A STRANGE CONFESSION
"Say, Jack," began Nat at breakfast a little later, "what are you going
to the village for?"
"Got to get something Aunt Angelina sent me," replied our hero. "I got a
letter saying she had forwarded me a package by express. It's got some
heavy underwear in it for one thing, but I know enough of my aunt to
know that's not all that's in it."
"What else?"
"Well, I shouldn't be surprised if there were some pies and doughnuts
and cakes and----"
"Quit!" begged Bony, who sat on the other side of Jack. "You make me
hungry."
"What's the matter with this grub?" inquired Jack.
"Oh, it's all right as far as it goes----"
"Smithering slaboleens!" exclaimed Nat. "Doesn't it go far enough in
you, Bony?" and he looked at his tall chum. "Do you want it to go all
the way to your toes?"
"No; but when I hear Jack speak of pies and doughnuts----"
"You'll do more than hear me speak of them if they come, Bony," went on
Jack. "We'll have a little feast in my room to-night, when Martin, the
monitor, is gone to bed."
"When are you going?" asked Nat.
"Right after dinner. Want to come along? I guess you can get permission.
I did."
"Nope. I've got to stay here and bone up on geometry. I flunked twice
this week, and Doc. Mead says I've got to do better. Take Bony."
"Not for mine," said Bony, shivering as he looked out of the window and
saw the snow still coming down. "I'm going to stay in."
"Then I'll go alone," decided Jack, and he started off soon after the
midday meal. The storm was not a severe one, though it was cold and the
snow was quite heavy. It was a good three-mile walk to the village, but
Jack had often taken it.
He was about a mile from the school, and was swinging along the country
road, thinking of many things, when, through the white blanket of
snowflakes, he saw a figure just ahead of him on the highway.
"That looks familiar," he said to himself. "That's Will Williams. Wonder
what he can be doing out here? Guess he's going to town also. I'll catch
up with him. I wish I could get better acquainted with him, but he goes
in his shell as soon as I try to make friends."
He hastened his pace, but it was slow going on account of the snow. When
Jack was about a hundred yards behind Will he was surprised to see the
odd student suddenly turn off the main road and make toward a chain of
small hills that bordered it on the right.
"That's queer," murmured Jack. "I wonder what he's doing that for?"
He stood still a moment, looking at Will. The new boy kept on, plodding
through the snow, which lay in heavy drifts over the unbroken path he
was taking.
"Why, he's heading for the ravine," said Jack to himself. "He'll be lost
if he goes there in this storm, and it's dangerous. He may fall down the
chasm and break an arm or a leg."
The ravine he referred to was a deep gully in the hills, a wild,
desolate sort of place, seldom visited. It was in the midst of thick
woods, and more than once solitary travelers had lost their way there,
while one or two, unfamiliar with the suddenness with which the chasm
dipped down, had fallen and been severely hurt.
"What in the world can he want out there?" went on Jack. "I'd better
hail him. Guess he doesn't know the danger, especially in a storm like
this, when bad holes are likely to be hidden from sight."
He hurried forward, and then, making a sort of megaphone of his hands,
called out:
"Williams! I say, Williams, where are you going?"
The new boy turned quickly, looked back at Jack, and then continued his
journey.
"Hey! Come back!" yelled our hero. "You'll be lost if you go up in those
hills. It's dangerous! Come on back!"
Williams stopped again, and turned half around.
"Guess he didn't hear me plainly," thought Jack. "I'll catch up to him.
Wait a minute," he called again, and he hastened forward, Will waiting
for him.
"Where are you going?" asked Jack, when he had caught up to him.
"I don't know," was the answer, and Jack was struck by the lad's
despondent tone.
"Don't you know there's a dangerous ravine just ahead here?" went on
Jack. "You might tumble in and lose your life."
"I don't care if I do lose my life," was the unexpected rejoinder.
"You don't care?" repeated Jack, much surprised.
"No."
"Do you realize what you're saying?" asked Jack sternly.
"Yes, I do. I don't care! I want to be lost! I never want to see any
one again! I came out here--I don't care what becomes of me--I'd like to
fall down under the snow and--and die--that would end it all!"
Then, to Jack's astonishment, Will burst into tears, though he bravely
tried to stifle them.
"Well--of all the----" began Jack, and words failed him. Clearly he had
a most peculiar case to deal with. He took a step nearer, and put his
arm affectionately around Will's shoulder. Then he patted him on the
back, and his own voice was a trifle husky as he said:
"Say, old man, what's the matter? Own up, now, you're in trouble. Maybe
I can help you. It doesn't take half an eye to see that's something's
wrong. The idea of a chap like you wanting to die! It's nonsense. You
must be sick. Brace up, now! Tell me all about it. Maybe I can help
you."
