INTO THE SHADOWS.
As he hastened from the yard and turned down the street, he saw several
boys assembled beneath a tree in a fence-corner near the roadside. They
were laughing loudly at something that was taking place there. On the
outskirts of the little gathering he saw the thin-legged figure of
Spotty Davis, who was smoking a cigarette and grinning as he peered
over the heads of those in front of him.
Ben would have hurried past, but he suddenly stopped in his tracks,
checked by the shrill, protesting voice of a child in distress. At the
sound of that voice, he turned quickly toward the boys beneath the tree
and forced his way among them, pushing some of them unceremoniously
aside.
What he saw caused a fierce look to come to his face and his freckled
cheeks to flush; for in the midst of the group was Hunk Rollins, a look
of vicious pleasure on his face, holding little Jimmy Jones by the ear,
which he was twisting with brutal pleasure, showing his ugly teeth as
he laughed at the tortured lad’s cries and pleadings.
“Oh, that don’t hurt any!” the bullying fellow declared, as he gave
another twist. “What makes ye holler? It’s only fun, and you’ll like it
when you get used to it.”
A moment later Ben reached the spot and sent the tormentor reeling with
a savage thrust, at the same time snatching the sobbing cripple from
him.
“You miserable coward!” he cried, hoarse with anger.
The cripple gave a cry and clung to him. “Don’t let him hurt me any
more, Ben!” he pleaded. “He’s pulled my hair an’ my nose, an’ ’most
twisted my ear off. I was comin’ to meet you to tell you I ketched a
squirrel in the trap.”
In sullen silence the watching boys had fallen back. Ben was facing
Hunk Rollins, and in his eyes there was a look that made the bully
hesitate.
“Now you’ll see a fight,” said one of the group, in an awed tone. “Hunk
will give it to him.”
Rollins had been astonished, but he knew what was expected of him, and
he began to bluster fiercely, taking a step toward Stone, who did not
retreat or move.
“Who are you calling a coward? Who are you pushing?” snarled the
low-browed chap, scowling his blackest, and assuming his fiercest
aspect, his huge hands clenched.
“You!” was the prompt answer. “No one but a coward and a brute would
hurt a harmless little cripple.”
“You take care!” raged Hunk. “I won’t have you calling me names! I want
you to understand that, too. Who are you? You’re nothing but the son of
a jail-bird!”
“Go for him, Hunk!” urged Spotty Davis, his voice making a whistling
sound through the space left by his missing teeth. “Soak him a good
one!”
“I’ll soak him if he ever puts his hands on me again,” declared
Rollins, who was desirous of maintaining his reputation, yet hesitated
before that dangerous look on Stone’s face. “I don’t care to fight with
no low fellow like him.”
“Hunk’s scared of him,” cried one of the boys, and then the others
groaned in derision.
Stung by this, the bully roared, “I’ll show you!” and made a jump and a
swinging blow at Ben. His arm was knocked aside, and Stone’s heavy fist
landed with terrible violence on his chin, sending him to the ground in
a twinkling.
The boys uttered exclamations of astonishment.
With his fists clenched and his uncomely face awesome to look upon, Ben
Stone took one step and stood over Rollins, waiting for him to rise. It
was thus that Prof. Richardson saw them as he pushed through the
gathering of boys. Without pausing, he placed himself between them, and
turned on Ben.
“It has not taken you very long, Stone,” he said, in a manner that made
Ben shrink and shiver, “to demonstrate beyond question that what Mr.
Hayden told me about you is true. I told you it is my custom to judge
every boy by his acts and by what he proves himself to be. For all of
your apparently sincere promise to me a short time ago, you have thus
quickly shown your true character, and I shall act on what I have seen.”
“He hit me, sir,” Hunk hastened to explain, having risen to his feet.
“He came right in here and pushed me, and then he hit me.”
Ben opened his lips to justify himself. “Professor, if you’ll let me
explain——”
“I need no explanations; I have seen quite enough to satisfy me,”
declared the professor coldly. “You have not reformed since the time
when you made a vicious and brutal assault on Bernard Hayden.”
Involuntarily, Ben lifted an unsteady hand to his mutilated ear, as if
that could somehow justify him for what had happened. His face was
ashen, and the hopeless look of desperation was again in his eyes.
Upon the appearance of Prof. Richardson, many of the boys had lost no
time in hurrying away; the others he now told to go home, at the same
time turning his back on Ben. The miserable lad stood there and watched
them depart, the academy principal walking with Rollins, who, in his
own manner and to his own justification, was relating what had taken
place beneath the tree.
