no schooling, thus far, but now, you can go to an evening school and
it will be your fault if you grow up ignorant. You will be able to do
far more and better work in the world, with an education, than without
one. The more you know yourself the better you can help others, you
see."
"Yes," sighed the boy. "I guess that's so, but I 'spect I'll find it
tough work learning."
"I'm not so sure of that. It will be rather hard at first, because
you're not used to studying; but I think you are bright enough to go
ahead pretty fast when you once get a good start. Now who is this
girl, that I've heard you mention several times--Nan is her name?"
"Oh, yes, Nan. Come on, I want you to see her an' our baby," replied
the boy, eagerly.
Somewhat uncertain as to what kind of a girl this might be, yet
anxious to know as much as possible about Theo's associates and
surroundings, Mr. Scott followed the boy down the stairs.
"Nan, here's my teacher, Mr. Scott, come to see the baby," Theodore
exclaimed, as he unceremoniously pushed open the door and ushered in
the visitor.
Mr. Scott was more taken aback than was Nan, at this abrupt
introduction. The girl coloured a little, but quietly arose and shook
hands with the gentleman, while Theo exclaimed:
"Good! Little Brother ain't asleep yet. This is our baby,
Mr. Scott. Ain't he a daisy? Take him."
Now, Mr. Scott was a young man and totally unused to "taking" babies,
but the boy had lifted the little one from the bed and was holding him
out to his teacher with such a happy face that the young man felt that
it would never do to disappoint him. So he received the baby gingerly
in both hands and set him on his knee, but he did not know what to say
or do to amuse the child, and it was an immense relief to him when
Little Brother held out his hands to Theo, and the boy took him again
saying,
"Ye don't know him yet, do ye, Little Brother? You will though, by
'n' by," wherein Theo was more of a prophet than he imagined.
Relieved of the child, Mr. Scott turned to Nan and the colour rose in
his face as he saw a gleam of amusement in the girl's dark eyes, but
Theo's ready tongue filled up the momentary pause, and soon all three
were chatting like old friends, and when Mr. Scott took his departure,
it was with the conviction that his new scholar was fortunate in
having Nan for a friend. At the same time he realised that this great
tenement with its mixed community was a most unsuitable place for a
girl like Nan, and determined that she should be gotten into better
surroundings as soon as it could be accomplished.
His interest in Theodore was deepened by this visit to his room and
friends. He felt that there was something unusual in the boy, and
determined to keep watch of him and give him any needed help.
It was November now and the night was chilly. As Mr. Scott left the
tenement house he buttoned his thick overcoat about him, and shivered
as he thought of Theodore's bare cot, with not a pillow or a blanket
even.
"Not a single bit of bedding," he said, to himself, "and no fire! That
will never do, in weather like this."
The next day he mentioned the case to the aunt with whom he lived,
with the result that a couple of pillows and a warm comforter were
sent before night to Nan's room, addressed to Theodore Bryan, and for
the remainder of the winter the boy at least did not suffer from cold
at night.
Theodore grew to like his teacher much as the weeks passed, and often
after Sunday-school the two walked home together. Some of the boys
that had been longer in the class rather resented this friendship, the
more so as Theo was by no means popular among them just at this time.
"He's gettin' too good, Tode Bryan is," one of them said, one
Sunday. "He walked home with teacher last week, an' now he's a doin'
it again." He glanced gloomily after the two, as he spoke.
"I'd like ter punch his head; that's what I'd like to do," put in
another. "He pitched inter me for swearin' t'other day."
"He's a fine one to talk 'bout swearin'," added a third. "I've heard
him goin' it hot an' heavy many a time."
"Oh yes, but he's settin' up fer a saint now, ye know," said Dick
Hunt, scornfully. "I owe him a lickin,' an' he'll get it too 'fore
he's many days older."
"What for, Dicky?" questioned another.
"What for? For blabbin' to my daddy an' sendin' him to Todd's after
me, the night he come sneakin' in there himself," cried Dick. "I've
been layin' for him ever since, an' I'll give it to him good, first
chance I get."
"He goes to night school now," remarked one.
"Oh, yes, he's puttin' on airs all 'round," returned Dick. "I'll night
school him!" he added, vengefully.
It was not long before Dick found an opportunity to execute his
threats of vengeance. He was loafing on a street corner, with Carrots
and two other boys, one night, when Theodore passed them on his way
home from school. He nodded to them as he went by, but did not
stop. Dick's eyes followed him with a threatening glance until he saw
him turn through a narrow street. Then Dick held a brief conference
with Carrots and the other two, and all four set off hastily in the
direction that Theodore had taken.
