ON THE THRESHOLD.
“On the contrary,” declared Roger earnestly, as he once more rose from
his chair, “I hold quite a different opinion of you, Stone. You have
had a tough time of it, and any fellow in your place with an ounce of
real blood in his body might have done just what you did. Every chap is
human, and if you had submitted to insults and injury without
resentment you would have been a soft mark. Hayden marked you for life,
and he might have killed you when he struck with that knife; in return
you gave him just what he deserved. There is nothing in the world I
despise more than a fighter who is a bully, and nothing I admire more
than a fighter who fights for his rights. I don’t believe there is the
least atom of a bully about you, Stone. Put me in your place and I
might have gone farther than you did.”
“Thank you, Eliot—thank you!” exclaimed Ben huskily, as he also rose.
“But I have learned by experience that any fellow can’t afford to try
squaring up scores with an enemy by fighting or any sort of personal
violence; I’ve found out he only injures himself the most, and I
believe there must be other and better ways of getting even.”
“Perhaps that’s right, too,” nodded Roger; “but I am satisfied that it
is your natural impulse to protect the weak and defend them from the
strong and brutal. You do it without pausing to think of possible
consequences to yourself. That’s why you defended Jimmy Jones from Hunk
Rollins, who, by the way, is a duffer for whom I have no particular
use. That is why you faced the fangs of old Fletcher’s fierce dogs to
save my sister. Stone, I think you’re all right, and I’m ready to tell
anybody so.”
Again Ben expressed his thanks in a voice deep with emotion.
“Now,” Roger went on, “I think we understand each other better, and I
am satisfied that a chap of your grit and determination will be a
valuable addition to the Oakdale Eleven, for there are some fellows on
the team who lack sand and can be well spared. Don’t talk to me about
leaving school!” he exclaimed, lifting a hand and smiling in that
manner which made him so attractive. “That’s all nonsense! You’re not
going to leave school.”
“But—but I can’t stay,” faltered Stone. “I don’t want to leave, but——”
“You shan’t; I’ll see to that. Prof. Richardson shall know just why you
sailed into Hunk Rollins, I promise you. When he understands that you
were simply protecting a helpless cripple from a bully who was
tormenting him he’ll be pretty sure to do you justice. He’ll find out
how you defended my sister, too. I tell you it’s all right, old fellow,
and you’ll stay right here at school as long as you care to do so.”
A flush came to Ben’s freckled cheeks and his eyes gleamed with growing
eagerness.
“That’s fine of you, Eliot!” he exclaimed.
“Fine—nothing! Do you think that will be anything compared with what
you did for me? I should say not! If I didn’t do that much I’d be a
poor flub.”
“Hayden—he will——”
“Don’t you worry about Hayden. This is not Hilton, and it’s not likely
Lemuel Hayden could succeed in making much out of that old affair if he
tried. Besides, I fancy my father has about as much influence in
Oakdale as Lemuel Hayden has. He has been here a great deal longer, and
the mill business of the place is decidedly more important than the
lime industry. I’ll guarantee that father will stand by you like a
brick, so, you see, you have some friends of consequence.”
It was difficult for Ben to comprehend at once that the thing which had
menaced him and threatened to drive him like a criminal from Oakdale
was no longer to be feared. From the depths of despair he was thus
lifted to the heights of hope, but the sudden change seemed to bewilder
him.
Roger’s arm fell across his shoulders and Roger went on talking to him
quietly and convincingly, making it plain that his proper course was to
return to school the following day exactly as if nothing had happened.
“Leave it to me; leave it to me,” Roger persisted. “I’ll guarantee to
settle the whole matter for you. Say you’ll let me take care of this
affair, old chap.”
“You—I—I——”
“Then it’s settled, is it?” cried the determined boy. “You’ll be there
to-morrow? That’s first rate! Give me your hand on it.”
Ben found Roger shaking his hand, and he returned the warm, friendly
grip, a mist in his eyes.
