"GREATER LOVE HATH NO MAN."
It was one of Fred's blue days; for, though they came more rarely,
there were often times when his trouble seemed more than he could
endure, and he was either irritable and moody, or so sad and
despondent that even Bess was in despair over him. For a long time
he had been brave and bright, but now the reaction seemed to have set
in, and on this particular day he was harder to manage than usual.
The other boys had all gone away to a ball game, to which they had
tried in vain to induce Fred to accompany them. Of late he had gone
about with them to many of their frolics, but to-day he had refused
to join them. He was lying in a hammock out in the warm midday sun
of late September, and feeling at war with all the world but Fuzz,
who lay curled up across his breast with his head laid on the boy's
shoulder, occasionally nestling about a little, or giving a lazy
growl whenever Fred ventured to move.
Out on the lawn, Bess and Mr. Muir were playing tennis,--for it was
strange how often the young man had occasion to spend two or three
days with Mr. Washburn. Fred could hear the thud of their balls
against the rackets, and listened idly to their voices; but although
his admiration for Mr. Muir amounted to a sort of hero-worship, he
was too cross and dismal to-day to follow him about, as he usually
did, or to respond to his pleasant, merry greeting. Everybody was
having a good time but just himself, and he couldn't do anything at
all. Everything was going wrong to-day. Miss Bess was too busy to
read to him, just because that bothering old Mr. Muir was always
round,--and, for a moment, Fred almost hated his idol. If he had
only known that he was going to be here, he would have gone with the
boys. He wished he had.
Fred's meditations had just reached this point, when he heard Rob's
voice calling from the street,--
"Cousin Bess, where's Fred?"
"In the hammock, Rob. What sends you home so early?"
"Early!" thought Rob mischievously, "I've been gone nearly three
hours and a half. Mr. Muir must be exciting, if time goes so fast
with him round." But all he said was,--
"I want him to come down to Bert's. We beat those fellows all to
pieces, and we're going to have a grand bonfire to celebrate. Can he
go?"
"Yes," said Bess rather doubtfully, "but you must take care of him,
Robin. Remember, he can't go into it just as you do; and be careful
your own self. We don't want any burned boys on our hands." And she
returned to her game, amidst Rob's fervent assurances that all would
be well.
This time Fred was induced to go. He rolled out of the hammock, and
the two boys, arm in arm, tramped off down the street towards the
house of Dr. Walsh. At the extreme rear of the large grounds, they
found Phil, Ted, Sam, and Bert, with the rest of the victorious nine,
busily piling up a huge mound of brush. To any one glancing about
the well-kept lawn, it was a question where the lads had collected
their materials; but a careful gleaning had gathered in a rich
harvest of light rubbish that would do a smoky honor to their victory
of the morning.
Rob and Fred were greeted with enthusiastic shouts as they appeared,
for Fred was rapidly regaining his old place among his boy friends.
Several grimy hands were extended to help him to a post of honor,
where he could be in the very midst of the fun, and, with a boyish
chivalry, the lads often paused from their work to talk a moment with
him, that he might not feel left out of their frolic. But, even by
this time, Fred had not quite returned to his usual good humor, and
as he loitered about, listening to the gay shouts of his friends, he
was inwardly chafing at the infirmity that kept him apart from them,
and, filled with an impulse to get away from them, he turned slowly,
and walked towards the house.
"Where going, Fred?" he heard Rob call after him.
"Only just to the hammock," he answered, for he had become quite
familiar with the Walsh grounds, as it was a favorite meeting-place
with the boys.
"Fred's blue to-day," remarked Rob to Bert, who stood near him for a
moment.
"Poor old lad! I don't wonder," answered Bert, as he watched the
retreating figure. "I wonder if somebody'd better go with him."
"I don't believe so," said Rob. "When he's like this, he'd rather be
let alone than anything else; and he won't try to go beyond the
hammock. I don't think I'll go."
Poor Rob! How often and how long he regretted this decision!
The bonfire was ready and Ted applied the match. Instantly the flame
began to crackle through the dry twigs, and soon it mounted in a
roaring cone high above the pile of brush, dry as tinder, for no rain
had fallen for more than a week. The boys joined hands and frisked
about the fire; then, arming themselves with long poles, they thrust
them into the midst of the blaze, stirring up a cloud of tiny sparks
and larger flakes of fire that floated up and away in the gentle
September breeze. Of course it was warm exercise, but what boy minds
that, when it is a question of some frolic? Let him have to work,
and then the temperature at once becomes an important question, and
there is danger of getting overheated; but with play, no such slight
matters are taken into consideration. Although the bonfire was dying
down, the fun was still at its height. The boys were poking the
embers up into a pile, preparatory to the prudent sport of jumping
over them, when Ted suddenly exclaimed,--
"Bert! Boys! The little barn!"
