Jardin left the following week and the two boys tried to settle down
into the old groove. Bill spent a great deal of time with Frank,
watching the manoeuvers on the Field. Frank kept up the study of
aviation with surprising earnestness. He had a special gift for it and
was really a source of great pride to his instructors. Of course his
father forbade long or very high flights, but Frank soon was able to
execute any of the simpler stunts that make the air so thrilling.
Bill, who refrained from any flying even as a passenger on account of
his mother, tried to absorb as much as he could from the talk and from a
couple of the airmen who took a great fancy to the quiet, handsome boy
who asked such intelligent questions and who so soon mastered all the
technicalities of the monster dragonflies.
With a small maliciousness that surprised even himself, Frank had
dropped a hint here and there that Bill was afraid to fly, and the two
airmen, Lem Saunders and Chauncey Harringford, who were his special
friends at the Field discussed it between themselves. One day they
stopped Lee and asked him if it was true. Lee flushed under his dark,
swarthy skin, and his small, black eyes flashed angrily.
"Who says it?" he demanded.
"I don't know how it started," answered Lem. "I don't know as it matters
whether the kid is afraid or not, but it doesn't seem just like him; and
I sort of hate to think there is a grain of yellow anywhere in that good
body of his."
"I will bet all my month's pay that there isn't," affirmed Chauncey. "I
_know_ there isn't, but I wish I knew how the report started. It makes
it sort of hard for him. The fellows guy him."
"I wish _I_ could be there when they do. I know one soldier who would
have a ticket for the guardhouse for fighting in about ten minutes."
"It is not as bad as that," said Chauncey. "The fellows don't mean any
harm, only young Frank is such a whiz and even that green little sprout
of a Jardin flew like a swallow. And here is Bill, by far the best of
the three, won't go off the ground but just shakes his head and grins if
you ask him why not."
"I know the reason," said Lee firmly. "It is a good one, too. Do you
know his mother? No? Well, she is more like an angel than a human
being." Lee took off his campaign hat as he spoke, as though he could
not talk of Mrs. Sherman while he remained covered.
"She is perfect," he continued. "So gentle, so sweet; and such a true
friend! But she has a very weak heart. There is something wrong, very
wrong about it, and Major Sherman has told me that a shock might kill
her. And what greater shock could there be than something happening to
her only son? Major Sherman told me that he had explained it to Bill,
and that Bill never did one thing to worry his mother. If he says he
will come home at a certain time, he gets there. When he is away, at
Lawton or Medicine Park or any place like that, he telephones her a
couple of times to let her know he is all right. That boy is a peach, I
can tell you! There are dozens of things he doesn't do on her account.
And he never complains. He doesn't wait for her to ask him not to,
either. It is awfully hard on him, I can tell you, because he is the
most fearless and daring boy of his age I have ever seen. He wants to
try everything going." Lee looked wistful. "I wish _I_ could hear
someone say Bill is a coward!"
"They don't go as far as that," said Chauncey soothingly. "They just guy
him a little."
"They will stop guying if _I_ hear them," said Lee doggedly. "The boy
has every kind of courage that there is and some day will prove it. But
never, never if it will distress his mother. He will bear all the slurs
and insults in the world rather than hurt her."
"Jimminy, old fellow, you take it too hard!" said Lem, laughing. "All
the fellows do is guy him, and we will see to it that they stop that,
you can bank on it. Chance here and me will never see the kid abused. I
am some scrapper myself, if it comes to that!"
He pounded Lee cheerfully on the back and that young man smiled in spite
of himself. Turning, he caught Lem, a six footer and heavy, and with
what seemed a playful little clasp raised him from the ground and tossed
him over his shoulder where he hung balanced for a minute before Lee
gently eased him to the ground. Chauncey was round-eyed with amazement
and Lem sputtered, "Lee, you wizard, you! How in the world did you do
that? Why, I am twice your size!"
"Just a little Indian trick that I learned a good while ago when I used
to visit some cousins of mine. There were two young bucks who used to
wrestle with me, and I learned a lot from them. I have been teaching
Bill, and he can almost beat me at my own game. You don't have to be big
like you, Lem. Do you want to see me throw you twenty feet over my
head?"
"Why, you loon, I should say not!" said Lem, backing off.
"Oh, be a sport, Lem, and let me see the fun!" cried Chauncey.
But Lem refused to be obliging. For a man who did not care how high or
how far he flew, he was strangely unwilling to let himself be tossed out
on the prairie to amuse Chance or anyone else.
Lee walked off laughing. The others stood looking after him.
"The only Indian thing about him is his color and his walk. Do you
notice how he puts one foot down right in front of the other as though
he was walking along a narrow trail?"
