orchard for some reason or other. When the doctor returned at lunch time
his orchard was ringing with laughter, and good-natured barks from Watch
who could not feel easy in his mind with his mistress so high up in a
tree where he couldn't follow.
Dr. McAllister paused in the garage long enough to give a sniff to the
boiling cherries in the kitchen, and then made his way to the orchard,
where he received a warm welcome.
"There's no use in your going home to lunch," he smilingly observed, at
the same time watching Henry's face carefully. "You can eat right here
in the orchard, unless your mother will be worrying about you."
This remark met with an astounding silence. Henry was the first to
collect his wits. "No, our mother is dead," he said evenly, without
embarrassment.
It was the doctor who hastened to change the subject he had introduced.
"I smelled something when I came in," he said to Benny.
"What did it smell like?" inquired Benny.
"It smelled like cherry slump," replied the doctor with twinkling eyes.
"Cherry _what_?" asked Jess, struggling down her ladder with a full
basket.
"I think that's what they call it--slump," repeated Dr. McAllister. "Do
you care to try it?"
At this moment Mary appeared in the orchard with an enormous tray. And
at the first sight of her cookery, nobody cared the least what its name
was. It was that rare combination of dumpling beaten with stoned
cherries, and cooked gently in the juice of the oxheart cherries in a
real "cherry year." It was steaming in the red juice, with the least
suspicion of melted butter over the whole.
"Do get two more, Mary," begged Mrs. McAllister, laughing. "It tastes so
much better under the cherry trees!"
This was another meal that nobody ever forgot. Even the two hired men
sitting under another tree devouring the delicious pudding, paused to
hear Benny laugh. Nowadays those two men sometimes meet Henry--but
that's another story. Anyway, they never will forget that cherry slump
made by Irish Mary.
Almost as soon as lunch was over Benny rolled over on the grass and went
to sleep, his head, as usual, on the dog's back. But the others worked
on steadily. Mrs. McAllister kept an eye on them from the screened porch
without their knowledge.
"Just see how those children keep at it," she said to her son. "There is
good stuff in them. I should like to know where they come from."
Dr. McAllister said nothing. He sauntered out into the orchard when he
thought they had worked long enough. He paid them four dollars and gave
them all the cherries they could carry, although they tried to object.
"You see, you're better than most pickers, because you're so cheerful."
He noticed that they did not all leave the yard at the same time.
When the cherry pickers returned to their little home they examined
everything carefully. Nothing had been disturbed. The door was still
shut, and the milk and butter stood untouched in the refrigerator. They
made a hilarious meal of raw cherries and bread and butter, and before
the stars came out they were fast asleep--happy and dreamless.
That evening, very much later, a young man sat in his study with the
evening paper. He read the news idly, and was just on the point of
tossing the paper aside when this advertisement caught his eye:
Lost. Four children, aged thirteen, twelve, ten and five. Somewhere
around the region of Middlesex and Townsend. $5000 reward for
information.
JAMES HENRY CORDYCE
"Whew!" whistled the young man. "James Henry Cordyce!"
He sat in perfect silence for a long time, thinking. Then he went to
bed. But long after he had gone upstairs he whistled again, and could
have been heard to say-if anyone had been awake to hear it--"James Henry
Cordyce! Of all people!"
THE RACE
The Cordyce Steel Mills stood a little aside from the city of
Greenfield, as if they were a little too good to associate with common
factories. James Henry Cordyce sat in a huge leather chair in his
private office. He was a man nearly sixty years of age whose dark brown
hair was still untouched by gray. He had rather hard lines around his
mouth, but softer ones around his eyes. Printed on the ground-glass top
of his door were these words in black and gold:
J. H. CORDYCE--President
_Private_
Once a year J. H. Cordyce allowed himself a holiday. If he had a
weakness, it was for healthy boys--boys running without their hats, boys
jumping, boys throwing rings, boys swimming, boys vaulting with a long
pole. And in company with three other extremely rich men he arranged,
once a year, a Field Day for the town of Intervale. The men attended it
in person, and supplied all the money. This was Field Day.