Near the bonfire, much, very much nearer than they realized, stood a
small building, half barn, half shed, that for years had been used
for storing hay. It was a favorite place with the boys on rainy
days, and they never wearied of playing hide and seek through a maze
of elaborately constructed tunnels, or of lying on their backs in the
sweet-smelling mows, discussing school, club, baseball, and other
vital interests. Here Fred had held a sort of court the first time
he had joined the boys in the old way; and here he used often to be
with them, during the long weeks of the summer. But this was all
over now, as far as the little barn was concerned, for some
treacherous spark, flying farther than its companions, had blown in
at the wide-open door and lighted on the hay, where it had lain
smouldering until it had gained strength and was ready to burst forth
in the long tongue of flame that had met Ted's eye. Already the hay
was blazing merrily and sending up a thin banner of smoke, which soon
became a dense yellowish cloud that hid the sun and the sky. It was
too far from any other building to cause any danger of its spreading,
so the boys felt that the worst had come. But this was bad enough,
for it had gone too far, when Ted discovered it, to make it possible
to put the fire out. While two or three of them raced up to the
house to give the alarm, the others stood by, with their boyish
hearts sinking as they thought of the damage done by their careless
fun, and waited anxiously for Dr. Walsh to come, hoping, yet fearing,
to have him know of the accident. The barn was well hidden from the
house by the trees, and at some little distance. Would he ever come?
"What do you s'pose he'll do to us?" asked Phil remorsefully.
"I don't know," said Rob anxiously. "Something bad, I'm afraid. I
do hope he won't have us arrested or anything."
"How could we be such dummies as not to look out for all this hay!"
said Ted. "Hark! What's that?"
"What's what?" asked Phil.
"That noise. It sounded as if some one was calling. Listen!" said
Ted excitedly.
The boys did listen. In a moment the cry was repeated,--
"Help! Boys! Rob!"
The boys looked at each other in consternation, while the color faded
from their cheeks and lips, leaving them ashy white.
"Boys," said Sam, "that's Fred! He's in there!"
"What shall we do?"
This exclamation burst from Ted and Phil, as another shriek came
ringing from the barn, above the rush and roar of the flames. Rob
had dropped on the ground with his face in his hands, unable to look,
or even to think of anything but Bessie's charge, "Take care of him."
"Do!" answered Sam calmly. "There ain't but one thing to do,--get
him out. You call back to him that I'm coming; I want to save my
breath. I'll need it all," he added, as he gazed at the seething
flame.
Rob sprang up and caught him.
"Sam, you can't! You mustn't! You'll be burned. I was the one to
blame, for I told cousin Bess I'd see to him. Let me go!"
Sam shook him off.
"No, Bob. You're not strong enough to bring him out; and
besides--you're the only one at home, and if-- But I'll be all
right. I can't let him be burned."
"Wait, Sam! Somebody else will come in a minute," said Phil.
"There ain't any minutes to waste," said Sam bravely. "Don't you
worry. I'll be all right."
Followed by the awe-stricken boys, who, seeing that nothing could
change his purpose, silently submitted to his will, he went quickly
to the farther end of the barn, where the fire was only just
appearing. Hastily pulling off his light summer coat, he threw it
over his head, and, guided by Fred's cries, plunged into the midst of
the smoke and flame, just as Dr. Walsh came running down from the
house, followed by Bert and the other boys.
"I wonder what all that smoke can be," Bess had said to Mr. Muir. "I
do hope the boys are not in any trouble with their bonfire. I wish I
hadn't let Fred go."
"He will be safe with Rob," answered Mr. Muir lightly, as he gathered
up the balls on his racket. "What's that! Somebody crying fire?"
They listened a moment. Then Bess threw down her racket excitedly.
"Mr. Muir, come quick, please. I think it is at the doctor's, and I
feel so worried about Fred!"
Frank Muir could scarcely keep up with her as she hurried along the
street, into the doctor's grounds, and to the burning barn. They
reached it at the very moment when Sam, half carrying, half dragging
Fred, who had lost consciousness, and hung a limp, dead weight,
staggered out into the open air, and fell motionless at his side,
amid the cheer and tears of the large crowd that had gathered.
