REPENTANCE AND VICTORY.
It was some time after dark that, having till then wandered aimlessly
about by himself, Don Scott turned in at the gate of his home, passed
up the gravel walk and entered the front door. His heart felt like a
stone within him, without life even to give a fluttering start when he
found himself face to face with his father, who seemed to be waiting in
the hall.
“My son!” cried the doctor, catching him by the arm, “where have you
been? When I came home, I expected to find you here to tell me all
about it.”
“Oh, I can’t tell you!” groaned Don. “I can’t think about it! How you
must loathe me!”
The doctor was astounded. “My boy, my boy!” he exclaimed; “what do you
mean? It is you who must shrink from me, for I have heard how Leon
Bentley has confessed, clearing you of everything. I can never forgive
myself for permitting a suspicion of your possible guilt to creep into
my mind. And they say you won the game to-day by a wonderful kick after
I was suddenly called to attend a patient. I’m sorry I could not have
been there, but I’m proud of you, my son--proud of you!”
Don choked, beginning to tremble in every limb. He suffered then such
anguish and remorse as seldom comes to a person more than once in a
lifetime.
“You don’t know, father,” he said, hoarsely; “you haven’t heard----”
“They told me all about it,” insisted the doctor. “And you had genuine
grit to get up and continue playing after you were stunned. Do you feel
your injury much now?”
It was not an injury to his body that was giving the boy such exquisite
pain; it was a far deeper wound.
“Oh, I don’t care for that!” he cried, despair in his voice and manner.
“Then you should be happy,” declared his father, wondering and
perplexed over the boy’s appearance. “You were not hurt as badly as
young Renwood. Why, they had to take him home in a carriage. I met them
on the road, and they had me attend him. It was a bad knock on the
head, and might have caused concussion of the brain, but he came round
all right, and he’ll be well as ever in a day or two.”
The strength went out of Don’s legs, and he dropped heavily on the hall
seat. Up to that moment, he had thought Dolph Renwood’s blood was on
his hands.
“Father!” he panted, “is it--is it--true? Are you sure I didn’t kill
him?”
“Of course it is true; he is not seriously injured. But what are you
saying? Do you mean----”
“I struck him after the game was over. That was what ailed him.”
“And they never told me a word! Struck him, Don--with what?”
“A baseball bat,” whispered the unfortunate lad. “Oh, I’m a bad, wicked
boy! I’m not fit to be your son! I wish I’d never been born!”
Then he burst into tears, which, more than anything else, were
compelled by the relief in learning that he had not the crime of
homicide on his soul, and he was shaken by a perfect tempest of emotion.
The doctor lifted his remorseful son and led the boy into his private
office, closing the door behind them. And there in the seclusion of
that room Don unbosomed himself fully, holding nothing back, and found
relief and consolation and forgiveness.
“I know I was all wrong; I see it now,” said Don, when he had ended.
“Father, what can I do?”
“You must go to Renwood, confess everything as you have confessed to
me, humble yourself and ask his forgiveness. That is the least you can
do. In this there is one good feature, at least; Bentley’s story will
prove to the other boys that they were wrong in believing you destroyed
the football and the suits. Will you go to see Renwood, my son?”
“I’ll go, father--I’ll do anything! And as long as I live I’ll never
forget the lesson. I was to blame for everything!”
“You were to blame in letting your temper get the best of you, but you
were led into wrong-doing by your bad companion. Now you can see the
danger in associating with such a fellow.”
“I’m going to see Renwood to-night--now!” cried Don, springing up. “I
can’t sleep unless I see him!”
“Go, my boy; I think he will be in condition to see you. Go!”
Father and son walked to the front door together, the arm of the former
across the shoulders of the latter. Then the boy went out into the
darkness and hurried away.
Don feared he would not be admitted to see Dolph, but his fears were
groundless. There was some delay, and he waited anxiously in the hall;
then the maid came and conducted him to Renwood’s room.
Dolph was there, reclining on a Morris chair, wrapped in a
dressing-gown. He was pale, and there was a bandage about his head. He
looked at his visitor in speechless inquiry, while Don stood with his
head bowed and his face flushed with shame.
Renwood was the first to speak. “I’m glad you’ve come,” he said, “for
I’m aching to tell you just what I think of you; but I declare I didn’t
think you’d have the crust to show yourself here!”
His voice was full of the scorn and contempt which the persistent
injustice of his enemy had aroused to its fullest extent. The other
lad shrank a bit, lifting one hand.
“That’s right!” he hoarsely exclaimed; “you can’t say anything too mean
about me, call me what you like! I deserve it all--and more!”
Renwood was astonished by this altered attitude of his enemy, but
fancied it was fear of reprisal that had brought the boy who dealt
the blow hurrying to see him. However, before he could say anything
further, Don went on:
“I thought I was right in hating you, for I had been led to believe
you a sneak and a traitor. I have a nasty temper that it has been
impossible for me to govern in the past, but I’ll master it in the
future--or die! You have every reason to hate and despise me; but you
cannot hate and despise me more than I hate and despise myself. I
thought I had killed you, and I suffered just what I merited. But even
then I did not know what a miserable wretch I was till I went to see
Bentley in the lock-up and heard his confession.”
Renwood’s wonder was growing, for this humility and repentance were so
genuine that his doubts were dying.
“Bentley,” he muttered. “They said he had been arrested.”
“Yes, and I want you to hear just what he told me. Will you listen?”
“Go ahead.”