"He is one of the straightest fellows I have ever known," said Lem,
feeling of his neck and waggling his head to see if it was all right
after its late experience with Lee. "I am glad to know about Bill. He
understands every last thing there is about a plane, and it did seem so
funny that he would never leave the ground. It is a wonderful chance for
those kids to stand in over here, you know. They are getting the best
training in the world in the flying game. I had commenced to think Bill
was a perfect sissy. That little automobile of his is a wonder--a
regular racing car on a small scale--and yet he goes crawling along at
fifteen miles an hour. Well, I am glad to know how it is."
Lem fished in his pocket and found some chewing gum which he offered to
Chauncey. They strolled away in the direction of the hangars and Lee
hurried over to Major Anderson's quarters, where he found the two boys
sitting on the wide, screened veranda.
"Just waiting for you, Lee," said Bill, looking at his watch. "We must
be getting along. Do you know what I am doing these days?" he asked
Frank, who was moodily staring at Lee. "I am packing up for school."
"Why didn't you begin last Christmas?" asked Frank, coming out of his
dream.
"There is always such a lot of things to attend to at the last second
and I am getting all my traps in shape."
"Mother is packing for me," said Frank. "I wish we didn't have to go. I
will be all out of practice with the planes by the time we have a chance
to fly again. I wonder where Jardin is going to school?"
"Have you heard from him lately?" asked Bill.
"Not a word since he went away. Mother thought it was funny he didn't
write her a note to thank her for entertaining him. His father wrote her
instead."
"Did Jardin know where we are going?" asked Bill.
"We didn't know ourselves when he left, and I can't write and tell him,
because for all I know he may be in Europe by this time."
"_I_ am just as well pleased," said Bill. "You know I never did have any
use for him, and I think we will get along a good deal better with the
other fellows and with the teachers if he is not there as a friend of
ours."
"You were always down on him and for nothing," said Frank. "I think he
is all right. And he has the money, too."
"Well, you don't want to sponge, do you?" asked Bill.
"Of course not!" said Frank, flushing. "You are such a nut about things!
Of course I don't mean _sponge_, but money is the only thing that will
put you in right at school or anywhere else."
"That sounds just like Jardin," replied Bill. "Well, if that is so, what
do you suppose I am going to do on about nine cents a week? What are you
going to do yourself?"
"I don't know, but if there is any money to be had, I am going to get
it."
"How are you going to go about it?" asked Bill as he stepped into the
Swallow and prepared to start.
"I don't know," answered Frank, still sitting with his chin in his
hands. "Beg it, or borrow it, or steal it."
Bill threw in the clutch and the Swallow sped away.
Frank was left to his own bitter thoughts. Money! He had brooded over
his lack of it and had remembered Jardin's assurance that to have a good
time in school he must have a pocketful of money at all times. Frank had
changed his mind about school. He was going for the good time he
expected to have. He only wished that he was going with Jardin instead
of with Bill Sherman. What Bill had said about sponging had stung him.
Now he knew that he must obtain what he wanted somehow and somewhere.
His mother could not give it to him; his father would not. He had
nothing to sell that was of any value. Yes, there was one thing. He
could pawn his watch, that beautiful watch that had been his
grandfather's and which he was to use when he was twenty-one. In the
meantime it was _his_, left him by his grandfather's will. On the spur
of the moment he rose and hurried into the house. Why had he not thought
of it before? It was a repeater, that watch, and his grandfather had
paid nearly a thousand dollars for it. He would sell it. He hurried into
the house and to his mother's room: he knew where she always kept her
jewel case hidden. The watch was there and putting it in his pocket,
Frank hurried out of the house.
Bill and Lee took it slowly as usual going back to school, stopping to
watch the big observation balloon come down to anchor.
"I am sorry about Frank," Bill remarked as they turned and skirted the
parade ground in New Post. "I never saw a fellow change so in such a
short time. He is brooding all the time and is as grouchy as he can be.
I wish there was something I could do for him."
"Just what I was thinking," said Lee. "Do you suppose his folks would
mind if I gave him the money he wants? I am getting an awful wad down
there in the bank. I am always in right with my grandfather because I
can talk his sign language and because I look more like an Indian than
some of the real ones. I would be awfully glad to give him five or six
hundred dollars."
"That is perfectly fine of you, Lee, but I know they would not want you
to do such a thing, because they would think it was simply wild to have
Frank have a large sum. At the school we are going to, there is a rule
that the boys are not to have money. There is a small sum deposited with
the principal and he gives us what he thinks we ought to have. More for
the big fellows and less for the little ones, and none at all if we
don't behave."
Lee looked disappointed.
"That's too bad," he said, patting Bill on the shoulder with a rare
caress. "I was going to get Major Sherman to let me divvy up with you."
