SAD NEWS FOR MARY VERN.
“Dead!” Larry uttered the word mechanically as he stared at the printed
lines before him. “Dead! Poor Mary Vern, what will become of her?”
“What’s the matter?” asked Willie, seeing the anxious look on our
hero’s face.
“A gentleman I knew well was killed in that railroad accident in
England—the gentleman whose daughter I aided at the hotel fire.”
“Is that so? Was his girl with him?”
“No, she is, I believe, still stopping at Ferryville.”
“It’s rough on her, ain’t it?” asked Willie, sympathetically.
“Yes, very rough. She and her father were alone in the world.”
Larry walked off in a very sober frame of mind. Since coming to the
city he had thought of pretty Mary Vern many times. It cut him to the
heart to think of what she must endure.
“I wish I could do something for her,” he thought.
He resolved to call upon her as soon as he got to Ferryville.
But when he journeyed to the town up the river and called at the hotel,
he found that Mary Vern had already received the sad news and had left
for New York City.
Kate was also interested, and wished she could do something for the
motherless and fatherless girl.
Kate sold off several things, and had others packed up so that the load
to be taken to New York was a small one.
Larry spent a good two hours in packing up the model of the extension
ladder along with his tools. Then he and Kate went around to bid their
friends goodby.
“Going to be a New York fireman after all, eh?” said Gus Romer.
“Well, I wish you all the success in the world,” and many others said
practically the same thing.
Saturday evening was spent around Ferryville, and while Kate went to
call on a lady friend, Larry strolled down through the main street of
the town, and out upon one of the docks.
As he walked along he was seen by Lank Possy and several of the bully’s
intimate cronies.
“There goes that Larry Barlow!” muttered the bully. “My, but ain’t he
stuck on himself since that hotel fire.”
“He’s going to leave town, Lank,” put in one of the others. “Say, you
ought to give him a dressing down before he goes.”
“That’s the talk,” cried a third of the crowd. “We’ll stand by you,
Lank.”
At these words Lank Possy’s face took on a look of cunning.
“Will you fellows stick by me if I tackle him?” he asked. “I know I can
handle him alone, but he might play me foul.”
“Of course we’ll stick by you,” was the answer.
“Did we ever go back on you?” put in another. “I would like first rate
to see Barlow get whipped.”
Soon the crowd of four worthless young fellows followed after Larry.
When our hero gained the end of the dock he came to a halt. It was
a beautiful night. Although there was no moon, there were countless
stars in the heavens, and these twinkled like so many diamonds in the
flowing water.
Presently Larry heard footsteps behind him, and found himself
confronted by Lank Possy and his cronies.
“What do you want?” he demanded, not pleased by the threatening
attitude of the quartet.
“I’m a-goin’ to get square with you!” hissed Possy, doubling up his
fists.
“Keep your distance, Possy, or you’ll get hurt!” answered Larry, as he
glanced around.
The dock was a long one, and deserted save for himself and his enemies.
If it came to a fight, it might be a case of one to four, and each of
his opponents was as big or bigger than himself.
“When last we met you didn’t fight fair,” blustered Lank Possy. “I am
going to get square for it.”
“I did fight fair,” retorted Larry. “But it looks to me as if this
wasn’t going to be a fair thing,” he added.
“We’ll see fair play,” growled one of Lank’s cronies. “So keep your
bouquets to yerself, Larry Barlow.”
Without warning, Lank Possy aimed a savage blow at our hero’s head.
Larry ducked and hit out in return, landing on the bully’s shoulder.
Then, as if by agreement, the quartet of rascals hurled themselves upon
Larry and bore him down.
They not only hit him, but also kicked him most brutally, until he was
more than half unconscious.
The struggle had taken the crowd to the very edge of the dock, and now
one of the number slipped and came near to going overboard.
He tried to save himself by clutching Larry’s leg, and in an instant
more both fell into the river with a loud splash.
“Shanner is overboard!” sang out one of the others, in horror.
“So is Larry Barlow!”
“Never mind Barlow!” cried Lank Possy. “Throw Shanner a rope or
something.”
But a rope was not handy, and the best that those on the dock could do
was to throw overboard a heavy plank which was handy.
As the plank landed, it struck Larry on the forehead. It was a cruel
blow, and for the time being our hero knew no more.
“Save me! save me!” spluttered Shanner, as he threw up his arms wildly.
“Save me! I can’t swim!”
“Catch the plank!” cried his friends, and as the plank bobbed up at his
side, Shanner did so and clung fast with the grip of death.
“Don’t—don’t leave me!” he gasped. “Haul me in, or get a boat!”
Much alarmed, Lank Possy and the others ran to one side of the dock and
procured a boat which was tied up there.
There were no oars, but some clapboards were handy, and they broke a
long one in half and used the parts for make-shift oars.
Soon they got to where Shanner was drifting and without much trouble
hauled him into the boat.
But the current of the river was strong, and soon the boat was being
carried out into midstream.
“This won’t do!” exclaimed Lank Possy. “Pull for the shore.”
“The boards won’t stay in the rowlocks,” growled one of his cronies.
“Then paddle.”
None of the young fellows was used to handling a boat, consequently it
took a good ten minutes to gain the dock once more and tie up.
Shanner had suffered but little from his wetting, but the tumble
overboard had almost scared him to death.
“I’ve had enough of—of this!” he gasped, with chattering teeth. “I’m
going home.”
“Where’s Barlow?” questioned another of the crowd suddenly.
In the excitement of saving Shanner, and in getting back to the dock,
they had forgotten Larry entirely.
All began to look around in alarm, but not a trace of our hero could be
found.
“He must have swum ashore and run away,” said Lank Possy.
But at this another of the crowd shook his head.
“No, I was watching the dock,” he said. “He didn’t go ashore—at least,
not around here.”
At this each one of the crowd gave a shiver.
“If he’s gone they’ll arrest us for this!” whispered one of the
fellows.
“We must keep this affair a secret,” put in Lank Possy, hastily.
“That’s it,” added Shanner. “Mum’s the word.”
“But his sister will be wondering what became of him,” said a lad named
Anderson. “They are going to move out of town in a day or two.”
“That’s none of our affair, Teddy,” said Lank Possy. “Mum’s the word.”
A shiver went the round. They turned back to the end of the dock and
took a long look up and down and across the stream. Not a soul was in
sight! “It does look as if he was a goner!” muttered one of the crowd.
Yet all were unwilling to believe that our hero had really disappeared.
Half an hour was spent on and around the dock, but all to no purpose.
“It’s no use,” sighed one of the lads. “We are in for it. Wonder what
the authorities will say when they learn that he is missing?”
“Come away!” muttered Lank Possy, hoarsely.
In a minute more the boys separated, each to go home with the feeling
in his heart that he had done a great wrong.