All through the spring and early summer months, boys were in training
for miles around, getting ready for Intervale's Field Day. And not only
boys, but men also, old and young, and girls of all ages into the
bargain. Prizes were offered for tennis, baseball, rowing, swimming,
running, and every imaginable type of athletic feat. But usually the
interest of the day centered on a free-for-all race of one mile, which
everyone enjoyed, and a great many people entered. A prize of
twenty-five dollars was offered to the winner of this race, and also a
silver trophy cup with little wings on its handles. Sometimes this cup
was won by a middle-aged man, sometimes by a girl, and sometimes by a
trained athlete. Mr. Cordyce smiled about his eyes as he closed his
desk, ordered his limousine, and went out and locked the door of his
office. The mill had been closed down for the day. Everyone attended
Field Day.
Henry was washing the concrete drives at Dr. McAllister's at this
moment. He heard the doctor call to him from the road, so he promptly
turned off the hose and ran out to see what was wanted.
"Hop in," commanded the doctor, not stopping his engine. "You ought to
go to see the stunts at the athletic meet. It's Field Day."
Henry did not wish to delay the doctor, so he "hopped in."
"Can't go myself," said Dr. McAllister. "I'll just drop you at the
grounds. There's no charge for admittance. You just watch all the events
and report to me who wins."
Henry tried to explain to his friend that he ought to be working, but
there was actually no time. And when he found himself seated on the
bleachers and the stunts began, he forgot everything in the world except
the exciting events before his eyes.
Henry had no pencil, but he had an excellent memory. He repeated over
and over, the name of each winner as it appeared on the huge signboard.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when the free-for-all running race was
announced.
"What do they mean--free-for-all?" asked Henry of a small boy at his
side.
"Why, just anybody," explained the boy, curiously. "Didn't you ever see
one? Didn't you see the one last year?"
"No," said Henry.
The boy laughed. "That was a funny one," he said. "There was a college
runner in it, and a couple of fat men, and some girls--lots of people.
And the little colored boy over there won it. You just ought to have
seen that boy run! He went so fast you couldn't see his legs. Beat the
college runner, you know."
Henry gazed at the winner of last year's race. He was smaller than
Henry, but apparently older. In a few minutes Henry had quietly left his
place on the bleachers. When the boy turned to speak to him again, he
was gone.
He had gone, in fact, to the dressing room, where boys of all sizes were
putting on sandals and running trunks.
A man stepped up to him quickly.
"Want to enter?" he asked. "No time to waste."
"Yes," replied Henry.
The man tossed him a pair of white shoes and some blue trunks. He liked
the look of Henry's face as he paused to ask in an undertone, "Where did
you train?"
"Never trained," replied Henry.
"I suppose you know these fellows have been training all the year?"
observed the man. "You don't expect to win?"
"Oh, no!" replied Henry, apparently shocked at the idea. "But it's lots
of fun to run, you know." He was dressed and ready by this time. How
light he felt! He felt as if he could almost fly. Presently the
contestants were all marshalled out to the running track. Henry was
Number 4.
Now, Henry had never been trained to run, but the boy possessed an
unusual quantity of common sense. "It's a mile race," he thought to
himself, "and it's the second half mile that counts." So it happened
that this was the main thought in his mind when the starter's gong
sounded and the racers shot away down the track. In almost no time,
Henry was far behind the first half of the runners. But strangely
enough, he did not seem to mind this greatly.
"It's fun to run, anyhow," he thought.
It was fun, certainly. He felt as if his limbs were strung together on
springs. He ran easily, without effort, each step bounding into the next
like an elastic.
After a few minutes of this, Henry had a new thought.
"Now you've tried how _easy_ you can run, let's see how _fast_ you can
run!"
And then not only Henry himself, but the enormous crowd as well, began
to see how fast he could run. Slowly he gained on the fellow ahead of
him, and passed him. With the next fellow as a goal, he gradually crept
alongside, and passed him with a spurt. The crowd shouted itself hoarse.
The field all along the course was black with people. Henry could hear
them cheering for Number 4, as he pounded by. Six runners remained ahead
of him. Here was the kind of race the crowd loved; not an easily won
affair between two runners, but a gradual victory between the best
runner and overpowering odds. Henry could see the finish-flag now in the
distance. He began to spurt. He passed Numbers 14 and 3. He passed 25,
6, and 1 almost in a bunch. Number 16 remained ahead. Then Henry began
to think of winning. How much the twenty-five dollar prize would mean to
Jess and the rest! Number 16 _must_ be passed.
"I'm going to win this race!" he said quietly in his own mind. "I'll
bet you I am!" The thought lent him speed.
