here I remembered about that kid, and asked a few
cautious questions. In that way I learned that the Wests had adopted
you, and that they called you Ralph. And when I heard that they were
a good family, and would treat you white, why, I just kinder let the
thing slip out of my mind, believing that you’d be happy without ever
knowing that they wasn’t your real parents.
“I admit that more’n once I tried to find that gent. Them times was
when I was hard up and thought I might threaten him into giving me some
more coin. But he seemed to have covered his tracks too well for me. I
reckon I hunted New York all over thinking to see him, but it was no
go. Now I suppose it was because he kept on the other side of the ocean
most of the time.”
“Then you remember what he looked like, do you?” asked Ralph, eagerly.
At this Sam Smalling chuckled.
“It’s better than that, my boy, far better. I’ve got a picture of my
benevolent employer, took in the queerest way you ever heard of.”
He drew out an old pocketbook, and rummaging through this found a small
piece of cardboard which he handed to the boy.
Ralph uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
The photograph was weak, having either faded from age, or else because
of insufficient light at the time of taking; but it was easy to
distinguish in one of the two figures a man who much resembled Sam
Smalling.
“Why, isn’t this you?” demanded Ralph.
“No other. And that chap standing there is Mr. Andrew Jackson, as he
called himself, which I believe is the same as Mr. Arnold Musgrove,”
replied the man.
“But what is he handing you--that bundle?” gasped the boy, suspecting
the truth.
“That was _you_, Ralph, the poor little baby that he wanted to have
disappear! Yes, this picture was taken at just the minute he gave you
to me. You wonder how that could ever happen, and I’ll tell you. I was
bunking at the time with a drunken photographer, and he knew what I was
going to do. It was his suggestion that he try and get a picture of the
man of money. I remember we had a hazy notion that it might help us to
get money out of the chap later on.”
“And he managed it, then?” asked Ralph, wondering; for flashlights were
hardly in use so far back, and this picture showed no signs of having
been taken in that fashion.
“He did, though I don’t know how. The click of the machine startled
my employer, and he came near dropping the baby; but I told him it was
a window creaking upstairs in the old building, and he believed it.
But after all the picture never did either of us any good, for I never
could find Mr. Jackson again to ask a loan on the strength of it,” and
the man laughed disdainfully.
“But now the picture promises to come in valuable to me. Oh! will you
please let me have it to give to Mr. Allen, who is going to carry my
case out for me?”
“Certain I will. And, Ralph, though it may cost me dear I stand ready
to testify to my part in this here rascally game when the time comes.
I give you my word on that, lad, come what will,” said Sam Smalling,
resolutely.
Ralph squeezed his hand when he replied.
“Perhaps it may not be necessary at all. I promise you that you will
not be brought into the matter if it can be helped; and Judge Allen
will find a way, with this picture to help out, I’m sure. Oh! I wonder
how that man could have been so cruel. And do you really think that his
sister, this widow, Mrs. Langworthy, can be--_my mother_.”
“That’s what it seems like, and you can make up your mind to it, money
was at the bottom of his game when he stole you and had me take you
away. Sounds like a story out of the books, but I guess people to-day
ain’t a bit different from old times.”
“I’m glad I came here to-night; and, Mr. Smalling, after what you’ve
said and done don’t think I’m going to hold it against you. I’m too
happy myself to want to make anybody suffer. And later on I expect to
drop in here to see you again, you and little Mary,” said the boy,
rising to go, for he was now just as anxious to see and consult with
Judge Allen as he had been to reach Sam Smalling’s home.
“I’ll expect you, Ralph. I’m glad this happened as it did. It’s just
Fate, that’s what! But the best of luck go with you, lad; and remember
to call on me if there’s any hitch to the game. Good night, Ralph, good
night.”