DICK HALLIARD IS ASTOUNDED
There were hopes until the following morning that Bob Budd might have
escaped the flood. The fact that one of the Piketon Rangers had
managed with help to extricate himself gave slight grounds for belief
that a second had been equally fortunate.
This hope grew less and less as the night passed, and the people
wandering up and down the valley, hallooing and calling the name of
Bob, received no response. Only a few retained the slightest
expectation of ever seeing him again.
Long before morning broke the flood had spent its force. Such a vast
outlet as the sweeping away of most of the bank was like the sliding
doors which admit passengers to the ferryboat. It was of such extent
that the supply quickly ran out.
In the middle of the valley, where the whole force of the torrent was
felt, large trees had been uprooted and hurled forward with a momentum
which helped to uproot others in turn.
The prodigious power rapidly diminished as the ground rose on either
side, until it was seen that the trunks were able to hold their own.
There was considerable dislocation of vegetation, so to speak, but
nothing to be compared to that in the middle of the valley.
The sheet of water had been plentifully stocked with fish, which were
now scattered everywhere along the valley, napping in little pools of
water as they did on the muddy bottom of the pond itself. It was a
veritable picnic for the small boys.
Captain Jim Budd was on the ground as soon after he heard of the loss
of Bob as he could reach the place. He was thoughtful enough to
arrange matters so that his wife should learn nothing of the
occurrence until his return. He placed a trusted friend on guard to
keep busy mongers from her.
Captain Jim was the contrast of Mr. Wagstaff as regarded the youth in
whom he was interested. He proclaimed to every one that Bob was not
only the brightest, but the best principled boy in Piketon and the
neighborhood. Had he lived he would have made his mark in the law or
ministry or whatever profession he chose to honor with his attention.
He had always been truthful, honest, and obedient, and his loss was in
the nature of a general calamity.
It seems incredible that a man of sense should talk in this fashion,
and not only utter such words, but believe them. The reader, however,
who has heard other parents talk, can credit the statement that such
was the fact.
The first thing that Captain Jim did, after learning the facts, was to
offer a reward of one thousand dollars for the recovery of the body of
his nephew. No doubt, he said, the whole neighborhood would insist on
attending his remains to the grave, that they might render a fitting
tribute to one thus cut off in the prime of his promising young
manhood. The Captain, therefore, felt it his duty to defer to so
proper a desire. He would erect a monument over the remains, to which
parents might impressively point, as they urged their offspring to
emulate the virtues of Robert Budd.
The large reward offered for the recovery of the body resulted in the
employment of fully a hundred and sometimes more people, who roamed up
and down the narrow valley through which the flood had swept from
early morning until darkness forced a cessation of the search.
Some three miles below the bursted dam the valley widened to fully
double its width. There naturally the current expanded and lost the
tremendous power displayed above. Most of this portion, like the rest,
was covered with trees, so that places innumerable existed where a
body might be hidden, thus making it almost impossible to find it
unless by a fortunate accident.
The surprise was general that the search should be prosecuted so long
and so thoroughly without result. It seemed that every foot of ground
had been covered and no spot left unvisited. The bushy tops of trees,
prostrate trunks, timbers, undergrowth, shrubbery, rifts of leaves,
and, indeed, everything that looked as if it could hide a body as
large as a dog were examined again and again, but without the
slightest success.
An excitement was roused by the report, the second day after the
search had been instituted, that the body had been recovered, but it
proved to be the remains of a heifer that was unfortunately caught in
the swirl and was unable to save herself.
Gradually the belief spread that Bob Budd’s remains would never be
found, and most of the searchers gave up the task. A few, prompted by
the promise of a still larger reward, kept at it, hoping that some
lucky chance might give them the opportunity to earn more money than
they could do otherwise in several years.
The disappointment was a sorrowful one to Captain Jim Budd and his
wife Ruth, the news having been broken to the latter. They could not
reconcile themselves to the thought that their beloved nephew should
be denied the last rites that were paid to the humblest individual;
and while all knew the character of the missing young man, they deeply
pitied his relatives.
Dick Halliard returned to his duties in the store of Mr. Hunter more
thoughtful than ever before. He was grateful that McGovern had shown
so strong a resolution of reforming his life and turning from his evil
ways, but it was shocking to recall that Wagstaff and Bob Budd were
placed beyond the power of undoing the evil they had committed.
Bob, as we have shown, was a native of Piketon, and had spent most of
his life there. He was an only son, who was left a considerable
fortune by his father, who appointed Uncle Jim Budd his guardian. This
old gentleman, though he sometimes flared up and threatened Bob
because of his extravagance and waywardness, was foolishly indulgent.
Whatever firmness he might have shown at times in dealing with his
nephew was spoiled by his wife, who refused the young man nothing that
was in her power to grant. Bob was not naturally vicious, and his
relatives were largely responsible for his going wrong.
One cause for deep satisfaction on the part of Dick was the wonderful
proof of the truth of the words spoken by Dr. Armstrong, when the
youth summoned him hastily to the bedside of his parent. From that
evening there was a marked improvement in his condition, and his
convalescence was steady until, in the course of a few months, he was
completely restored to health and vigor.
