A MOTHER'S SACRIFICE
Friday afternoon had come, and the game at the park was over.
Although the scratch team organized by Mr. Leonard to oppose the
Regulars put up a strong fight, they were virtually "snowed under" by
the splendid playing of Hugh and his six comrades.
The experienced coach seemed very well satisfied. He openly
complimented the lads after the contest had been carried to its
finish.
"You are doing splendid work, fellows," he told them, with a look of
pride on his face; "and the way you played this afternoon was worthy
of any Montreal Seven that ever toured the East to show how they do
things up there in Canada at their favorite winter sport. And the
boys who fought tooth and nail to hold you back, I congratulate them
also; for they did excellent work. It was no disgrace to be beaten
in that game; few hockey teams could have held their own against such
fine play. Keep it up to-morrow, and there need be no doubt as to
who the winners will be."
It can be easily understood that Hugh and Thad were feeling in a
particularly good humor then, as they started to walk to town after
the game, having an errand there before going home.
"I haven't had a fair chance to say a word with you to-day, Hugh,"
the latter broke out with, once they were alone; "and I'm awfully
anxious to hear how that poor young woman at your house is coming
along. Has she spoken yet, and told who she is, and where she came
from?"
Hugh shook his head in the negative.
"Never a word as yet, Thad. Fact is, Doctor Cadmus says she mustn't
be worried by questions for several days, possibly."
"Then she's still wandering in her mind, is she, Hugh?"
"Yes, and saying all sorts of things about her girlhood days, as well
as about her husband, who, mother thinks, must have come to his death
in some accident. She calls him Joey, too, just like the boy. It
must be a family name, we imagine. So mother is content to wait
until she is better, when she will tell all she wants us to know."
"Then you didn't bother taking that wise tip I gave you, Hugh?" and
Thad's voice had a little ring of disappointment about it.
"Oh! I was up early this morning, and, as the road out there seemed
so hard and firm, the snow being packed down solid, I just jumped on
my wheel, and took a little run up in that direction. It wasn't so
easy, once I struck in on that side road, but I managed to pedal
along somehow."
"There are a number of houses on that road, I chance to know, Hugh;
the Simms live there, likewise the Thompsons and the Garrabrants."
"I managed to reach those three houses," Hugh continued; "but it
didn't pay me, so far as results went, though I enjoyed the run all
right."
"From that I imagine nobody had seen the woman and child yesterday
afternoon coming along that particular road, eh, Hugh?"
"No one could remember having met or seen such a person," Hugh told
him; "and as strangers are uncommon in these parts they would surely
have noticed her if she passed their doors. So I came to the
conclusion, as I couldn't even find the marks of her shoes in the
snow along the road, that she must have come over from Belleville
way, and was in the woods at the time I first went by, which would
account for my not meeting her."
"To change the subject, Hugh, I notice that Nick still fights shy of
the rest of the crowd these days. He was skating on the ice to-day;
but absolutely declined to take part in the game; though Mr. Leonard,
wanting to make the opposition as strong as possible so as to put us
to our best licks, went over and talked with him, trying to coax Nick
to join the line-up. What makes him act that way, Hugh? One would
think Nick'd be glad of the chance to play."
"He would, Thad, he certainly would, because he enjoys hockey as much
as you or myself; but I reckon Nick, for the first time in all his
life, finds himself afflicted with shyness. You see, he knows people
don't, as a rule, believe in this sudden reformation. They can't
have any faith in a fellow who's fooled them so often before. And
that makes him want to keep away. Nick is fighting it out all by
himself. If we knew all the wonderful things that he's grappling
with these days I imagine we'd sympathize with the poor fellow, Thad."
"Hugh, you may be right. Already I'm beginning to feel sorry for
saying some of the mean things I did when first we guessed Nick was
trying to turn over a new leaf. It must be terrible hard for a boy
who's always been bad to change around and face the other way."
"Stop and think, Thad. Take the case of that Jean Valjean, for
instance. Now, he underwent a complete change of heart, and from
being a beast, hating humanity, he grew to love other people, and be
ready to sacrifice himself to save another. You remember how he
voluntarily gave himself up to the law in that courtroom scene, just
to save a miserable wretch who was about to be punished under the
belief that he was the genuine Jean Valjean."
"Yes, but Hugh, he was unknown when he fought his battle, and won
out. Besides, he had the money he received for the silver the priest
gave him, with which to get a start in the world. But Nick here is
known, and people point their fingers at him with scorn, and talk
openly about his playing another of his pranks."
"That was just what I had in mind when I spoke, Thad. Nick has the
harder row of the two to hoe. And if he wins out he'll deserve a lot
of praise, I tell you. But see who's coming along here in a rig,
will you?"
