JUST BETWEEN CHUMS
"Oh! I'm sorry to hear that, Thad!" exclaimed Hugh. "Are you dead
certain it was a souvenir spoon you glimpsed? Couldn't you have been
mistaken?"
The other boy shook his head in the negative.
"I sure wish I could say so, Hugh, and that's a fact," he replied; "but
I've got pretty good eyes, and I ought to know what such things look
like, for hasn't my mother been collecting the same for ten years now.
Of course, ours are all of this country, representative of cities and
places she and dad have visited. But this one was different. I'm as
certain as anything that it must have come from some foreign place,
because the style and marking stamped is of no American workmanship."
Evidently, what he had just heard caused Hugh considerable anxiety. It
seemed as though things were getting darker for Owen Dugdale with every
passing day. Even stout-hearted Hugh felt his doubts rising. He
wondered if, after all, he had made a mistake in his judgment of Owen,
and his belief in the boy's honesty. Hugh remembered some of the
things that were being said around town concerning the old man of the
dismal place called the "Rookery." His aversion to meeting people, as
well as other odd traits about him, had caused no end of talk. Some
even said they were not Americans, but foreigners, English possibly.
Altogether Hugh felt considerably exercised. He shut his teeth hard
together, however, and told himself that no matter how many suspicious
circumstances seemed to surround Owen, he would still continue to have
faith in the boy.
"Whenever I think of Owen's clear eyes," he told Thad, "and the way
they look you fair and square in the face, I feel positive that boy
can't be a sneak and a thief. No one with such honest eyes could do
mean things. Such fellows are patterned on a different model nearly
always."
"Well, I've believed a good deal as you do myself, Hugh," admitted
Thad. "Just take that Leon Disney, for instance. There's a chap who
never could look straight at any one he was talking to."
"You're right, Thad. He keeps on shifting his eyes up and down all the
while. I've often noticed it about Leon, and made up my mind it was an
uneasy conscience that made him act so."
"Then, after all I've told you, Hugh, you still believe in Owen?"
"I'm going to hold firm until the evidence is all in," said the other.
"You're a good friend, I must say," Thad hastened to observe, a gleam
of honest admiration showing in his eyes. "I only hope you'll stand by
me as well, in case I ever get into any trouble, that's all."
"I'd stand by you to the last ditch, and then some," Hugh told him,
with an affectionate smile; "for we're chums, and what's the use of
having a pal unless he '11 go through thick and thin for you. But I'm
a little surprised about one thing, Thad."
"Do you mean about my actions in that house, Hugh?"
"I should have thought you'd been quick to say something about the
spoon, so as to draw the old gentleman out," continued the other.
"Oh! I didn't dare do such a thing as that, Hugh. It would have been
pretty bold in me, you know."
"There might be ways to do it without seeming rude, Thad. For
instance, what was to hinder you from picking it up and expressing your
admiration for such a thing. Then by using your eyes, you could have
told whether Mr. Dugdale was surprised at seeing the spoon there, or
not. His actions more than anything he might say would have given you
a pointer, don't you see?"
"Yes, I can understand that all right, now you've mentioned it, Hugh,"
chuckled the other. "It's so easy to grip a thing after some one has
shown you how. Remember those envious Spanish courtiers who tried to
take Columbus down a peg by saying it was a simple thing to discover
America, since all you had to do was to set sail, and heading into the
west keep going on till you bumped up against the islands that at that
time they thought were the East Indies. Then, you remember, Columbus
asked them to stand an egg on end, which they tried and tried without
success, until he gently cracked one end, and it stood up all right.
Oh! yes, I can see now I might have done a lot of things that didn't
happen to occur to me just then."
"I'm sorry you let such a good chance slip by without nailing it," said
Hugh.
"Well, it might happen," added Thad, as though an idea had come into
his brain like an electric flash, "that another opportunity will come
along, and if it does, I give you my word I'll learn something worth
while."
"How did you like the old gentleman," continued Hugh; "and after
meeting him, do you take any stock in the stories that have been
floating around town about his being the clever rascal who disappeared
from Wall Street two years ago?"
"Why, he seemed very pleasant, so far as I could see," replied Thad,
slowly. "Course I don't pretend to be a smart enough reader of human
nature to say positively that old Mr. Dugdale is all to the good; but
he is well read, and I seemed to see what looked like a twinkle in the
corners of his eyes as though he might have a fair sense of humor in
his make-up."
"He liked you, too, didn't he, Thad?" continued Hugh.
"Well, to be honest with you, I really believe the old gentleman did
act a little that way. Perhaps, it was because he'd heard Owen mention
my name as one of his few friends; and Mr. Dugdale was wanting to show
how pleased he felt to know me. Yes, he acted as if he would like to
see me again; in fact, he asked me to come in some time, and visit Owen
in his den, for the boy often seemed lonely, he told me."