He, meantime, went on whistling cheerily and thinking pleasant
thoughts, for he was beginning to get on at the school, and better
yet, he had in his pocket at that moment, a five-dollar bill that
meant a great deal to him.
Ever since his return from the bishop's house, he had been working as
he never had worked before, neglecting no opportunity to earn even a
nickel, and every penny that he could possibly spare he had given to
Nan to keep for him. He had been perfectly frank with her, and she
knew that as soon as he had saved up thirty-seven dollars he meant to
carry it to the bishop for Mrs. Russell, and tell him the whole
story. First, to stop all his wrongdoing and then as far as possible,
to make up to those he had wronged--these were Theodore's firm
purposes now, but he felt that he could never bear to face the bishop
again until he could take with him the proof of his genuine
repentance.
Many and many a time in these past weeks, had the boy planned with Nan
how he would go to the house and what he would say to the bishop, and
what he hoped the bishop would say to him, and Nan had rejoiced almost
as much as the boy himself as, week by week, the sum in her hands grew
toward the desired amount. Even Nan did not know all the hard work
and stern self-denial that had made it possible for Theodore to put by
that money out of his small earnings.
The five in his pocket on this evening would complete the entire sum
and the very next day he meant to carry it to the bishop. The mere
thought of seeing again the face that was to him like no other face in
all the world--filled the boy's heart with a deep, sweet delight. He
was thinking of it as he hurried along through a short, dark alley,
where were only two or three stables and one empty house.
Quick, stealthy footsteps followed him, but he paid no heed to them
until a heavy blow on the back of his head made him suddenly turn and
face four dark figures that were close at his heels.
"Who are you? What ye hittin' me for?" he demanded, angrily.
There was no response, but Dick struck at him again. This time,
however, Theodore was on his guard, and he caught Dick's arm and gave
it a twist that made its owner cry out.
"Oh ho, it's you, Dick Hunt. I might a' known nobody else would sneak
up on a feller this way. Well, now, what are ye after?"
"I'm after givin' you the worst lickin' ever you had," muttered Dick,
trying in vain to free his arm from Theo's strong grip.
"What for?" demanded Theodore.
"For sneakin' into Todd's and then runnin' to tell my father where I
was. That's one thing, but there's plenty more't I'm goin' to settle
with you for, to-night," shouted Dick, as he pounded with his left
hand, and kicked viciously at the other's shins.
"I never spoke to your father that night," Theo declared, but Dick
responded, scornfully,
"Tell that to a greenhorn! Pitch into him, boys. He won't let go o'
me."
Seeing the others start toward him, Theo flung Dick's arm aside, and
bracing himself against a vacant house just behind him, faced them all
in dogged silence. They hesitated for a moment, but Dick cried out
again,
"Come on, boys!" and the four flung themselves upon Theo, striking,
pounding and kicking all together. He defended himself as best he
could, but the odds were too great. It was only when the boy slipped
to the ground in a limp, motionless heap, that his assailants drew
off, and looked uneasily at one another in the darkness.
"What'll we do now?" whispered Carrots.
"Cut it--somebody's comin'!" cried Dick, in a low tone, and thereupon
they took to their heels, leaving Theo as he had fallen on the ground.
The boys stopped running as soon as they reached a lighted street
where the passers-by might notice them; but they walked on rapidly and
discussed the affair in low, guarded tones.
"You don't think he's done for, do ye, Dick?" questioned Carrots,
uneasily.
Dick tried to laugh carelessly, but the effort was a failure. He was
beginning to be anxious as to the result, though he was not ready to
admit it.
"Done for? Not much!" he answered, promptly. "More like he was
shammin', an' wasn't hurt half so much as he'd ought ter be."
"But if 'tain't so-if he's hurt bad, he may have us up for 'sault an'
batt'ry," remarked another.
"Dick's the only one he could go for, 'cause 'twas so dark, he
couldn't spot the rest of us," put in Carrots, hastily.
"Ye needn't try to sneak out o' it that way," cried Dick, sharply. "If
I get took up, you'll be, too."
"D'ye mean't you'd give us away after gettin' us into it, jest ter
help you out?" demanded the other, in a threatening tone.
"If he does, we'll make it hot fer _him_" put in another, as Dick
answered, doubtfully,
"Wal if he should make a fuss 'bout it, I can't take all the blame,
can I? I didn't do all the whackin'."