"Number 4! Number 4!" yelled the crowd. Henry did not know that the
fellow ahead had been ahead all the way, and just because he--Henry--had
slowly gained over them all, the crowd loved him best.
Henry waited until he could have touched him. He was within three yards
of the wire. He bent double, and put all his energy into the last
elastic bound. He passed Number 16, and shot under the wire.
Then the crowd went wild. It scrambled over and under the fence,
cheering and blowing its horns. Henry felt himself lifted on many
shoulders and carried panting up to the reviewing stand. He bowed
laughing at the sea of faces, and took the silver cup with its little
wings in a sort of dream. It is a wonder he did not lose the envelope
containing the prize, for he hardly realized when he took it what it
was.
Then someone said, "What's your name, boy?"
[Illustration: _Henry felt himself lifted on many shoulders_]
That called him to earth. He had to think quickly under cover of getting
his breath.
"Henry James," he replied. This was perfectly true, as far as it went.
In a moment the enormous signboard flashed out the name:
HENRY JAMES No. 4. AGE 13
WINNER OF FREE-FOR-ALL
Meanwhile the man of the dressing room was busy locating Mr. Cordyce of
the Cordyce Mills. He knew that was exactly the kind of story that old
James Henry would like.
"Yes, sir," he said smiling. "I says to him, 'You don't expect to win,
of course.' And he says to me, 'Oh, no, but it's lots of fun to run, you
know.'"
"Thank you, sir," returned Mr. Cordyce. "That's a good story. Bring the
youngster over here, if you don't mind."
When Henry appeared, a trifle shaken out of his daze and anxious only to
get away, Mr. Cordyce stretched out his hand. "I like your spirit, my
boy," he said. "I like your running, too. But it's your spirit that I
like best. Don't ever lose it."
"Thank you," said Henry, shaking hands. And there was only one in the
whole crowd that knew who was shaking hands with whom, least of all
James Henry and Henry James.
MORE EDUCATION
With twenty-five dollars in his hand, Henry felt like a millionaire as
he edged through the crowd to the gate.
"That's the boy," he heard many a person say when he was forced to hold
his silver cup in view out of harm's way.
When Dr. McAllister drove into his yard he found a boy washing the
concrete drives as calmly as if nothing had happened. He chuckled
quietly, for he had stopped at the Fair Grounds for a few minutes
himself, and held a little conversation with the score-keeper. When
Henry faithfully repeated the list of winners, however, he said nothing
about it.
"What are you going to do with the prize?" queried Dr. McAllister.
"Put it in the savings bank, I guess," replied Henry.
"Have you an account?" asked his friend.
"No, but Jess says it's high time we started one."
"Good for Jess," said the doctor absently. "I remember an old uncle of
mine who put two hundred dollars in the savings bank and forgot all
about it. He left it in there till he died, and it came to me. It
amounted to sixteen hundred dollars."
"Whew!" said Henry.
"He left it alone for over forty years, you see," explained Dr.
McAllister.
When Henry arrived at his little home in the woods with the twenty-five
dollars (for he never thought of putting it in the bank before Jess saw
it), he found a delicious lunch waiting for him. Jess had boiled the
little vegetables in clear water, and the moment they were done she had
drained off the water in a remarkable drainer, and heaped them on the
biggest dish with melted butter on top.
His family almost forgot to eat while Henry recounted the details of the
exciting race. And when he showed them the silver cup and the money they
actually did stop eating, hungry as they were.
"I said my name was Henry James," repeated Henry.
"That's all right. So it is," affirmed Jess. "It's clever, too. You can
use that name for your bank book."
"So I can!" said Henry, delighted. "I'll put it in the bank this very
afternoon. And by the way, I brought something for dinner tonight."
Jess looked in the bag. There were a dozen smooth, brown potatoes.
"I know how to cook those," said Jess, nodding her head wisely. "You
just wait!"
"Can't wait, hardly," Henry called back as he went to work.
When he had gone, Benny frolicked around noisily with the dog.
"Benny," Jess exclaimed suddenly, as she hung her dish towels up to dry,
"it's high time you learned to read."
"No school _now_," said Benny hopefully.
"No, but I can teach you. If I only had a primer!"
"Let's make one," suggested Violet, shaking her hair back. "We have
saved all the wrapping paper off the bundles, you know."
Jess was staring off into space, as she always did when she had a bright
idea.
"Violet," she cried at last, "remember those chips? We could whittle out
letters like type--make each letter backwards, you know."
