DAYS OF PLEASURE
The holiday migration from Ridgley School began six days before
Christmas. Within a few hours the dormitories on the hill, which for
months had resounded to the sound of voices, suddenly became silent and
almost deserted; a few members of the school lingered and half a dozen
of the faculty remained to spend a part or all of the vacation on the
hill, but the great majority set forth to the four quarters of the wind.
Among those who took the morning train on that day of great exodus were
Neil Durant and Teeny-bits Holbrook. Within three hours, as the engine
dragged its load westward, the Ridgleyites who at the start had crowded
two cars had diminished in number to no more than a score. Every large
station along the way claimed two or three and as they left they shouted
back farewells and, loaded down with suitcases, went out to greet the
friends and relatives who had come to meet them. They all had a word for
Neil Durant and Teeny-bits--a special word it seemed--for there was no
question that recent events had ripened the friendships and enhanced the
popularity of these two members of "the best school in the world."
What happiness this was, Teeny-bits said to himself, to be going on a
vacation with a fellow like Neil Durant and to have evidence at every
moment of the friendship of such a "good crowd" as these fellows who
were piling off the train and yelling out their good-bys. It all made
him feel how much the last three months had brought into his life, how
much he owed to the generosity of old Fennimore Ridgley who, though long
ago laid to rest in his grave, had made it possible by his gift for
Teeny-bits to come to Ridgley School.
At two o'clock the train pulled into the station of Dellsport where
Teeny-bits and Neil said good-by to the half dozen of their schoolmates
who were going farther west. They found waiting for them in a closed car
Mrs. Durant and Sylvia Durant, Neil's sister, who immediately made
Teeny-bits feel at ease by talking about school affairs. It had been a
tremendous disappointment, it seemed, to both Mrs. Durant and Sylvia
that they had been unable to come to the football game which had
resulted so gloriously for Ridgley.
"If it hadn't been for the influenza," said Sylvia, "you would have
heard some terrible shrieking on the day of that game--I know I'd have
yelled loud enough so that every one would have heard me, because there
was nothing in the world that I wanted quite so much as to have Ridgley
come through. And when we got Neil's telegram maybe I didn't make the
windows rattle! And mother _almost_ yelled, too."
"We had a terrible quarrel over the newspaper the next day," said Mrs.
Durant, "and I finally compromised by letting Sylvia read the whole
story aloud, so we know just what happened and how one of you evened the
score at the crucial moment and how the other fellow carried the ball
across at the end of the game."
Almost before Teeny-bits realized it he was talking to these two
pleasant persons as if he had known them all his life.
"I want you to act just as if this were your own home," said Mrs. Durant
when she had led the way into the Durant house on Bennington Street. "I
shall have to call you Teeny-bits--and I hope you won't mind--because
Neil has always spoken of you that way in his letters and 'Mr. Holbrook'
_would_ sound formal, wouldn't it?"
"It would make me feel like a stick of wood," said Teeny-bits. "I don't
think any one ever called me that in my life. I've just been Teeny-bits
and I guess I always shall be."
But Teeny-bits Holbrook could not help contrasting this luxurious home
where every reasonable comfort was in evidence, where there were
fireplaces and soft rugs and rich paintings, with his own poor little
home in Hamilton where Ma Holbrook did the work and with her own hands
kept everything shining and clean.
For six days he lived a life that he had never lived before. They skated
at the country club where the new ice had formed over an artificial
pond, drove out in the car over frozen roads to Waygonack Inn for dinner
and danced in the evening, went to the theater and "took in", as Sylvia
called it, two or three parties that were important incidents of the
holiday festivities at Dellsport. Everywhere they encountered jolly
crowds of young fellows and girls.
"Every one seems to fall for you, Teeny-bits," said Neil to the new
captain of the Ridgley team one day, "and they all call you by your
nickname. If you stayed round here very long you'd have them all wearing
a path to our front door."
"You know why it is," replied Teeny-bits, "it's because I'm a friend of
_yours_."
"You're off the track," said Neil, "you're _wild_, man. You've got a way
with you without knowing it, and as for the girls around here--oh, my
heavens!"
