SAM REDEEMS HIMSELF GLORIOUSLY.
The rest of their stay in the lumber camp passed away without any
further remarkable occurrence. It seemed as though after that big blow
the weather had cleared for a long spell, although remaining quite cold.
Hugh took the gun and did a little hunting just to please the insistent
Billy, who was still clamorous for a turkey, and would not be happy
until they had at least done their part toward procuring one.
Sure enough Hugh did succeed in bagging a gobbler, and as it turned out
to be a young and tender bird they did enjoy a turkey dinner after all.
Better late than never, as Billy told them, after he had succeeded in
roasting the turkey by means of a rude spit before the fire, which had
to be turned from time to time until Billy’s arms ached and his round
face rivalled the setting sun in color.
But it was a feast none of them would ever forget, and that repaid all
those who had had a share in getting it up, as well as “putting it
down.”
The morning finally came when they had planned to return to town. It was
Tuesday, and while another holiday still remained before school would
convene, Hugh thought it might be as well they got home, as there would
be certain things needing attention, as well as a meeting of the scouts
scheduled for that night.
Casey was mighty sorry to see the boys making preparations for
departure. That period would always remain as one of the happy times in
the life of the old tramp. He privately informed Hugh, to whom he had
taken a great fancy, that he was almost persuaded to look up his people,
and see if he could spend his last days in a civilized way; and it can
be put down as certain that Hugh applauded his determination and urged
him not to change his mind.
They left all their provisions with Casey, though the supply was not
very bountiful. When the car started off, with the scouts cheering like
mad, Sam with the rest, Casey stood there in the doorway waving his
greasy old hat after them, and apparently quite moved.
As we will have no further occasion to mention him again, it may be said
here, in passing, that several months afterwards Hugh did actually
receive a letter from the man, telling him that he had now reformed, was
living with his married daughter, who had forgiven him freely, and that
he still saw a chance to make an honest living at his old trade of a
cooper; so that it seemed as though another besides Sam had profited by
the Thanksgiving outing taken by Hugh and his chums up to the deserted
lumber camp of the Merrivales.
Hugh had arranged to take Sam home with him. He felt sure that after his
mother learned the whole story she would be only too well pleased to
have a hand in bringing about a reconciliation between the erring and
repentant boy and his stern father.
Gus had explained that he meant to tell his mother everything; and in
some way an arrangement would be made whereby Mrs. Merrivale might call
at Hugh’s house to see the boy who had been in her mind and heart these
five long years.
All of the boys were feeling in fine spirits. They believed they had
enjoyed the trip immensely, and felt many times repaid for what little
trouble they had gone to. Indeed, Hugh, Arthur and Billy told Gus how
glad they were he had thought to ask them to accompany him on his
singular mission.
“We’ve had a bully good time!” Billy had said, and his eyes glistened as
if fond memories of that groaning Thanksgiving table still haunted him.
“I ought to be satisfied,” asserted Arthur, “since my two patients came
out with flying colors. Sam here declares he hasn’t felt so well for a
long time.”
“Which is only the truth,” the person referred to declared vehemently.
“I’m just as hearty as ever, and I will say that Arthur here is the best
doctor I’ve run across in all my wanderings.”
“Perhaps the only one in the bargain,” laughed Arthur, jokingly. “Makes
me think of the little fellow who came home from school one day and
boastingly said to his daddy: ‘I’m next to the head of my class now,
father!’ And after he had been complimented on his smartness, and I
guess received some pennies in the bargain, the father happened to think
to ask him how many there were in his class, when he said: ‘Oh! me and a
wee lassie.’ But I’m head, foot and the whole shooting match.”
The old car broke down a few times on the way home, necessitating
considerable repairing on the part of Gus, assisted by those of his
mates who knew something about mending a tire or pottering with balky
machinery.
Instead of arriving at Oakvale by noon they were many miles away when
the sun drew near the zenith, a fact that began to give poor Billy,
always in fear of starving to death, cause for uneasiness.
It happened, however, that there was a friendly haven close by in the
shape of a prosperous farmer’s home, and upon their applying for “first
aid to the injured” they were immediately asked to come back in an hour
and have dinner with the family, hired man and all.
So as Billy admitted, “Heaven tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” and
they did not have to go hungry the rest of the day. Things would have to
be pretty serious for a party of lively lads like those scouts, with
money in their pockets, to want for a meal when in a semi-civilized
section of country.
It was at evening that they finally came to the home town. In fact, the
lights had already commenced to spring up, and Billy could catch the
odor of many suppers cooking as soon as they began to pass houses on the
outskirts, a fact he hastened to announce to his comrades after his
usual way.