"Well, I say, boys, he's a nice one, Dick Hunt is! After gettin' us to
help him lick a feller 'cause he darsent do it alone, he talks of
gettin' us took up for it," exclaimed the last speaker; "but see here,
you," he added to Dick, "Bryan knew you an' he didn't know any the
rest of us, an' I tell ye what--if you get inter trouble 'bout this
job, you lug us into it 'f ye dare! I'll swear 't Carrots an' Jo here
were down t' my place with me, 'n' they'll swear to it too; hey,
boys?"
"We will so!"
"We'll do that ev'ry time!" they answered in one voice; and then with
a few cutting words the three turned off together, leaving Dick to
pursue his way alone.
And miserable enough Dick was as he walked on alone. He was not in the
least sorry for what had been done to Theodore, but he was afraid of
the consequences. He turned sick with dread as he remembered how the
boy's body had slipped in a limp heap to the ground and lain there
motionless.
Suppose they had killed him? It would be murder. Somebody would have
to answer for it and that somebody would be he--Dick Hunt. The cold
perspiration started on his forehead and his heart throbbed heavily at
the thought, and he felt a wild desire to run on and on till he had
left that dark heap in the dark alley, miles and miles behind him.
Then came a flash of hope. Perhaps after all Tode was not so badly
hurt. Perhaps he had been shamming just to scare them. At this
thought, Dick's quick pace slackened and he had half a mind to go back
and see if the body still lay there, but he could not bring himself to
do that. He shivered and hurried on aimlessly, through the brightly
lighted streets. He was afraid to go home, lest he be met there by the
news that he dreaded. He was afraid to stay in the streets, for every
moment he expected to feel the heavy hand of a policeman on his
shoulder. He said to himself that Carrots and the others might inform
against him just to save themselves.
So, as wretched as a boy well could be, he wandered about for an hour
or two, stopping sometimes in dark corners and then hastening on
again, stealing suspicious glances over his shoulders, and listening
for pursuing footsteps. At last, he turned homeward, longing, yet
dreading, to see his mother.
It was nearly midnight when he crept softly up the stairs, but his
mother had been unable to sleep, and as his hand touched the door in
the darkness, she threw it open with a sigh of relief that her weary
waiting was over for that night. She did not find fault with him. It
seemed to her utterly useless now to complain or entreat.
Dick longed to ask if she knew anything about Tode, but his tongue
refused to utter the words and he tumbled into bed in gloomy silence.
There had been no shamming when Theo fell under the brutal blows of
the four boys who had set upon him. They were all strong, well-grown
lads, and striking blindly and viciously in the dark, had perhaps hit
harder than they realised. At any rate Theo had felt his strength
failing even before a last blow on his head made him unconscious of
what followed.
The "somebody," whom the boys had heard, came slouching along through
the dark alley and stumbled over the prostrate body.
"Hello! What's this?" he exclaimed, his nimble fingers running rapidly
over the boy's face and figure. "Somebody's been up to something
here. Let's see if--no! Well, that's queer!"
These disconnected remarks were the accompaniment to a rapid and
skillful search through the boy's pockets, and the last emphatic
expression was drawn forth by the discovery that there had been no
robbery; whereupon the newcomer promptly proceeded to complete the job
by emptying the said pockets in a manner that proved him no novice at
such business. Then he stole noiselessly away, leaving the boy again
alone in the darkness, and now there was no good bishop at hand to
take him in.
Meantime, at home, Nan was wondering why Theo did not come in as usual
to tell her what he had been doing at the night school, and to get
Tag, who always staid with her when Theo was at the school. Tag was
troubled and uneasy too. When it was time for the boy to come Tag sat
watching the door, his ears alert for a footstep outside. Now and then
he whined, and finally he showed so plainly his desire to go out that
Nan opened the door, saying,
"Go find him, Tag."
She stood in her doorway listening, and heard the dog scamper up to
Theo's door. There he listened and nosed about for a moment, then down
he came again, and with a short, anxious bark, dashed down the stairs
to the street. Nan waited a long time but the dog did not return, and
at last she put out her light and went to bed with a troubled heart.