"I never realized before what an awful kidder you are, but anyhow I know
I'm having the time of my life," said Teeny-bits.
But in spite of the gayety, Teeny-bits thought often of Ma Holbrook and
old Dad Holbrook who for the first time in many years were spending
Christmas alone. Early in the week he went down to the Dellsport shops
with Neil and selected presents which he thought would please them both.
On the day before Christmas, Major-General Durant, who had been
attending a conference in Washington, came home. Teeny-bits had expected
to stand in awe before this high official of the United States Army; he
was therefore somewhat surprised to find him a genial, easy-to-talk-to
man who took obvious delight in getting back to the freedom and
informality of his home. He was full of stories and keenly interested in
Ridgley School affairs. He himself was the most prominent alumnus of
Ridgley and had many an incident to tell Neil and Teeny-bits about the
days when he himself had played on the football team.
Christmas passed all too quickly. The Durants celebrated it in the good,
old-fashioned manner with a big tree in the living room where a roaring
fire of logs sent myriads of sparks leaping up the chimney. There were
gifts from all the family to Teeny-bits and not the least appreciated of
the presents that came to the visitor was a pair of fur-lined gloves
from Ma and Pa Holbrook, just such a pair as they would select,--warm
and substantial.
Sylvia Durant seemed to have a way of understanding what a person was
thinking about. "Isn't that a good present!" she said. "They're so warm
and comfortable feeling. They'll be just what you'll need for the winter
sports up at the Norris place."
There was not so great a difference after all, Teeny-bits said to
himself, between this Christmas and other Christmases; though the
surroundings were different, the same genial, kindly spirit brooded over
this luxurious home in Dellsport as always brooded at Christmas time
over the humble home in Hamilton. He could shut his eyes and imagine
that Ma and Pa Holbrook were in the room taking it all in and looking
about them with beaming faces.
And then it was all over. On the morning after Christmas Major-General
Durant went back to Washington and Mrs. Durant and Sylvia went with him
to spend the rest of the holidays in the Capitol City.
Neil and Teeny-bits, having seen them off, prepared to start northward
to the Norris place in the Whiteface Mountains. Teeny-bits felt none too
glad to leave the Durant home; those six days had been filled to
overflowing with happiness.
"You're coming again," Sylvia had said, and when Teeny-bits had replied,
"I hope so," she had added, "Why, of course you are. Every one wants you
to."
It was a four-hour run by train to Sheridan and an hour by sleigh to the
Norris cabin at Pocassett, a little settlement of camps and cottages at
the foot of the Whiteface range of mountains. In the early afternoon
Neil and Teeny-bits had arrived in the snow-covered country and were
receiving the greetings of their Jefferson School friends. Ted Norris
had driven down to the station to meet them in a two-seated sleigh and
had brought with him Whipple, whom both Teeny-bits and Neil remembered
as the Jefferson punter.
"How do you fellows feel--pretty husky?" asked Norris as they were going
back toward the mountains. "Some of the crowd up at the camp want to
tramp over the range on snowshoes to-night if it's clear and I didn't
know but what we'd join them."
"That sounds good to me," declared Neil. "Teeny-bits and I have been
leading the social life down in Dellsport and we're all fed up with
parties and so on."
"Sounds good to me, too," said Teeny-bits, although he had to admit to
himself that he wasn't exactly "fed up" with the good time in Dellsport.
The Norris place was a cabin built of spruce logs with an immense stone
fireplace at one end of a long living room,--a comfortable backwoods
place where one felt very close to the out-of-doors. Here the new
arrivals found awaiting them Phillips, another member of the Jefferson
eleven, and an athletic looking middle-aged man whom Norris introduced
as his uncle, Wolcott Norris. There was no one else at the cabin except
Peter Kearns, the cook and helper.
"It's all fixed up for to-night," said the older Norris; "we're going up
the gulf and over the shoulder of Whiteface and then down to the Cliff
House, where a sleigh will meet us and bring us back."