As Ben stood thus gazing after them, he felt a hand touch his, and
heard the voice of little Jimmy at his side.
“I’m sorry,” said the lame boy, “I’m awfully sorry if I got you into
any trouble, Ben.”
“You’re not to blame,” was the husky assurance.
“Mebbe I hadn’t oughter come, but I wanted to tell y’u ’bout the
squirrel I ketched. He’s jest the handsomest feller! Hunk Rollins he’s
alwus plaguin’ an’ hurtin’ me when he gets a chance. My! but you did
hit him hard!”
“Not half as hard as he ought to be hit!” exclaimed Ben, with such
savageness that the lame lad was frightened.
With Jimmy clinging to his hand, they walked down the road together.
The little cripple tried to cheer his companion by saying:
“You warn’t to blame; why didn’t you say you warn’t?”
“What good would it have done!” cried Ben bitterly. “The professor
wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to tell him, but he stopped me.
Everything and every one is against me, Jimmy. I have no friends and no
chance.”
“I’m your friend,” protested the limping lad. “I think you’re jest the
best feller I ever knew.”
To Jimmy’s surprise, Ben caught him up in his strong arms and squeezed
him, laughing with a choking sound that was half a sob:
“I forgot you.”
“I know I don’t ’mount to much,” said the cripple, as he was lifted to
Stone’s shoulder and carried there; “but I like you jest the same. I
want you to see my squirrel. I’ve got him in an old bird cage. I’m
goin’ to make a reg’ler cage for him, an’ I thought p’raps you’d show
me how an’ help me some.”
Ben spent the greater part of the noon hour in the woodshed with little
Jimmy, admiring the squirrel and explaining how a cage might be made.
Mrs. Jones heard them talking and laughing, and peered out at them, her
face beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron.
“Land!” she smiled; “Jimmy’s ’most crazy over that squirrel. You don’t
s’pose it’ll die, do y’u?”
“Not if it can have a big cage with plenty of room to exercise,”
answered Ben. “It’s a young one, and it seems to be getting tame
already.”
“Well, I’m glad. Jimmy he’s jest silly over pets. But I tell him it
ain’t right to keep the squirrel alwus shut up, an’ that he’d better
let him go bimeby. Goodness! I can’t waste my time this way. I’ve got
my han’s full to-day.”
Then she disappeared.
“Mother she thinks it ain’t jest right to keep a squirrel in a cage,”
said the lame boy, with a slight cloud on his face. “What ju think,
Ben?”
“Well,” said Ben, “it’s this way, Jimmy: Yesterday this little squirrel
was frolicking in the woods, running up and down the trees and over the
ground, playing with other squirrels and enjoying the open air and the
sunshine. Now he’s confined in a cramped cage here in this dark old
woodshed, taken from his companions and shut off from the sunshine and
the big beautiful woods. Try to put yourself in his place, Jimmy. How
would you like it if a great giant came along, captured you, carried
you off where you could not see your mother or your friends, and shut
you up in a narrow dungeon with iron bars?”
Jimmy sat quite still, watching the little captive vainly nosing at the
wires in search of an opening by which he might get out. As he watched,
the squirrel faced him and sat up straight, its beautiful tail erect,
its tiny forefeet held limp.
“Oh, see, Ben—see!” whispered the lame lad. “He’s beggin’ jest like a
dog; he’s askin’ me to let him go. I couldn’t keep him after that. I
sha’n’t want no cage f’r him, Ben; I’m goin’ to let him go back to the
woods to find the other squirrels he uster play with.”
Together they carried the cage out into the old grove back of the
house, where Jimmy himself opened the door. For a moment or two the
captive shrank back in doubt, but suddenly he whisked through the door
and darted up a tree. Perched on a limb, he uttered a joyful,
chittering cry.
“He’s laughing!” cried the lame boy, clapping his hands. “See how happy
he is, Ben! I’m awful glad I didn’t keep him.”
The first bell was ringing as Ben turned toward the academy.
“Why, you ain’t had no dinner!” called Jimmy, suddenly aware of that
fact.
“I didn’t want any,” truthfully declared Ben, as he vaulted a fence.
“So long, Jimmy.” He waved his hand and hurried on.
He did not return to the academy, however. As the second bell began
ringing, he paused on the edge of the deep, dark woods, which lay to
the north of Turkey Hill. Looking back, he could see the academy, the
lake and the village. The sound of the bell, mellowed by the distance,
seemed full of sadness and disappointment. When it ceased, he turned
and strode on, and the shadowy woods swallowed him.
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