But Tag could not sleep. He seemed to know that there was something
wrong and something for him to attend to. He raced first to his
master's stand, then to the mission school and to the night school,
and finding all these places now dark and silent, he pattered through
the streets, his nose close to the ground, his anxious, loving eyes
watching everything that moved. So at last he came to that dark heap
in the dark alley, and first he was wild with joy, but when his
frantic delight failed to awaken his master and make him come away
home, Tag was sure that something was very wrong indeed and he began
to run backward and forward between the motionless body and the
corner, until he attracted the attention of a policeman who followed
him around into the dark alley, and in a few minutes Theodore was on
his way to the Emergency Hospital with Tag following after the
ambulance at the top of his speed. But once again Tag found himself
rudely repulsed when he tried to slip in after his master. This time
he felt that he really could not bear it, and so he stood on the
hospital steps and lifting up his voice howled his protest until
somebody came and drove him away. But he couldn't stay away, so he
crawled into a dark corner up against the wall, and curling himself
into the smallest possible space, lay there watchful and wretched
until morning, when, after eyeing wistfully those who came out and
went in past him, he trotted slowly home to Nan, and did his poor best
to tell her what had happened and where Theo was.
Nan had passed an anxious night, for she was sure that there was
something wrong, and since Theo's return from the bishop's, he had
been so changed, that she had grown very fond of him. Being a year or
two his senior, she felt a kind of elder sisterly responsibility in
regard to him, knowing as she did, that he was even more alone in the
world than she, for she had Little Brother, and Theo had nobody at
all.
So she was at Mrs. Hunt's door, talking the matter over with her, when
Tag, with drooping head and tail, came slowly up the stairs. He wagged
his tail faintly at sight of Nan, and rubbed his head affectionately
against her, and then stood looking up at her, as if waiting to be
questioned.
"He's been gone all night," Nan was saying to Mrs. Hunt, and referring
to the dog, "but I don't believe he found Theo. He doesn't act as if
he had. Oh, Mrs. Hunt, where _do_ you suppose he is?"
Mrs. Hunt shook her head. "The dear knows," she said, "but something
must 'a' happened to him, sure. He's been steady as clockwork since
ever he took that room upstairs, I'll say that for him." She sighed as
she spoke, thinking of her Dick.
"But what can I do, Mrs. Hunt?" cried Nan, her eyes full of tears. "It
seems dreadful to keep right on, just as if he were here, as
usual. Isn't there any way to find out where he is?"
"Look here, Nan," exclaimed Mrs. Hunt.
"Do you know where his teacher--that Mr. Scott--lives?"
"Yes."
"Well, why don't you send word to him? He seems to think a lot of Tode
an' Dick. I guess he does of all his scholars. He would know what to
do, an' where to look for the boy--don't you think so?"
Nan's face had brightened as her friend spoke.
"I'm sure that's a good idea," she replied. "He's always been so nice
and kind to Theo. I most know he'll help find him."
"That's right now, child, stop fretting, for I'll warrant he'll set
things straight in no time. I'll let Dick or Jimmy go around to
Mr. Scott's as soon as they've had their breakfast."
Relieved by this promise, and trying hard to be hopeful and not to
worry, Nan ran back to her room, while Mrs. Hunt called the boys.
Dick pretended to be very sound asleep, and it required more than one
call and shake to arouse him, but in reality, he too had passed a most
miserable night, and he had listened, with heart beating fast and
hard, to his mother's colloquy with Nan; and as he listened, ever
before his mind's eye was that dark, motionless heap on the ground. In
imagination, he saw Theo's dead body on a slab in the morgue, and
himself in a prison cell, condemned for murder. Dick's worst enemy
could not have wished him to be any more wretched than he was in that
hour, as he cowered in his bed, and strained his ears to catch every
word that was uttered. But when his mother shook him, he rubbed his
eyes, and pretended to be still half asleep, and flatly refused to go
to Mr. Scott's.
"Let Jim go, 'f anybody's got to," he growled, as he began to pull on
his clothes. "Here you, Jim, turn out lively now!" he added, yanking
the bedclothes off his brother to emphasise his words.
"He's always a-puttin' off on me--Dick is," snarled Jim, as he joined
his mother in the other room a few minutes later, but when he learned
why he was to go to Mr. Scott's he made no further objections, but
swallowed his breakfast hastily, and went off on the run. Jim did not
share his brother's enmity toward the missing boy. Jim liked Theo. He
liked Nan too, and was always ready to do an errand for her, if she
wanted him.
Mr. Scott was just sitting down to breakfast when Jim appeared, and he
left his coffee to cool while he listened with keen interest to what
the boy had to tell him. His face was very grave as he said,
"Tell Miss Nan that I will be around there within an hour. See here,
though, Jim,--have you had your breakfast?"