That evening tramp over the slopes of Whiteface Mountain was the
beginning of a wonderful series of winter sports at Pocassett. The party
that made the climb consisted of the six from the Norris place and twice
as many more from other cabins and cottages that nestled in the snow at
the foot of the mountains. While the growing moon hung overhead and shed
its silver radiance over the white world, the snowshoers climbed the
gulf by way of a trail that led among spruces and hemlocks, then up and
out to the great, bare shoulder of the mountain. Gaining the ridge, they
crossed and went plunging, sliding and leaping down in the soft snow
that clothed the farther slope. It was a night to make one's blood run
fast, and the whole crowd came back to the settlement at Pocassett in
high spirits. The days that followed were filled with similar
sports,--skating where the snow had been cleared from the surface of the
Pocassett River, snowshoeing in all directions over the hills, fishing
through the ice at Lonesome Lake and Wolf Pond and, on one or two
nights, get-togethers with the crowd of young people who were occupying
other camps near by.
Teeny-bits soon discovered that the vigorous, middle-aged man who had
been introduced to him that first day as Ted Norris' uncle was in
reality taking the place of the Jefferson football captain's father, who
had died several years before. It seemed to him that here was the most
intensely interesting man he had ever met. He was a mining engineer, and
from little things that were said now and then it was evident that there
was scarcely a quarter of the world into which he had not penetrated. A
casual remark about India aided by a question or two from Phillips and
Neil Durant brought forth a story of a trip into the jungles of that
distant country; at another time the sight of a bare mountain-side
called forth reference to a snow-covered range in China and led to
interesting details of life in the Far East.
"Sometime you will have to take us on a trip to Japan or China or India
or somewhere," said Ted Norris one night when the six of them were at
supper.
"Well," said the mining engineer, "I'd like to do it. Who knows, perhaps
sometime I can."
Teeny-bits Holbrook would have liked nothing better than to "pump" this
man who had traveled so much, for he found stories of far lands
intensely interesting, and when the first mishap of the vacation
occurred he was somewhat envious of the victim, to whom it opened up an
opportunity for closer acquaintance. On Thursday Neil Durant, in trying
out a pair of skis on a steep slope behind the camp, crashed into a
thicket of young pine trees and, although he came through with a grin on
his face, he discovered that he had sprained his ankle and would not be
able to join the crowd on the ski party that had been planned for
Thursday evening. Wolcott Norris announced at supper that he also would
stay behind; and thus it happened that the former captain of the Ridgley
team sat with his bandaged ankle propped up on a chair in front of the
fireplace while Wolcott Norris settled back comfortably to enjoy an
evening of conversation. They talked about many things--travel,
business, college and sports--before the subject got around to the
Ridgley-Jefferson game.
"You know I was there," said the mining engineer, "and I don't think I
ever spent a more interesting two hours. You fellows certainly had the
game developed to a fine point and though of course I, as an old
Jefferson boy, was yelling hard for the purple, I couldn't help handing
you chaps a bit when you came through. And your friend Teeny-bits--now
that I know him--measures up to the idea of what he was like, which I
got from watching him play."
"Yes," said Neil, "he comes through--you can always count on him. Every
one down at school fell for him from the start, partly, I suppose,
because he was different from most of the fellows and then, of course,
because he made good. Certain things about him attracted attention
before he'd been in school very long."
"What things?"
"Well," said Neil, "a lot of things--one is the knife mark on his back."
"The what?" asked Wolcott Norris.
"Why a sort of birthmark that looks like a knife."
The mining engineer had been looking into the embers of the fire rather
dreamily and talking in a low tone to Neil. He now half turned round and
said in a voice that showed more than casual interest, "Tell me about
it. It sounds interesting."
"Well," said Neil, "it's a mark, sort of brick colored, on his shoulder,
that looks exactly like a knife or a dagger. I noticed it one day in the
shower-bath room when Teeny-bits first came out for the football team."
"Has he always had it?"
"Yes, I guess so. I suppose it's just chance--the shape of it, but it is
such an unusual looking thing that the fellows got interested in him and
then of course there was the story about his mother being killed in a
railroad wreck. That got around school some way; Teeny-bits himself told
it, I think; so there isn't any harm in my repeating it. Some mighty
nice people in Hamilton picked him up after a train accident which
killed his mother and took him home. They finally adopted him, and gave
him their name when they weren't able to find any of his relatives, and
of course the mystery of that made the fellows all the more interested
in him."