Sam and Hugh were first of all let out at the latter’s cottage home, and
the brothers parted with a hearty shake of the hand. Gus was as happy a
boy as could well be found when he alighted in his own yard after
dropping the other fellows at their respective homes. He only feared he
might arouse the suspicions of his father by an unusual flow of spirits.
He also knew that an anxious mother was waiting up there behind those
curtains in her bedroom to hear the report he was bringing back with
him.
Just as Hugh had anticipated, his mother, while surprised at seeing Sam
(for she was one of the few who knew the real reason for his absence
from home), only too gladly agreed to do everything possible for the
young fellow. Her heart went out to that other mother who had so long
mourned for her boy, not knowing whether he might be living or dead.
“You shall stay with us until it is all settled, Sam,” she told him,
looking straight into his eyes as though able to read his firm
resolution there. “Anything we can do to help bring about a happy
ending, you may be sure will be freely done. No one need know you are
here, and you have changed so much that you could walk about the town
without a soul recognizing you.”
She did even more than this, for Sam’s clothes were anything but nice
after the wandering life he had led. Gus had given Hugh some money which
his mother placed in his keeping for the purpose of buying Sam a new
outfit, if, indeed, it turned out that the sick hobo up at the lumber
camp were the missing one.
So Mrs. Hardin took Hugh out after supper, as he was about the same
build as Sam. Some of the shops kept open up to nine o’clock these
evenings, since there was a feeling in the air that Christmas was coming
before a great while, and night shoppers had begun to be numerous.
It was an easy matter for them to select such clothes as they considered
Sam should have, outfitting him completely from hat to shoes, as well as
undergarments calculated to withstand the winter cold, socks,
handkerchiefs, shirts, collars, gloves and even neckties.
After they came back home they sat up quite late, for Sam wanted to tell
something of his life during the years he had been gone. Hugh’s gentle
mother did not wish to hear about his temptations, and the many times he
fell, but encouraged him to speak of his resolution to make a man of
himself, when up there in the mines of Alaska.
So Sam told all about his sudden rise to fortune, his high hopes of
coming back wealthy, when his folks would be proud of him, and then the
dismal drop when it was apparently proven that, after all, his title to
the valuable mining property that had promised so much was founded on a
“fluke,” so that he had to hand it over to another claimant.
“And it galls me,” he told them bitterly, “to think that after almost
reaching the top of my ambition I’m come back home only a forlorn tramp,
just because I couldn’t stay away from mother any longer. It’s broken my
pride down, that’s one thing, and I’m ready to eat humble pie.”
“And, Sam,” Mrs. Hardin told him, “perhaps that’s why it was ordained by
a Higher Power than your will that things should happen in this way. You
were coming home to show your father that you had succeeded. You would
have, perhaps, put on airs in your pride of having accomplished
something big. Now you have had a lesson, and if a reconciliation does
take place, both you and your father will meet on the common ground of
humility. I am glad it’s happened as it has, Sam; and some day you will
see the reason for my saying this. I am a mother, and I know what is in
the heart of the one who has never ceased to love you through good and
evil report.”
So Sam Merrivale took a warm bath that night, and for the first time in
years found himself between clean sheets, in the guest chamber of the
Hardins. It must have been a revelation to the reformed tramp, and
strengthened his resolution to hereafter lead a life above reproach.
Like a good many other young fellows, Sam had had to learn his lesson
through bitterness of spirit. He told himself scores of times that
nothing could ever tempt him to go back to that life of wandering and
wretchedness, even though his father continued to hold out against him.
Gus had confided to his brother what their mother meant to do if her
first plan failed; and that there was an uncle in a city who would take
him in and give him a place in his store.
Perhaps after Sam finally got to sleep he had happy dreams. Certain it
was that when Mrs. Hardin came into the dining-room on the next morning
from her duties of superintending the preparations for breakfast she
could hardly believe her eyes when she saw the fine looking young fellow
with a touch of red in his hollow cheeks, and a flash of conscious
assurance in his eyes, who greeted her by kissing her on the cheek in a
most respectful fashion.
It had been planned that, circumstances permitting, Mrs. Merrivale would
call that afternoon to meet Sam. Meanwhile, the young fellow, feeling
more or less curiosity to see what changes had taken place in the old
home town since his leaving five years back, strolled forth for a walk.
“No danger of anybody guessing who I am,” he had laughingly told Hugh’s
mother, “because I’ve changed a whole lot, and look ten years older. The
life I’ve led has been a hard one. So I’ll just walk about, and perhaps
take a look at home from a safe distance.”
And Mrs. Hardin did not dissuade him, because she knew only too well
that the boy’s heart was hungering for a view of his mother. A glimpse
of her would do him good.