After thinking over the question for a day or two, Dick decided to
tell his parents everything. They had learned of what had occurred,
and he believed it would be a pleasure to them to be told that one
result of the blow was the reformation of McGovern.
Such was the fact, but the greatest happiness that could come to the
father and mother was that of learning the nobility of their boy, who
had conducted himself so admirably through more than one crisis, more
trying than most youths older than he are ever called upon to face.
Matters stood thus at the end of a week after the flood, when Dick
Halliard was surprised by the reception of a letter from New York. He
did not recognize the handwriting, and broke the seal with no little
curiosity. A glance at the bottom of the page showed the name of Jim
McGovern as the writer.
“My dear Dick,” he said, after giving the particulars of the funeral
over the remains of Wagstaff, “I can never tell you how deeply
grateful I am to you; I am not one of those who gush, and will not say
more except to repeat a remark which my father made when I had told
him all. ‘There is no earthly honor,’ said he, ‘which could be given
me, that I would not surrender for the sake of having a son like
Richard Halliard.’ Considered strictly as a compliment, I think you
will admit, Dick, that _that_ has some weight. I know your
modesty, but I must beg you as a favor to me to read all my letter up
to this point, when you must stop, for here comes something which is a
secret for the present between you and me. You will not give a hint of
it to any one.
“Come to think, however, there is no secret that I’m going to reveal
in the letter, but I will tell you the next time we meet that will
make your hair lift your hat. I want you to get permission right away
from Mr. Hunter to come to New York for a couple of days. Telegraph me
what time you will reach here, and I will meet you at the station and
take you home. If anything should happen to prevent my being there on
time come to No. — Madison Avenue, give your name, and wait for me. My
folks will be delighted to receive you, and you will not be kept long
waiting.
“I have arranged to enter Yale at the next term. I shall need to brush
up in my studies, but I’m confident I’ll get there all the same, if
you’ll excuse a little slang which still clings to me. But above all
things, come to New York _as soon as you can_. I promise you will
not regret it.”
As may be supposed, Dick Halliard found more than one cause for
surprise in this letter. The first was the fact that the writer
possessed a much better education than he suspected. The composition
was not only correct as regards grammar, punctuation, and spelling,
but the statement of his decision to enter Yale College showed the
advantages the youth had received, and which were far superior to what
would be supposed by one who heard McGovern discourse when a member of
the Piketon Rangers.
But Dick was shrewd, and, although he respected the request of the
writer that nothing should be revealed about the letter, he suspected
the nature of the “secret” to which he referred in such strong
language.
“Jim is in the flush of a mistaken sense of gratitude to me,” he said
to himself, “and he has persuaded his father to feel very much the
same way. They want to get me down there to their home, that they may
all see and tell me how thankful they are, and perhaps they mean to
make me a present of some kind. I don’t think I’ll go.”
Nothing could be more distasteful to young Halliard than a proceeding
of the kind he had in mind. It is no misstatement to say that he would
have preferred to receive personal chastisement to that of being made
a lion of by any one.
And yet he disliked to disappoint Jim, who was so strenuous in his
invitation. He would be grieved and repeat it more urgently than
before until further refusal would offend him.
“I’ll go!” finally concluded the youth, “but I will give Jim to
understand from the beginning that, if he attempts to show me off or
to tell others anything about me, or tries to force a testimonial on
me, I will take the next train home and forever afterward keep him at
arm’s length.”
With this resolution in his mind, he went to Mr. Hunter’s private
office and asked him whether he could be spared from the store a
couple of days.
“We should miss you at _any_ time,” said the genial merchant,
resting his hand affectionately on his shoulder; “but there is no
request that Richard Halliard can make of me which I will not
cheerfully grant if it is in my power to do so. Yes, take a couple of
days off, and a week if you wish, and may you have as good a time as
you deserve, young man.”
Dick blushed under this warm compliment, and, thanking his employer,
went home, where he told his parents of McGovern’s request, and
secured their consent to his departure.
Jim met him at the station with a carriage, and drove him hurriedly
homeward. After the warm greeting Dick wanted to warn him about the
lion and testimonial business, but reflected that it would be in bad
taste, since it was possible that Jim held no such intentions. In that
event he would resemble the politician who declines the honor that has
never been offered him.
McGovern seemed restless and uneasy on the way, often forcing an
unnatural gayety, which did not deceive his friend, of whom he showed
such extreme fondness.
Dick admired the handsome residence before which the carriage halted,
and it was with considerable awe that he followed Jim up the broad
stone steps, and was ushered into his father’s library. McGovern
showed commendable taste in not presenting his visitor to the members
of the household immediately on his arrival.
“But I have a friend in the library,” he said, as he led the way
thither, “that I think you will be glad to meet.”
A young man rose to his feet, and came briskly forward.
“How are you, Dick?”
“Heaven save me!” gasped Dick Halliard, in amazement, recognizing the
smiling youth as no other than Bob Budd himself!