While the former captain of the Ridgley team had been saying these words
the mining engineer had looked at him with an intentness that Neil had
attributed to the fact that Teeny-bits' story was as interesting to him
as it had been to the sons of Ridgley.
"You said that it was his mother who was killed in the railroad
accident?"
"Yes," replied Neil, "I guess they never found out what her name was.
That seems pretty horrible, but the Holbrooks, who adopted Teeny-bits,
are mighty fine people. Daniel Holbrook is the station agent at
Hamilton."
The mining engineer settled back in his chair, sighed rather heavily and
gazed once more into the embers of the fire. "Well, Teeny-bits is a fine
chap," he said finally, "and I don't wonder that the fellows fell for
him."
"He nearly caused me nervous prostration," said Neil, "when he didn't
show up at the game until the last minute, and the story about what
happened to him and how the Chinese who had kidnaped him acted when they
saw the knife mark on his shoulder is one of the strangest things I ever
heard."
Wolcott Norris got out of his chair so quickly that Neil looked up in
surprise. "What happened about these Chinese?" asked the mining
engineer. "When did they come into it and _how_ did they act?"
"That's another bit of mystery," said Neil. "There were a couple of
fellows at school who didn't like Teeny-bits for one reason or
another--jealousy, I guess--and according to general belief they patched
up some kind of ridiculous plot to get Teeny-bits away from the school
while the big game was being played. One of them was Teeny-bits'
substitute and would have played if Teeny-bits hadn't been there. Maybe
you read in the papers about the accident in which a fellow named
Bassett was killed and another named Campbell got pretty badly hurt.
Those were the two fellows--they wrecked a big machine running away
after Teeny-bits showed up at the game. At least every one supposed they
were trying to make a get-away. All Teeny-bits knows about the thing is
that some one sent him a fake telephone message that his father--that
is, old Daniel Holbrook--had been hurt, and when Teeny-bits was on the
way home some men pounced on him and carried him over to Greensboro and
shut him up in some sort of Chinese place. They had him all tied up and
fixed so that he couldn't get away, they thought; but Teeny-bits
squirmed around and tore his sweater half off and finally got almost
loose, when back came two of these Chinamen and were tying him up again
when they saw this mark on his back and they began to act as if they'd
been mesmerized or something. They jabbered away and pointed at the
thing, and while they were going through these tantrums Teeny-bits just
walked out of the place and came home."
"That _is_ strange," said the mining engineer, "_mighty_ strange. Didn't
he find out why they were frightened or what was behind it all?"
"No," said Neil, "I think the matter was sort of hushed up. They did a
little investigating and it didn't seem to get them anywhere, and I
guess the people at the school thought it wasn't worth while to follow
it up any more. No one doubts that this Campbell fellow and Bassett were
behind the business, and as far as the Chinese go I guess they were just
superstitious or something. You must know them pretty well--you've
traveled over there so much. Don't you?"
Apparently the mining engineer did not hear Neil's question, for he had
turned again to the fireplace and was gazing into the embers in an
abstracted manner. Neil did not feel like interrupting. For several
minutes the room was silent, then Wolcott Norris suddenly turned and
asked:
"When was that crowd coming back?"
The ski party on that night consisted of the three Jefferson football
players, Teeny-bits and two brothers by the name of Williams who were
from a camp a quarter of a mile down the valley. They planned to go up
over the shoulder of Whiteface in the brilliant moonlight and shoot down
a long, bare slope which was known as The Slide, where years before an
avalanche had torn its way downward leaving bare earth in its wake. This
V-shaped scar on the face of the mountain was now covered with a smooth
expanse of snow--an ideal avenue for a swift and thrilling descent of
the mountain. Teeny-bits had done more skiing in the last few days than
he had done before in all the years of his life and had become
enthusiastic over the sport. The sensation of sweeping down a slope and
of speeding on with increasing swiftness until it seemed as if one were
actually flying filled him with exhilaration and the real joy of living.
He had never tried anything as steep as The Slide, but he had no fear of
the place, and when, after a somewhat laborious climb, they had reached
the peak and stood gazing down on the white way that stretched before
them, he was eager to be off for the descent.