Then, as well as he could in his excited condition, Don told of the
confession Leon had made; and a change came over the face of the
injured lad who listened, for Dolph began to see how this repentant boy
who stood before him had been misled by his own passions and by the
deceptions of an unscrupulous and rascally companion. Don did not spare
himself in the least, and he did not try to shoulder all the blame onto
Bentley. When he told of the forged letter, he was astounded to find
that Dolph knew absolutely nothing about it. Fearing to bring further
discord into the team, Sterndale had told Renwood nothing of that
letter.
Some moments after this, on her way downstairs, Zadia Renwood passed
the door of her brother’s room. That door was ajar, so that, glancing
in, she saw two boys standing face to face, the one with his head
bandaged having both hands on the shoulders of the other, and she heard
her brother saying:
“It was a misunderstanding and a mistake, Scott, that’s all. It’s all
right now, and I think we’ll know each other better in the future.
Let’s forget it.”
When Don Scott came down from Dolph’s room, his face wore a look of
relief that was almost happiness. He found Renwood’s sister in the
hall, and she let him out.
“I’m so glad!” she said, giving him a happy smile; “I’m so glad you and
Dolph are to be friends now. I’m sure you’ll like each other.”
Alone in the night, Don halted, took off his hat and lifted his
throbbing forehead to the cool wind that came off the open sea roaring
along the Eastern Shore. The sky was heavily overcast with clouds, but,
as he looked upward, they broke and parted in one place, and through
the rift he saw a calm, pure white star.
* * * * *
The following is quoted from the Highland _Register_, published eleven
days later:
“The third and final football game of the series between Highland and
Rockspur was played last Saturday before a great crowd of spectators
in Highland, and the boys from the coast won by a score of 17 to 12.
It was a fast and furious battle from start to finish, the youngsters
on both sides fighting as if for their very lives and displaying at
times such vim, dash and courage that the witnesses were aroused to
the greatest enthusiasm and cheered themselves hoarse. Of course, it
is greatly regretted that our boys lost after being trained by such a
thoroughly experienced and capable coach as Mr. Winston; but Rockspur
also had a first-class coach in young Renwood, who played quarter-back
on the team, and the improvement of the visitors since their first
appearance here this season was something remarkable. Still, it may be
justly claimed that luck had much to do with the result of the game,
for it was Garrison’s fumble within four minutes of the close of the
game that gave Rockspur the ball and enabled the visitors to obtain the
final touchdown and goal that cooked Highland’s goose. At the time
this accident happened Highland was in the lead, the score standing 12
to 11.
“The first half was a battle of giants. Several times it seemed that
one side or the other must make a touchdown, but something happened to
prevent anything of the kind taking place, and it was a case of taking
a desperate chance after the second down, when Scott tried a drop-kick
for a goal from the twenty-five-yard line. He made it beautifully, and
the half ended with the points 5 to 0 in favor of the enemy.
“In the second half Highland put some new men on the field, and one of
the substitutes, Hardoak, soon found an opportunity to show his mettle
by going round Rockspur’s left end for a touchdown that resulted in a
goal, giving the home team a lead of one point, 6 to 5. But this simply
seemed to awaken eleven tigers from Rockspur, and the way they tore
great holes in the right wing of the Highland line was heartrending
to witness. Whenever he was given the ball to advance, Scott seemed a
perfect demon of fury, and once he actually made fourteen yards with
half the home team apparently riding on his back and shoulders. He was
finally crushed to the earth by sheer weight of numbers, but even then
he managed to squirm along for a foot or two before they could pin him
fast. And he finally slammed himself over the line for a touchdown that
netted a goal and gave his team the lead once more, 11 to 6.
“At this stage the game was most exciting, for Walker was begging his
men to take a brace and win out, and every fellow responded nobly. In
a kicking battle Highland got the advantage, and the ball was held in
Rockspur’s territory. Then, after several minutes of varying fortune,
Morse found a hole between Ford and Carter and got over the goal line
of the visitors for another touchdown, from which Walker kicked the
handsomest and most difficult goal of the day. That gave Highland
12 points and Rockspur had 11. Not a great margin, but the game was
drawing toward the end, and it seemed enough.
“Our boys fought for time, but Sterndale’s men pushed the battle with
a sort of mad fury that it was hard to withstand. When the ball came
into Highland’s possession she endeavored to retain it till the finish
of the game, and there was but four more minutes of play when Garrison
fumbled in a scrimmage and Renwood captured the ball and wiggled out
of the squirming knot of players. He got a fair start, but even then
he could not have made a goal without the assistance of Scott, who was
the only interferer that ran with him. Powell had been doing masterly
work in the way of tackling, but Scott bowled Jack over and saved
Rockspur’s quarter-back from being brought to the turf. Walker came
next, and somehow Scott had recovered from the collision with Powell
enough to be on hand and block Lee quite as effectively. Then the two
men went down a clear field, with all the others stringing after them
like a pack of hounds and the Rockspur spectators roaring like mad.
Pell had great speed, and it seemed that he was going to overtake the
runner for a tackle, but somehow Scott looked over his shoulder and got
the range of the pursuer. When Pell leaped Scott sprang sidelong before
him, and it was Scott that the tackler brought down, while Renwood ran
on and crossed Highland’s goal line with the ball. From that a goal was
kicked, with the final result as stated above; but it is to the amazing
interference of Scott more than to the run of Renwood that Rockspur
must give the glory for winning the game.”
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.