It chanced that Hugh had gone over to Billy’s house on some errand. Here
he found both Arthur and Billy, who had dropped in to talk over their
recent outing and wipe out certain indebtedness on their part with
regard to expenses incurred on the trip.
After this had been all settled up Billy made a proposition.
“I’ve got an errand up the road, fellows,” was what he said. “Why not
keep me company, and on the way back we’ll see if the ice is strong
enough on Danforth’s pond for skating. I know some of you are fairly
wild to get going on runners again, and I wouldn’t mind it myself, since
I’ve found my arnica bottle, and got the same handy.”
So it came about that, having finished the errand Billy had mentioned,
the four chums left the main road, and struck into another that ran
close by the big pond.
“I can see some children playing on the ice,” remarked Billy, presently.
“It strikes me that’s pretty dangerous business when the water was so
warm before the recent cold snap that the ice can’t be very thick as
yet. Listen! you can hear it crack whenever they start to run.”
“Oh! new ice always does that, you must remember, Billy,” said Hugh.
“Like you, I don’t think it’s exactly safe for children to be playing
here, and not an older fellow around to do anything if one of the
kiddies did break in. We’d better hustle along and warn them to get off
the ice until it’s been tested.”
“Oh, look!” cried Billy. “There’s one little girl starting out as if she
had been dared by her companions. It’s that sister of Gus Merrivale,
too, the prettiest child in Oakvale, everybody says. Get a move on,
boys! We ought to be handy in case anything did happen, which I hope
won’t—oh! my stars! she’s fallen in, boys!”
Hugh was already starting to run at top speed, with the others at his
heels. Unfortunately, they were still at some distance from the pond
where the child could be seen struggling in the water, and despite their
good intentions, possibly the scouts might have arrived too late to be
of any real help.
But Hugh’s heart beat high with hope, for he had seen a figure swiftly
rushing over the thin ice, the very rapidity of his passage preventing
his breaking in before he arrived near the hole. Hugh had also
recognized the suit of clothes worn by this person as the one he and his
mother had purchased on the night before!
Yes, it was Sam Merrivale, who, on walking around to see the
well-remembered old pond, had arrived to be just in time to rush to the
rescue of his own little sister.
They saw him go crashing in as the thin ice gave way under his weight,
but that cry of joy welling from Hugh’s lips told that Sam had attained
his object.
“He’s got her all right, boys!” he gasped, as he still ran like wildfire
toward the spot, for he knew very well there would have to be some
further help for Sam if the young fellow was to be saved from breaking
the ice all the way to the shore of the pond, holding his burden above
the water.
Hugh knew just how to go about it. He had already noticed an old boat
close by, and with the help of his chums he pushed this ahead of him.
Billy had been ordered to stay ashore because his weight would be sure
to cause trouble; besides, three of them ought to be enough to propel
that boat along in order to reach Sam and Amy.
The thin ice crackled and swayed, but as the weight was now distributed
over a greater surface it did not give way immediately. When the crash
did come the boys had poles with which to push, and in this way, after
scrambling into the boat, soon reached the spot where Sam was treading
water valiantly, hugging the precious form of little Amy, whom perhaps
he had recognized, to his breast.
They soon had the child safe, and Sam told them to push to the shore, as
he could hang on behind. Hugh, though, made sure to keep a firm grip on
the swimmer, because he realized that the water was very cold, and also
remembered that Sam had only lately been quite sick and weak.
Making desperate efforts, the boys managed to gain the shore at last,
where the group of crying children had gathered to meet them, also
Billy. Hugh for the first time noticed that a big touring car had swung
along the road and stopped. He felt a thrill upon recognizing the three
who were now springing from the automobile, for one of them was Gus
Merrivale, yes, and the man and woman coming back of him as fast as they
could run were his parents.
Surely a strange Fate had interposed to bring about such a situation. No
fellow could ever have dreamed of planning so happy an ending to all the
troubles that had beset the Merrivale family.
The mother had already recognized the child as her own darling, and she
snatched little Amy from the arms of her dripping rescuer. Hugh and the
others stood there riveted to the spot, and waiting for what was going
to happen next, for Gus was tugging at his mother’s dress, and saying
something, though so excited he could hardly speak intelligently.
Then they saw Mrs. Merrivale turn and stare into the face of the young
man to whom she owed her darling’s life. She hastily handed Amy over to
her husband, and threw her arms around the neck of Sam, regardless of
his soaking condition, while they could all hear her joyous cries:
“It’s our boy Sam, don’t you see, Nelson; oh! to-day he has wiped out
all the bitter past, please Heaven. My boy! My boy!”