"Don't take it too fast," said Norris, "the slope is steeper than it
looks. If you should want to slow up you can shoot over to the side and
work against the slope a little."
The moon, now almost at the full, was shedding its ghostly light over
the snow-covered mountains; by its brilliance the ski runners could see
the surface of the slide, unbroken save for an occasional spruce which,
having taken root in the scarred soil, was now thrusting up its dark
branches through the blanket of white. Norris was the first to take off.
He shot downward and as he gained momentum sent back a cry that floated
up eerily. Teeny-bits poised at the edge and took a deep breath. This
was living. Down there, growing smaller and smaller, a moving speck that
seemed a mere shadow on the snow, was a new friend of his. It seemed
strange that this was one of the outcomes of the Jefferson-Ridgley game:
that from so desperate a struggle had arisen this opportunity to know
the leader of the purple for whom he held a growing admiration. A fellow
who fought so hard and so cleanly, who took defeat so wonderfully and
who made such a good pal was only a little less to be admired than Neil
Durant. Perhaps there was not any real difference in Teeny-bits' feeling
for the two.
"I'm off," cried Teeny-bits; "see you at the bottom," and giving a
strong thrust with his pole sent himself out upon the smooth surface.
With body bent slightly forward he took the first gentle slope and felt
the exhilarating sensation of gathering speed as his skis carried him
away from his friends. It was something between flying through the air
and riding on the top of an undulating wave of water. Following Ted
Norris' example he sent a shout back to the group on the crest and then
gave himself completely to the joy of meeting each surprise of the snow
with the proper adjustment of body and limbs that would enable him to
make the descent in one unbroken slide. He had never taken so swift a
flight,--it was as if he were rushing through space with scarcely any
realization of the landscape round him.
Midway in The Slide, Teeny-bits suddenly found himself dodging a thicket
of small spruce trees. He escaped them by swerving quickly, but he went
too far to the left. Other small trees confronted him; his body brushed
sharply against the branches, and then looming before him was an old
monarch of the forest that somehow had escaped when the slide had
scarred the mountain-side. Its gnarled branches, standing out vaguely in
the half-light of the moon and stars like the arms of an octopus, seemed
to Teeny-bits to rise up and seize him. He had the feeling that
something was lifting him into the air, that he was going up and up into
the silver face of the moon. It seemed also that at the same time there
was a flash of light followed immediately by darkness.
One after another the ski runners at the top of The Slide took off and
shot swiftly down the slope. None of them saw the huddled form at the
foot of the ancient oak and it was only when the four had joined Ted
Norris at the bottom of The Slide that they realized that something must
have happened to Teeny-bits.
"Didn't any of you see him on the way down?" asked Ted Norris. "Maybe he
broke his skis."
"He would have yelled at us, wouldn't he?" said one of the Williams
brothers; "we'd better go back and look around."
It was not a difficult matter even in the indistinct night light to
follow the marks of the skis. From the foot of the slide they mounted
slowly, tracing backward the five double tracks and finally coming to
the sixth, halfway down from the crest.
[Illustration: FROM THE FOOT OF THE SLIDE THEY MOUNTED SLOWLY, TRACING
BACKWARD THE FIVE DOUBLE TRACKS.]
"Here they are," said Norris. "Here's where Teeny-bits swerved over
toward the left."
Almost before the words were out of his mouth he gave a startled
exclamation that brought the other four quickly to the foot of the oak
tree, where, with arms stretched out in front of him, lay Teeny-bits. He
had fallen in such an apparently comfortable position that it seemed to
the five ski runners that he could not be badly injured, but when they
turned him over they saw the dark mark of blood on the snow and became
assailed with a great fear that the worst thing they could imagine had
happened. Ted Norris' voice trembled a little as he said to the others,
"We must get him down to the house as quickly as we can. Here, help me
pick him up."
It was a strange procession which went down the slope of old Whiteface
Mountain on that winter night,--an awkward looking group that made
progress slowly because of the burden which it bore.
"You'd better go ahead to the Emmons place and get Doctor Emmons to come
up to our camp quickly," said Norris to the older of the Williams boys.