There was silence, broken only by Will's half-choked sobs.
"Go ahead, tell me," urged Jack. "I'll keep your secret, and help you if
I can. Tell me what the trouble is."
"I will!" exclaimed the new boy with sudden determination. "I will tell
you, Jack Ranger, but I don't think you can help me. I'm the most
miserable lad at Washington Hall."
"You only think so," rejoined Jack brightly. "Go ahead. I'll wager we
can make you feel better. You want some friends, that's what you want."
"Yes," said Will slowly, "I do. I need friends, for I don't believe I've
got a single one in the world."
"Well, you've got one, and that's me," went on Jack. "Go ahead, now,
let's hear your story."
And then, standing in the midst of the storm, Will told his pitiful
tale.
"My father and mother have been dead for some time," he said, "and for
several years I lived with my uncle, Andrew Swaim, my mother's brother.
He was good to me, but he had to go out West on business, and he left me
in charge of a man named Lewis Gabel, who was appointed my guardian.
"This Gabel treated me pretty good at first, for my uncle sent money
regularly for my board. Then, for some reason, the money stopped coming,
and Mr. Gabel turned mean. He hardly gave me enough to eat, and I had to
work like a horse on his farm. I wrote to my uncle, but I never got an
answer.
"Then, all at once, my uncle began sending money again, but he didn't
state where he was. After that I had it a little easier, until some one
stole quite a sum from Mr. Gabel. He's a regular miser, and he loves
money more than anything else. He accused me of robbing him, and
declared he wouldn't have me around his house any longer.
"So he sent me off to this school, but he doesn't give me a cent of
spending money, and pays all the bills himself. He still thinks I stole
his money, and he says he will hold back my spending cash, which my
uncle forwards, until he has made up the amount that was stolen.
"I tried to prove to him that I was innocent, but he won't believe me.
He is always writing me mean letters, reminding me that I am a thief,
and not fit for decent people to associate with. I'm miserable, and I
wish I was dead. I got a mean, accusing letter from him to-day, and it
made me feel so bad that I didn't care what became of me. I wandered
off, and I thought if I fell down and died under the snow it would be a
good thing."
"Say, you certainly are up against it," murmured Jack. "I'd like to get
hold of that rascally guardian of yours. But why don't you tell your
uncle?"
"I can't, for I don't know his address."
"But he sends money for your schooling and board to Mr. Gabel, doesn't
he?"
"Yes, but he sends cash in a letter, and he doesn't even register it. I
wrote to the postal authorities of the Western city where his letters
were mailed, but they said they could give me no information."
"What is your uncle doing in the West?"
"He is engaged in some secret mission. I never could find out what it
is, and I don't believe Mr. Gabel knows, either. Oh, but Gabel is a mean
man! He seems to take delight in making me miserable. Now you know why I
act so queerly. I like a good time, and I like to be with the fellows,
but I haven't a cent to spend to treat them with, and I'm not going to
accept favors that I can't return. Why, I haven't had a cent to spend
for myself in six months!"
Jack whistled.
"That's tough," he said. "But say, Will, you're mistaken if you think
our crowd cares anything for money. Why didn't you say something about
this before?"
"I--I was ashamed to."
"Why, we thought you didn't like us," went on Jack. "Now I see that we
were mistaken. I wish we had Mr. Gabel here. We'd haze him first, and
throw him into the lake afterward. Now, Will, I'll tell you what you're
going to do?"
"What?" asked the lad, who seemed much better in spirits, now that he
had made a confession.
"In the first place, you're coming to the village with me," said Jack.
"Then you're going to forget all about your troubles and about dying
under the snow. Then, when I get a bundle from home, you're coming back
with me, and----"
"Home!" exclaimed Will with a catch in his voice. "How good that word
sounds! I--I haven't had a home in so long that--that I don't know what
it seems like."
"Well, we're going to make you right at home here," went on Jack. "I'm
expecting a bundle of good things from my aunt, and when it comes, why,
you and me and Nat and Sam and Bony and Fred and Bob, and some other
choice spirits, are going to gather in my room to-night, and we're going
to have the finest spread you ever saw. I'll make you acquainted with
the boys, and then we'll see what happens. No spending money? As if we
cared for that! Now, come on, old chap, we'll leg it to the village, for
it's cold standing here," and clapping Will on the back, Jack linked his
arm in that of the new boy and led him back to the road.