“I can’t hardly believe I’m lucky enough to have such a friend,” half
whispered the boy whose starved heart had yearned all his life for
friendship and comradery. “It’s too good to be true.”
“Perhaps I’m a bit selfish about it, too,” said Eliot. “I have my eye
on you for the eleven, as we’re bound to do up Wyndham this year. You
ought to be a stiff man in the line. I want you to come out for
practice to-morrow night. We’ll have our coach next week, and then
we’ll have to settle right down to business and get into trim. He’ll
make us toe the scratch.”
Later, on the way back to his bare room at Mrs. Jones’, Ben wondered if
he had not been dreaming. It did not seem possible that such good
fortune could come to him at last, just when, to all appearances, his
hard luck had culminated in blighting disaster.
As he thought of his visit to Roger Eliot’s home, of his reception by
Roger’s family, of that dinner in the handsome dining room, and of
Roger’s earnest pledge on hearing his story to stand by him and be his
friend, a strange and wonderful feeling of lightness and exuberant
happiness possessed him and made him long to shout and sing. An inward
voice seemed whispering that he had left behind him all the dark
shadows, and now stood on the threshold of a brighter and better life.
Still it was not wholly without a feeling of dread and misgiving that
he approached the academy the following morning, and the fear that
somehow things might not go right after all left his face pale,
although his heart beat tumultuously, as he came up the gravel walk.
As usual at such an hour on warm and pleasant days while school was
holding there was a group of boys near the academy steps. Chipper
Cooper had just finished telling for the thirteenth time that morning
how Stone had defended Amy Eliot and “knocked the stuffing out of
Fletcher’s dogs,” his every statement having been confirmed by Chub
Tuttle, who was making a sort of after-breakfast lunch on peanuts.
Every boy in the gathering turned to look at Ben as he drew near, and
had he observed he must have seen there was nothing of unfriendliness
in their faces. When he would have passed them to enter the academy
Chipper called to him.
“Hey, Stone!” he cried; “hold on a minute, will you? Where did you hit
Old Tige’s big dog when you knocked him stiff? We fellows have been
wondering how you did it.”
“I hit him on the back of his neck,” answered Ben, pausing a bit.
“Well, that was a dandy trick!” declared Cooper. “You ought to have a
reward of merit for that.”
Chub Tuttle approached Ben and held out a handful of peanuts.
“Have some,” he urged, his round face beaming. “Fresh roasted. Got ’em
at Stickney’s store.”
“Thank you,” said Ben, feeling his face flush as he accepted two or
three of them.
At that moment Roger Eliot came from within the building, saw Ben and
seized him immediately, saying:
“Just the fellow I’m looking for! Prof. Richardson wants to see you
before school begins. Come in.”
Then, with his arm about Ben, he drew him into the academy.
“By Jinks!” exclaimed Sile Crane; “I guess that pretty nigh settles
things. When Roger Eliot takes up with a feller like that, Bern Hayden
nor nobody else ain’t goin’ to down him much.”
“’Sh!” hissed Sleuth Piper, assuming an air of caution and mystery. “I
have been piping things off this morning, and I’ll stake my reputation
on it that Eliot has been fixing it for Stone. He has revealed to the
professor the whole tragic tale of that encounter with Fletcher’s dogs,
and, besides that, the professor has been questioning some of the
fellows who were on the scene of action when the go between Stone and
Rollins took place. My deduction is that Stone will come out of this
affair with flying colors.”
“You’re almost too knowing to live, Sleuth,” said Cooper sarcastically.
“As for me, I rather hope Stone does come out all right, for if he
stays in the school he may play football, and I reckon a stocky chap
like him will just about fill an aching void in the right wing of the
line.”
“An aching void!” sneered Piper, who had not relished Cooper’s words or
manner. “Will you be good enough, Mr. Smarty, to tell us how a void can
ache?”
“Why, sure,” grinned Chipper promptly. “You have a headache sometimes,
don’t you?”
“Smarty! smarty!” cried Sleuth, as he fled into the academy to escape
from the laughter of the boys.
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