HOW VAN BORE HIS PUNISHMENT
The spring term passed much faster than either Bob or Van dreamed it
would and despite the absence of athletics Van Blake found plenty to
do to fill the gap left by this customary activity.
In the first place there was his studying. Had not Bob assumed an
obligation that must be lived up to and that was quite as binding as
if it existed on paper instead of in a mere invisible point of
honor? He was very grateful to Bob and had given bond that he would
live up to the pledge his chum had made for him. Now he must fulfil
his promise, Van argued. So although the call of the springtime was
strong and difficult to resist he had been faithful to his work,
"plugging away," as he expressed it, with all his strength. To his
surprise the task, so irksome at first, became interesting. It was
a novel experience to enter a classroom and instead of moving in a
mental haze possess a clear idea of what was going on. Twice he was
able to furnish the correct answers to Latin questions on which
every one else had failed, and what a thrill of satisfaction
accompanied the performance!
The attitude of his teachers changed, too. Formerly they had been
polite; now they became even cordial, demonstrating by an
unsuspected friendliness that they were after all ordinary human
beings and rather likable ones at that. They were moreover amazingly
sympathetic and met every endeavor of Van's with generous aid.
Perhaps schools were not the prison-houses he had formerly thought
them!
There had, of course, been no chance to conceal from the boys the
reason of his banishment from the ball field and tennis-courts; such
a story as the motor accident travels with insidious speed. Before
a day had passed from one end of Colversham to the other everybody
knew that Van Blake had disobeyed the school rules and had in
consequence forfeited his place in out-of-door sports. Van, however,
was a great favorite and the manly way in which he accepted his
penalty provoked nothing but admiration and respect from his
classmates. He frankly admitted his mistake, owning that while his
sentence was severe it was perfectly just; nor would he permit a
word of criticism of Dr. Maitland's decree to be voiced in his
hearing.
"Maitland is all right!" was his hearty endorsement, and that remark
was the only encouragement his pals received when they came to
condone with him.
Gradually the affair dropped out of sight. Van went among the boys,
cheerily giving advice as to the make-up of the school teams and
even coaching the fellow who was to serve as his successor as
pitcher on the nine.
Nevertheless there still remained quite a margin of leisure, and it
was during this lonely interval when every one else was training for
the coming games that he would stray off by himself and visit little
Tim McGrew. Between the two a peculiar friendship sprang up. On
Van's part it arose from forlornness mingled with a half formulated
belief that he must do something to express his thankfulness that he
himself had escaped from the fate that had overtaken the child. On
the small lad's side it had its root in gratitude and hero-worship.
In Tim's eyes Van Blake was an all-powerful person. Was it not he
who had picked him up and carried him to the hospital? And had not
this same big schoolboy bought the beautiful wheel-chair that
enabled one to travel about the house and yard almost as readily as
if on foot? In addition to all this was it not Van who came often to
the house, never forgetting to bring in his pocket some toy or
picture-book? Small things they often were--these gifts that meant
so much to the child--often things of very slight money value; but
to the invalid whose long, tedious days of convalescence were
stretches of monotony the tiny presents seemed treasures from an
enchanted land.
Tim was now at home in the shabby cottage on the outskirts of
Colversham where he lived with his mother and four sisters. Poor as
the place was it was spotlessly neat and Tim's family were
spotlessly tidy too. Mrs. McGrew, who supported her household by
doing washing for some of the families in the town, might have had
a permanent and much more lucrative position elsewhere had it not been
for leaving her five little ones; as it was, she clung to her
children, struggling to meet her living expenses as best she could.
It had been a sore grief to her when Tim, her only boy and the baby
of the home, had become crippled. Perhaps she sensed more clearly
than did the lad the full seriousness of the calamity. As for Tim,
he accepted it in childish fashion, hopefully ignoring the problems
of the future.
To Van Blake Mrs. McGrew was all gratitude. Of all her children her
boy was her favorite.
"But for you, sir, little Timmie might have been left at the
roadside to die," she would exclaim over and over. "We'll never
forget it--never--neither I nor the children!"