They said that he must have breathed the smoke, for there was no mark
of the fire upon him. His lips were set firmly together, as with the
nerving himself for some mighty, heroic task; and the coat he had
worn to protect himself was closely folded about Fred's head.
Lovingly and reverently they raised him, and bore him into the house,
where they laid him on Bert's bed, wrapped in the dreamless sleep
that could have but one awakening.
Frank Muir had lifted Fred in his strong arms, and turned to Bess
inquiringly.
"Home, please; that is, if you can carry him there. It is so near,
and Mrs. Walsh has so much now. Oh, Frank, am I to blame?" And she
shuddered at the thought.
"To blame; no! Of course not. But I can carry him easily, and we
shall need you, so you mustn't fail us." And he looked at her
anxiously, for she seemed about to faint.
It was some time before Fred was fully restored to consciousness, and
then, while Bess and her mother dressed his slightly burned face and
hands, Frank Muir sat by his side, trying to cheer and calm him. It
was a long afternoon, for Fred was feverish and nervous, and needed
all their care. They let him talk but little, but he told them how
he had left the boys, intending to go to the hammock, but, thinking
of the hay, he had gone into the barn instead, where he had fallen
asleep, and waked to find the air around him filled with smoke.
After that, he remembered nothing more until he waked in his own bed,
with them all around him. Then he was ordered not to talk, so he
lay, sleeping but little, till far into the night, while Bess
anxiously hovered over him, suffering even more than he did from the
burns which she fancied had been caused by some neglect on her part.
Late the next day, he was so much better that they thought it safe to
tell him about Sam. The boy's grief was beyond any words, but,
clinging to Bess, he sobbed bitterly, as he learned the sacrifice so
nobly made for him. As he gradually became calmer, Bess said to him
gently, as she stroked his hair,--
"Fred, my dear boy, Sam has willingly given his life for yours, and
nothing can change that now. He is at rest and happy. There is only
one thing you can do,--live each day so that, as he looks down on you
and watches you, he can be happier still in feeling that the life he
saved was the life of a true, noble boy, who deserves the sacrifice."
The story of the fire had been told on all sides, and early the next
afternoon the great house on the hill was full, and many were
gathered outside on the lawn, for honest, manly Sam had, unknown to
himself, many a friend; and now young and old, boys and girls, men
and women, had gathered to do honor to the young soldier who had
gained "the victor's crown of gold."
The deep hush of sadness as Mr. Washburn slowly began, "I am the
resurrection and the life," was only broken, now and then, by a sob
from some one who suddenly realized what a large place the quiet boy
had filled in all their hearts. Fred had insisted on being present,
and with Bess sat near the family, looking sadly worn from his burns,
and his sorrow for the friend who had saved him.
But the prayer was ended, and on the quiet that followed rose the
sweet boy voices, for Sam's mother had asked the four friends to sing
for her son, as they had so often sung with him. Clearly and firmly
they began,--
"Lead, kindly Light, amid th' encircling gloom,
Lead thou me on."
But one after another the young voices broke and were hushed, until
Rob was singing alone, unconscious of the people about him, only
seeing the dark outline in the darkened room; forgetful of his
hearers, only remembering the good friend and companion in the happy
days they had passed together. Never had his voice been sweeter or
clearer, until the close of the second verse. Then it was impossible
for him to go on. It all seemed like some horrible nightmare, from
which he must wake, to find Sam alive and well. He tried to go on
with the hymn, but his voice failed utterly. For a moment there was
a hush of expectation, a hush that seemed endless to the boy; and
then, from behind him, in a clear, mellow tenor, low and gentle, yet
so distinct that not a syllable was lost, came the words of the last
verse,--
"So long Thy power has led me, surely still
'Twill lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,
And with the morn, those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since--and lost awhile."
It was all over, "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust," but
as the five lads, the half-dozen now no longer, sat on the Carters'
piazza in the gathering twilight, sorrowfully talking over the events
of the last three days, they felt that no one of them had made a
braver fight to win the victor's crown. And as the stars came out
one by one, and smiled down on the boys as they sat there, smiled as
they had so often done before, only more sadly to-night, they felt
that Sam, too, was looking down upon them from above, and each one
resolved, in his boyish heart, to live from day to day, so that at
last he should be worthy to meet Sam once more in the happy future
world.