"Ye--yes, sir," Jim answered, with a quick glance at the hot cakes and
chops that had such an appetising odour. Jim didn't have chops and hot
cakes for breakfast.
"Aunt Mary, can you put another plate here for Jim?" Mr. Scott asked,
and his aunt, with a smile, set another chair at the table, and piled
a plate with eatables, of which the boy disposed as easily and
speedily as if that had been his first meal that day.
Mr. Scott likewise made a hasty breakfast, and then he sent Jim back
to Nan, while he himself went to his place of business to arrange for
his absence that morning.
Within the hour, as he had said, he knocked at Nan's door. She
welcomed him with a feeling of glad relief, assured that at least he
would be able to find out where Theo was. He waited only to get what
little information she could give him, and then set forth, but before
he had reached the bottom of the first flight of stairs, Nan ran after
him.
"Mr. Scott," she called. "Wouldn't it be a good plan to take
Tag--Theo's dog--with you?"
Mr. Scott thought it would, but now an unexpected obstacle was
encountered. Tag refused to go with him. He crept under Nan's dress,
and crouched there, looking quietly out at the gentleman, but making
no movement toward him, though he called and whistled as persuasively
as he could.
"Oh, Tag, do go," pleaded Nan, almost ready to cry at the dog's
unexpected obstinacy.
Tag twisted his head and looked up at her, and it almost seemed as if
he were moved by her pleading tone, for, after a moment's hesitation,
he crept slowly out from his refuge, and followed Mr. Scott down the
stairs. Once outside the house he stopped and gazed with keen,
questioning eyes at the gentleman, standing, meanwhile, ready to dart
off, should any attempt be made to capture him, but Mr. Scott stopped
too, and said quietly,
"Go find him, Tag. Find Theo."
That was enough for the intelligent little creature. With a quick,
sharp yelp of satisfaction, Tag set off at such a pace that Mr. Scott
had hard work to keep him in sight. In fact, as soon as they turned
into a thronged business street, he lost sight of his four-footed
guide entirely, but the direction Tag had taken was a sufficient clue.
The young man was so certain that the Emergency Hospital was the place
to which the dog was leading him, that he boarded a car and went
directly there, and sure enough on the steps sat Tag, his short ears
erect, and his eager eyes watching impatiently for a chance to slip
inside the doors.
He seemed to know that his chance had come when he saw Mr. Scott
running up the steps, for he frisked about and showed his delight in
every conceivable fashion. Dogs were not allowed in the hospital, but
when Mr. Scott picked Tag up in his arms and promised to keep him
there, the attendant finally consented that he should do so. And so
they went first to the waiting-room and then up the stairs and through
the long corridors.
X. A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT
Theodore was still unconscious when he was lifted into the ambulance
the night before, but on the way to the hospital he opened his eyes,
wondering much to find himself flat on his back and being driven
rapidly through the streets. In a few minutes he remembered what had
happened, and guessed that he must have been stunned by a blow or a
fall. As he reached this conclusion, the vehicle stopped, and he was
lifted out and carried into the hospital in spite of his protests. He
had a dread of entering a hospital as a patient, and he wanted to go
home.
But the doctors would not allow him to go home. They told him that if
he would be quiet and do as they said, he would probably be able to go
home the next morning, and with this promise he was obliged to be
content, and allow himself to be undressed and put to bed. He was
badly bruised and his right shoulder was very lame, but there was no
serious injury, and it seemed to the boy very trying to be compelled
to spend the night where he was. He did not sleep much, partly because
of his strange surroundings, and partly because of his aching head and
shoulder, and as he lay there in the dimly-lighted ward, his thoughts
were busy.
A hot anger burned in his heart as he recalled the cowardly attack in
the dark alley. He saw that it had been deliberately planned by Dick
Hunt, and that the four boys must have followed him from the corner
where he saw them.
"I'll pay that Dick Hunt for this," he muttered under his breath, "an'
Carrots, too. I know the chap that hit so hard was Carrots. I'll make
'em suffer for it!"
He lay there, his eyes flashing and his cheeks burning, as he thought
over various schemes of vengeance. Then suddenly he thought of Mr.
Scott, and that brought something else to his remembrance. He seemed
to see his teacher holding out his little Bible and making
him--Theodore--read aloud those two verses:
"Dearly beloved avenge not yourselves."
And "Recompense to no man evil for evil."