It was thus that Van became the hero of the McGrew household, and
the warmth and genuineness of the welcome he unfailingly received
there aroused in him an answering friendliness. Many a time when he
saw things either new or interesting he would find himself
instinctively saying:
"I must tell Tim about that," or "I must take that to Tim."
But with his enthronement as the sovereign of Tim's universe there
came to Van a very disquieting experience. Tim thought his big
friend knew everything, and in consequence whenever he became
puzzled about facts that were being read to him or that he heard he
would instantly appeal to Van, whom he was sure could right every
sort of dilemma that might arise. But too often the unlucky Van was
forced to blush and falter that he would have to look it up; and
when he did so he frequently learned something himself. For Tim
never forgot. No sooner would Van be inside the gate than the shrill
little voice would pipe: "And did you find out how far away Mars is,
Mr. Blake?"
Poor Van, it kept him scrambling to satisfy Tim McGrew's
intellectual curiosity, yet there was a tang in the game that
rendered it very interesting. He found, too, ample reward in seeing
the wee invalid's face brighten when the query was answered.
So the spring sped on.
In the meantime Van had heard only irregularly from his parents. In
a long letter to his father he had sent all the facts of his
disgrace at school and had added that he was truly sorry; the reply
he received had been terse and rather stern but not unkind. Mr.
Blake expressed much regret for his son's conduct and closed his
epistle with the caustic comment that he should look for a proof of
Van's desire to make good. That was all. Van knew that Dr. Maitland
had also written; but what he did not know was that with the
fearlessness so characteristic of him Bob Carlton had taken the time
and trouble to pen a long note to Colorado as a plea for his chum.
It was a remarkable composition from a boy so young--a letter full
of affection and earnestness and voicing a surprising insight into
his friend's character and disposition. Mr. Blake read it over three
times, and when he finished sat in a reverie with it still between
his fingers. The tone of it was so like the man he had known long
ago, that friend from whom a misunderstanding that now seemed
pitiably trivial had separated him. It had been his fault; Mr. Blake
could see that now. He had been both hasty and unjust. Over him
surged a great wave of regret. Well, it was too late to mend the
matter at this late day. One chance was, however, left him--to make
up to the son for the injustice done the father.
It therefore came about that at the close of the school term Bob
Carlton was overjoyed to receive from Van's parents an invitation to
come west with their boy and pass the summer holidays. Such a
miracle seemed too good to be a reality, and the lads' instant fear
was that the Carltons would be unwilling to spare Bob from home for
such a long time. To their surprise, however, Mr. Carlton welcomed
the plan with enthusiasm. A trip to Colorado would be a wonderful
opportunity, the educational value of which could scarcely be
estimated, he argued. Underneath this most excellent reason there
also existed on Mr. Carlton's part a desire to show his former
partner that he cherished no ill will for the past. Who knew but the
boy might even be a messenger of peace?
So one June morning, after bidding good-bye to Colversham and to Tim
McGrew, the two lads set forth on their western journey. They were
in high spirits. Both had passed the examinations with honors, and
as Van thought of his achievement again and again he wondered if it
could be true that he was one of that light-hearted band who were
starting off on their summer vacation with no conditions to work
off.
The solitary cloud on the horizon was the grief of little Tim at
having his friend go. But Van promised there should be letters--lots
of them--and post-cards, too, all along the route; the parting would
not be for long anyway.
These were some of the thoughts that surged through Van's mind as he
and Bob settled themselves into their places on the train and began
the attempt to fathom the reams of directions Mr. Blake had sent
them; pages and pages there were of what to do and what not to do on
the long trip, the letter closing with the single sentence:
"I am trusting you to make this journey alone because I believe your
chum, Bob Carlton, has a level head."
"If your own head is not level, Bobbie, it is at least an honor to
be associated with a head that is," remarked Van humorously. "I
guess that is about all the recommendation you need from Dad, old
boy. I wonder how he happened to take such a fancy to you without
ever having met you."
"I wonder," echoed Bob quietly.