"And stamp them on paper!" finished Violet.
"There would be only twenty-six in all. It wouldn't be awfully hard,"
said Jess. "We wouldn't bother with capitals."
"What could we use for ink?" Violet wondered, wrinkling her forehead.
"Blackberry juice!" cried Jess. The two girls clapped their hands.
"Won't Henry be surprised when he finds that Benny can read?"
Now from this conversation Benny gathered that this type-business would
take his sisters quite a while to prepare. So he was not much worried
about his part of the work. In fact, he sorted out chips very cheerfully
and watched his teachers with interest as they dug carefully around the
letters with the two knives.
"We'll teach him two words to begin with," said Jess. "Then we won't
have to make the whole alphabet at once. Let's begin to teach him
_see_."
"That's easy," agreed Violet. "And then we won't have to make but two
letters, _s_ and _e_."
"And the other word will be _me_," cried Jess. "So only three pieces of
type in all, Violet."
Jess cut the wiggly _s_, because she had the better knife, while Violet
struggled with the _e_. Then Jess cut a wonderful _m_ while Violet
sewed the primer down the back, and gathered a cupful of blackberries.
As she sat by, crushing the juice from the berries with a stick, Jess
planned the ink pad.
"We'll have to use a small piece of the wash-cloth, I'm afraid," she
said at last.
But finally they were obliged to cut off only the uneven bits of cloth
which hung around the edges. These they used for stuffing for the pad,
and covered them with a pocket which Violet carefully ripped from her
apron. When this was sewed firmly into place, and put into a small
saucer, Jess poured on the purple juice. Even Benny came up on his hands
and knees to watch her stamp the first _s_. It came out beautifully on
the first page of the primer, purple and clean-cut. The _e_ was almost
as good, and as for the _m_, Jess' hand shook with pure pride as she
stamped it evenly on the page. At last the two words were completed. In
fact, they were done long before Benny had the slightest idea his
sisters were ready for him.
He came willingly enough for his first lesson, but he could not tell the
two words apart.
"Don't you see, Benny?" Jess explained patiently. "This one with the
wiggly _s_ says _see_?" But Benny did not "see."
"I'll tell you, Jess," said Violet at last. "Let's print each word again
on a separate card. That's the way they do at school. And then let him
point to _see_."
The girls did this, using squares of stiff brown paper. Then they called
Benny. Very carefully, Jess explained again which word said _see_,
hissing like a huge snake to show him how the _s_ sounded. Then she
mixed the cards and said encouragingly, "Now, Benny, point to
_s-s-s-ee_."
Benny did not move. He sat with his finger on his lip.
But the children were nearly petrified with astonishment to see Watch
cock his head on one side and gravely put his paw on the center of the
word! Now, this was only an accident. Watch did not really know one of
the words from the other. But Benny thought he did. And was he going to
let a dog get ahead of him? Not Benny! In less time than it takes to
tell it, Benny had learned both words perfectly.
"Good old Watch," said Jess.
"It isn't really hard at all," said Benny. "Is it, Watch?"
During all this experiment Jess had not forgotten her dinner. When you
are living outdoors all the time you do not forget things like that. In
fact both girls had learned to tell the time very accurately by the sun.
Jess started up a beautiful little fire of cones. As they turned into
red-hot ashes and began to topple over one by one into the glowing pile,
Jess laughed delightedly. She had already scrubbed the smooth potatoes
and dried them carefully. She now poked them one by one into the glowing
ashes with a stick from a birch tree. Whenever a potato lit up
dangerously she gave it a poke into a new position. And when Henry found
her, she was just rolling the charred balls out onto the flat stones.
"Burned 'em up?" queried Henry.
"Burned, nothing!" cried Jess energetically. "You just wait!"
"Can't wait, hardly," replied Henry smiling.
"You said that a long time ago," said Benny.
"Well, isn't it true?" demanded Henry, rolling his brother over on the
pine needles.
"Come," said Violet breathlessly, forgetting to ring the bell.
"Hold them with leaves," directed Jess, "because they're terribly hot.
Knock them on the side and scoop them out with a spoon and put butter on
top."
The children did as the little cook requested, sprinkled on a little
salt from the salt shaker, and took a taste.
"Ah!" said Henry.