"Why, it's good old Deacon Winslow, the blacksmith weather prophet;
and, Hugh, isn't he beckoning to us right now?"
"Just what he is; let's cross over and see what he wants with us,"
Hugh immediately went on to say; for, as has been intimated before in
these pages, he had come to feel a great interest in the brawny
smith, and wanted to cultivate a closer acquaintance with him; there
was something so genial, so wholesome about the owner of the
crossroads smithy.
"Jump in and go along with me, lads," sang out Mr. Winslow, as they
came up. "I'm bound around to the home of Mrs. Disney on a little
errand; and, since you two are interested, I thought you might like
to help me explain to the poor woman that I want to go on her boy's
bail. It's a shame he has to stay in the lockup all this time,
waiting for his trial to come off."
The chums exchanged quick looks.
"How about it, do we go along, Hugh?" asked Thad.
For answer the other hopped up alongside the deacon, and, of course,
Thad did likewise. Since the Disney home was not far away they were
quickly at the door, and knocking for admittance.
Leon's mother answered the summons. She looked frightened at seeing
the huge bulk of the blacksmith there, and the two boys with him.
But no sooner had he spoken in his kindly fashion than the anxious
expression fled from her pale face.
"Please excuse me for dropping in on you, Mrs. Disney," said the
deacon, after they had been ushered into the humble sitting-room,
where a wood-fire burned on the hearth; "but I just couldn't stand it
any longer. I want to stand bail for your boy, so you can have him
home again with you till his trial comes off."
Leon's mother looked embarrassed. She twisted her apron in her
nervous fingers, and seemed very near the point of tears.
"Oh! it's kind of you, Deacon Winslow, indeed it is!" she finally
exclaimed, as she looked up at the smiling, sympathetic big man;
"but, after all I think it is better that Leon remained where he is
though it almost breaks my heart to say it."
Thad looked astonished, but Hugh nodded his head, as though he could
understand what was back of those words so strange for a mother to
speak. Deacon Winslow was also considerably surprised, it seemed.
"But the bail bond is only for a thousand dollars, madam," he said;
"and I can afford to put that up for his appearance in court later."
"Thank you again and again for your kindness to a poor woman, and a
mother, sir!" she exclaimed with a half-suppressed sob in her voice;
"but there does not seem to be any doubt about my boy's guilt, much
as I hate to acknowledge it. His association with that Lang boy has
been his ruin. And he would be likely to run away, to try and escape
his just punishment, so that the bail bond would be forfeited."
"But even so it wouldn't ruin me, Mrs. Disney," continued the deacon;
"and I hate to think of you sitting here, and crying your eyes out
because he is locked up."
She looked straight at him then, as she went on to say bravely:
"But, sir, I am thinking of what will eventually become of my boy.
If he runs away now he will sink lower and lower, until he commits
some terrible crime, it may be. But Dominie Pettigrew tells me that
if he goes to the Reform School there is a chance that he may come
out later on completely changed in heart, and ready to play his
honest part in the world. No, I have thought it all over, and prayed
to be led to do what is best for my Leon. I cannot accept your
offer, though you mean it in all kindness. For his sake I will wait
until his time has expired, and continue to hope it may be the making
of my poor boy."
Deacon Winslow did not attempt to urge her. Indeed, he could hardly
say anything, for he was half choking with emotion. But he squeezed
her hand, and gave her a look that must have carried some comfort to
her poor distracted heart.
Once outside, the boys shook hands with the big man. Hugh was
feeling more drawn towards him than ever.
"I'm coming out to visit you soon, Deacon," he told the other; "I
want to know you better. There are a lot of things I mean to ask you
about the habits of those little animals from which you get your
hints about the weather; and you told me to drop in any time I felt
like it, you remember."
"You'll be doubly welcome, both of you, lads!" the big blacksmith
assured Hugh, as he drove away, more or less disappointed because his
little plan to assist a sorrow-stricken mother had fallen through.
"Say, his heart must be as big as a bushel-basket, Hugh," admitted
Thad, as they walked along, heading for the open square in the center
of the town.
Two minutes later and Thad gave vent to an ejaculation.
"It's all up now, Hugh!" he said, in a half-disappointed tone.
"What is?" demanded his comrade wonderingly.
"The Chief has arrested Tip Slavin, I mean. He must have heard what
Owen Dugdale had to say about meeting Tip Slavin smoking a cigarette
on the road to the mill-pond, and set a trap for him. He's just
stopped his big car in front of Headquarters, and one of his men is
lifting out a load of stuff, doubtless the plunder Tip cached in the
woods up there. And the Chief has his hand on Tip's shoulder as they
get out. I notice that Tip has lost his arrogant look, and seems
badly scared, too!"