"You ought to get there about the time we do, and tell him to bring
stimulants and everything that he may need."
Back in the Norris cabin Neil Durant had found that conversation between
himself and the mining engineer lagged. For half an hour the elder
Norris had sat apparently absorbed in his thoughts, and twice when Neil
had made remarks he had answered in a manner that showed his mind to be
far away. Neil himself was indulging in reveries when the sudden
interruption came,--a sound of voices outside the cabin, an exclamation,
a quick thrusting in of the door, and then the noise of persons talking
awkwardly, as those who carry a heavy burden. The two at the fireplace
turned in their chairs and saw immediately that something serious had
happened.
"He crashed into a tree on the big Slide," said Ted Norris. "His body
seems warm but we're afraid that--well, just look at his neck; it moves
so queerly. Doctor Emmons ought to be here any minute. Bert Williams
went down ahead to get him."
Within the space of a second, it seemed, Wolcott Norris had taken charge
of the situation. Teeny-bits Holbrook was laid out on a cot which they
brought in from one of the sleeping rooms and placed in front of the
fire, and here a quarter of an hour later Doctor Emmons made his
diagnosis.
"No, his neck isn't broken," said the surgeon, "so you needn't worry
about that, and you can see from the color of his face that he isn't in
immediate danger. He has a concussion, which isn't necessarily
serious,--though that's a pretty bad blow he received on his head. Now
with your help, Mr. Norris, we'll look him over for further injuries.
There may be some broken bones to contend with also."
Without loss of time the surgeon, aided by the mining engineer, removed,
most of Teeny-bits' clothing and began the process of examination by
which he quickly established the fact that no bones had been broken and
that the only injury from which Teeny-bits was suffering was the one to
his head. During this examination one slight incident attracted the
attention of Neil Durant and his friends who stood about speaking to
each other in whispers. It occurred when Wolcott Norris, following
instructions from the surgeon, with trembling hands uncovered
Teeny-bits' back and revealed the dagger-like, terra-cotta mark upon his
bare shoulder. For an instant the mining engineer had seemed about to
faint; he wavered on his feet and groped suddenly for the support of a
chair-back. To the watchers it had appeared that he had become
momentarily unnerved by the unexpected accident, or that perhaps he had
seen something in Teeny-bits' condition that was unfavorable. The
surgeon, however, had quickly reassured them as they pressed forward a
little closer by saying:
"He's sound from top-knot to toe except for that ugly smash on the head.
Now we'll put these blankets over him and keep him quiet. If the
concussion isn't bad he'll become conscious before very long."
But hour after hour passed and Teeny-bits did not regain his senses. He
lay in a stupor, occasionally muttering thick and unintelligible words.
"There's no need of you fellows staying up," said Wolcott Norris at
midnight. "The doctor and I will be here with Teeny-bits and the best
thing you can do is go to bed."
After a time the Williams brothers went home and Whipple and Phillips
followed the mining engineer's advice. Neil Durant and Ted Norris,
however, refused to leave the room where Teeny-bits lay. They sat
together by the fireplace and waited for an encouraging word from the
surgeon.
"I know he'll pull through," said Neil. "He's as tough as a wildcat."
"Some boy!" said the big son of Jefferson. "He's the real goods. Oh,
he's got to come out of it."
Finally these two friends, who had fought each other so valiantly only a
few weeks before, dozed off sitting there side by side, with the ruddy
light of the fireplace on their faces.
They awoke simultaneously. The gray light of morning had begun to
penetrate the camp windows, and Teeny-bits was sitting up on the couch,
looking about him as if he had been awakened from a puzzling dream.
"What did I do with the skis?" he asked and, raising his hands to his
bandaged head, gazed at his friends in bewilderment.
The doctor and Wolcott Norris, Neil and Ted were beside the cot in an
instant.
"It's all right, old man!" said Neil. "You got a thump on your head
coming down the slide."
"It feels----" Teeny-bits began. But his head was too heavy; the
shadow of a smile crossed his face and lying back on the pillow he
closed his eyes.
"We must keep very quiet," said the surgeon. "He'll sleep now and be the
better for it."