"It's good," said Benny blissfully. It was about the most successful
meal of all, in fact. When the children in later years recalled their
different feasts, they always came back to the baked potatoes roasted in
the ashes of the pine cones. Henry said it was because they were poked
with a black-birch stick. Benny said it was because Jess nearly burned
them up. Jess herself said maybe it was the remarkable salt shaker which
had to stand on its head always, because there was no floor to it.
After supper the children still were not too sleepy to show Henry the
new primer, and allow Benny to display his first reading lesson. Henry,
greatly taken with the idea, sat up until it was almost dark, chipping
out the remaining letters of the alphabet.
If you should ever care to see this interesting primer, which was
finally ten pages in length, you might examine this faithful copy of
its first page, which required four days for its completion:
[Illustration:
page 1
See
me
See me
O O See me
Come
Come to me
Come to see me
cat
rat
]
Henry always insisted that the rat's tail was too long, but Jess said
his knife must have slipped when he was making the _a_, so they were
even, after all.
GINSENG
What Dr. McAllister ever did before Henry began to work for him would be
hard to guess.
There were certainly as many duties always waiting for him as he had
time to do. And it made no difference to the industrious boy what the
job was. Nothing was too hard or too dirty for him to attempt.
One day the doctor set him at the task of clearing out his little
laboratory. The boy washed bottles, pasted labels, and cleaned
instruments for one whole morning. And more than one broken flask on its
way to the rubbish heap was carefully carried up the hill to the hidden
family.
While Henry was busy carefully lettering a sticky label, he noticed a
young man in the outer office who was talking with the doctor.
"Can you tell me if this is real ginseng?" Henry heard him say.
"It certainly is," returned Dr. McAllister. "They will give you two
dollars a pound for the root at any of the drug stores."
Henry ventured to steal a peep, and found he could readily see the plant
the man was holding. It was about a foot high with branching leaves and
a fine feathery white flower. Henry knew it was exactly the same white
puffball that he had noticed in Violet's vase that very morning.
When the young man had gone, Henry said, "I know where I can find a
whole lot of that plant."
"Is that so?" replied the doctor kindly. "It's only the root, you know,
that is valuable. But any one who wants the bother of digging it up can
sell any quantity of that."
When Henry went home at noon he related enough of this incident to set
his sisters to work in good earnest. They started out with both knives
and two strong iron spoons, and the kettle. And with Benny to run about
finding every white flower he could, the girls succeeded, with a great
deal of hard digging, in finding enormous quantities of ginseng root. In
fact that first afternoon's work resulted in a kettle full, not counting
a single leaf or stem. Henry was delighted when he saw the result of
their work, and took it next day to the largest drug store, where he
received three dollars for the roots.
Without any hesitation Henry paid a visit to the dry-goods store, and
came home with a pair of new brown stockings for Benny. That was a great
day in the woods. Benny gave them no peace at all until they had admired
his wonderful new stockings, and felt of each rib.
There had been one other thing that Benny had given them no peace about.
On the night when the children had crept so quietly away from the
baker's wife, Jess had forgotten to take Benny's bear. This bear was a
poor looking creature, which had once been an expensive bright-eyed
Teddy-bear made of brown plush. But Benny had taken it to bed every
single night for three years, and had loved it by day, so that it was
not attractive to any one but himself. Both eyes were gone, and its body
was very limp, but Benny had certainly suffered a great deal trying to
sleep in a strange bed without his beloved bear.
Jess, therefore, had plans on foot, the moment she saw Benny's new
stockings. She washed the old brown stockings with their many neat
darns, and hung them up to dry. And early in the afternoon she and
Violet sat with the workbag between them, each with a stocking.
With Benny sitting by to watch proceedings, Jess mapped out a remarkable
Teddy-bear. One stocking, carefully trimmed, made the head and body,
while the other furnished material for two arms, two legs, and the
stuffing. Jess worked hard over the head, pushing the padding well into
the blunt nose. Violet embroidered two beautiful eyes in black and
white, and a jet black nose-tip.
"You must make a tail, too, Jessy," said Benny, watching her snip the
brown rags.
"Bears don't have tails, Benny," argued Jess--although she wasn't
exactly sure she was right. "Your old bear didn't have any tail, you
know."
"But _this_ bear has a tail, though," returned Benny, knowing that Jess
would put on two tails if he insisted.
And it was true. His bear finally did have a tail.
"What _kind_ of tail?" asked Jess helplessly at last. "Bushy, long and
slim, or cotton-tail?"