"Poor Owen! let's hope this will all come out right in the end, then,"
Hugh finally said, as though his own mind was made up not to allow the
latest discovery to influence him against the Dugdale boy.
"But we've got to admit," added the other, seriously, "that it adds to
the tangle a heap, and makes it look worse than before. However, I'll
try and learn a thing or two. Give me a little, time to get my slow
wits working, Hugh; and I may have more news for you. All the same, it
wouldn't surprise me if you took a spurt and came in across the line
ahead of me."
"Whatever makes you say that?" demanded Hugh.
"Oh! I know you so well, that's all," laughed his chum, giving him a
nudge in the side with his elbow. "I wager the chances are ten to one
you're beginning to turn over a little scheme in your mind right now.
How about that, Hugh?"
"If I am," retorted the other, "I don't intend telling you the first
thing about it until there's some solid foundation for the theory to
rest on."
"Same here," chuckled Thad, with a wink that had a deal of significance
about it, Hugh could see. "Mebbe I've got a whiff of an idea myself
that might turn out worth while; but wild horses couldn't drag a hint
of the same from me so early in the game. So we're quits on that
score, you see, Hugh."
The other jumped down off the wide-topped post, as though he thought he
should be continuing on his way home.
"I must be going, Thad," he remarked. "Supper-time, almost, you know;
and besides I have some chores to do. When a fellow will keep pets the
way I do, he's got to expect to spend some little time looking after
them. I wouldn't want to let any of mine suffer for lack of attention."
"And I wager they never do, Hugh!" declared the other, with his
customary stanch faith in his chum. "You have it fixed so that your
homing pigeons can always get feed from a trough that allows only a
scant ration to come down at a time, your 'lazy boy's self-feeder,'
I've heard you call it. And as for those fine Belgian hares that would
take first prize at any rabbit show, they live on the fat of the land.
Right now you're cultivating a bed of lettuce for them, as well as a
lot of cabbages, and such truck. Oh! no fear of any dumb beast, or
bird going hungry when it has Hugh Morgan for an owner."
"Thank you for the neat compliment, Thad," said Hugh, the glow in his
eyes telling how much he appreciated such honest praise. "I may have
my faults, like every boy has, but being cruel to or neglectful of
little creatures that are in my keeping isn't one of them. I'd hate to
think I could let a poor rabbit go hungry. I'd get out of bed in the
middle of the night, cold as it might be, and go out to my hutch, if I
got an idea in my head that I'd left a window open that might allow a
draught to blow in on the poor things."
"Well, I don't take to pets the same as you do, Hugh, but all the same
I can understand how you feel about them. It's the right way, to, and
no boy with any heart in him could be mean to helpless little animals.
I warrant you I know one fellow in Scranton who wouldn't get out of his
warm bed for any pet that ever lived."
"I suppose you're meaning Nick Lang," remarked Hugh. "Well, I don't
know. To tell you the truth, that boy is a mystery to me. Sometimes I
think that, bad as he seems to be, Nick isn't quite all yellow; that
there's a little streak of white in his make-up."
"Why, you surprise me, Hugh, when I hear you say that, and after all
you've seen of his mean ways, too. Think how he started to beat poor
Owen up that night; yes, and for years back he's been a big bully,
trying to have things his own way, and ruling by might of his fists.
Why, nearly everybody in Scranton believes him to be utterly
irreclaimable. What makes you say such a queer thing?"
"I may be mistaken after all," said Hugh, slowly, "but here's a
singular thing I saw only yesterday. I haven't mentioned it to a
living soul, but it set me to thinking, and wondering whether, after
all, if a big hulking fellow like Nick were given a fair chance to make
good, he mightn't change and astonish the neighborhood.
"I was going along a side street when I got a thrill. There was a
buggy with a frisky horse attached standing in front of a house. The
man had gone inside and very imprudently left his child, a little
fellow of some five years of age, to sit there in the vehicle, not even
bothering to hitch the beast.
"Well, the boy, like most kids would do, had started playing with the
whip; and I saw him give the horse quite a blow. No doubt he was
imitating his father in doing that. The spirited beast started
rearing, and then acted as if about to make a dash down the street. It
would have been putting the child's life in danger, you can easily see.
"I started to run, but never could have made it. Then I saw some one
jump for the horse's head, and have a little tussle with the animal.
It was Nick Lang. He hadn't stopped to think of any danger to himself.
I drew up and watched him. He conquered the beast, fastened him to a
hitching post, and then started to scold the white-faced little boy for
having touched the whip. The bully was showing in his nature, after
all, that splendid exhibition of nerve and quick wit.
"Nick noticed me then, for the first time, and acted confused, as if
caught doing something he would not like folks to know. He shook his
finger in the boy's face again threateningly, gave me a sneering look,
and then stalked along down the street whistling like anything. And,
Thad, the boy who could do a thing like that off-hand can't be quite
_all_ bad, though people oughtn't to be blamed for thinking he is.
So-long, Thad!"