"You are all right, Lee, old man," said Bill, "but honest, I won't need
money. What I will want is a letter from you once in awhile. That will
be the best thing you can do for me. Gee, I know I am just about going
to die with homesickness. Why, I was never away from my mother before in
my life! I can tell you, I will never be away from home any more than I
can help. Home folks are good enough for me," he laughed.
Lee stuck to the subject. "What if I should _lend_ Frank the money he
wants?" he persisted.
"I tell you, old dear, he won't be allowed to have money at all."
"What is to prevent it if they don't know it?" asked Lee.
"Why, _he_ wouldn't want to break the rules," said Bill. "There is no
fun in breaking rules. You can get enough fun without that."
"All right," said Lee, "but the Indian part of me is having a bad hunch
about Frank. You watch and see. He is going to get into trouble, and I
think it will have something to do with this money he wants so much."
"I hate to have you say that," from Bill. "Your hunches come to time
pretty sharply; but I will simply keep an eye on him and try to keep him
out of trouble. It is lucky we are not going to the same school with
Jardin."
"Do you know that you are not?" said Lee with a queer smile.
"Yes, I _do_ know, and for two reasons. We did not know where we were
going when he was here and, second place, the school we are going to is
not swell enough for Jardin."
"Look for him when you get there," remarked Lee.
"Oh, wow!" cried Bill, sending the Swallow in a long sweep to the back
step of the quarters in B2. "If you keep this hunch business up, Lee,
you will be getting up as a fortune-teller. We are through with Jardin
for a good while, I am thinking."
They were not through with Jardin's influence at least. If it had not
been for his tales and suggestions, Frank would not at that moment have
been walking the streets of Lawton, his grandfather's splendid watch in
his pocket, hunting for a pawnshop that looked inviting. He came to one
with a window filled with diamond rings and watches that were certainly
not in the class with the timepiece he was carrying. That seemed a good
place to go. With so many ordinary watches on hand, they would
appreciate as fine a one as he carried.
He looked in the window, then walked boldly in with the air of a person
who wishes to buy something. He did it so well that the proprietor came
forward with a beaming smile.
The smile faded when Frank laid the watch on the counter and the man
pierced him with a keen look. He took the watch and turned it over.
"What is your name?" he asked suddenly.
Frank looked up in surprise.
"I don't see as that has anything to do with it," he replied stiffly.
"It has a good deal to do with it," said the man. "That is not the sort
of a watch a boy your age carries. Not on your life it isn't! Now where
did you get that watch? Did you steal it? That is the question. Are you
selling it for someone else? That's what I want to know. We are
licensed dealers here, and we got to be pertected. Come across, young
feller, come across! What's your name?"
"Bill Sherman," said Frank, and was sorry as soon as he had said it. But
he did not dare retract his words.
"So far, so good!" said the man to whom the name meant nothing. "Now,
Bill Sherman, where did you get this watch?"
"It is mine," said Frank, "and I am not selling it; I want to pawn it."
"If Bill Sherman can afford to own a watch like that, why then should he
pawn it? Looks like he ought to have plenty of money."
"I do mostly," said Frank, red and fidgeting. "But I am short just at
present, and that is my own watch that my grandfather willed to me so I
thought I would pawn it for awhile."
"I don't know," said the man. "I got boys of my own. But if I don't take
it you will go somewhere else. So what's the difference? What do you
expect to get for it?"
"Grandfather paid nearly a thousand dollars for it!" said Frank. "Would
you think six hundred dollars about right?"
Then for a moment Frank thought the pawnshop man was going to have a
fit, a fit of large and dreadful proportions, right on the premises. His
eyes bulged; he choked and gurgled. It was really awful, and Frank could
not help wishing himself home again, watch and all. Even with the
coveted sum so close within reach, he was sick of the whole thing.
Presently the pawnshop man came to himself a little.
He leaned across the counter and said softly, "Would you please say that
again?"
"Six hundred dollars," repeated Frank.
"Say," said the man, leaning confidentially toward the boy, "what a
joker you are! That's good enough for vaudeville, I'll say! Well, we've
laughed enough at that, ain't we? And I feel so funny about it that I
will give you a good price for the watch. What do you guess it is?" He
leaned closer. "Twenty-five dollars."
"_Twenty-five dollars!_" gasped Frank. "Why, my grandfather paid 'most a
thousand dollars for it!"
"Sure, I don't doubt it; and so did George Washington have a watch
bigger than this that cost a lot of money but I would not give more than
twenty-five dollars for either one of 'em."
"I can't take that," said Frank, looking so shocked and disappointed
that the man knew that he would end by accepting.
"Twenty-five is as high as I can go," said the man. "We got to pertect
ourselves."