Ned Wilding's Disappearance: or, The Darewell Chums in the City. Chapman Allen
came running down the front walk. “Just in time for dinner!”
Bart wanted his chums to come into his house, but they were in a hurry to tell their folks of their safe arrival, so, shouldering their guns, and dividing the game, the boys separated.
CHAPTER VIII
GETTING SQUARE WITH SANDY
“Come Alice, help me carry this game into the house,” said Bart when the excitement over their arrival had quieted down a bit. His rabbits and the turkey were on the sled with the camp stuff.
“Is that all the luck you had?” asked Mr. Keene, as he came out on the porch to greet his son. “Why I thought you’d come loaded down. We didn’t buy anything for dinner, thinking you’d have enough.”
Bart knew by his father’s tone that he was only joking.
“We did have fine luck,” the boy replied, and then he told about the widow and how they had left her with plenty of food.
“Humph!” exclaimed Mr. Keene. “If you’d brought home any more game than you did, and hadn’t left her some I’d make you go back to Mrs. Perry without your dinner. You did right, Bart. I’m glad to hear it.”
Bart ate his Thanksgiving dinner with an appetite that astonished even himself. Jennie Smith remained, as the guest of Alice, and she kept those about the table in lively mood, reciting bits of verse.
During the course of the meal Bart told of their trip, and more about the widow.
“We didn’t hardly know what to do when that blizzard came up,” he said. “Wonder if Jim went to meet us.”
“No, he came here and said he was expected to be at the end of the corduroy road for you,” Mr. Keene explained. “I said I guessed you boys would know what to do. Besides, it is doubtful if he could have gotten his wagon through the drifts.”
In the afternoon Bart’s chums came over. Ned said he had spoken to his father about the Perry family, and Mr. Wilding was going to get Jane a place to work. Mr. Keene expressed a wish to help the widow, and arrangements were made to see that she did not suffer any more for lack of food or clothing for herself and daughters. When the roads were better Mrs. Keene went to visit Mrs. Perry, and Jane secured a place in a store in Kirkville, so she could come home every night.
“Now if we could only find the widow’s son for her we’d have that family in pretty good shape,” remarked Bart to his chums one morning early in December as they were on their way to school after the Thanksgiving holidays. “Accidentally we were able to do quite a lot for them, but I’d like to do more.”
“I’m glad Jane has a place,” observed Fenn.
“Good thing it isn’t in Darewell,” said Frank.
“Why?” asked Fenn.
“Because you’d be hanging around the store where she was whenever you had the chance, Stumpy, to see her home.”
Frank did not dodge quickly enough to escape the snowball Fenn threw at him, and caught it on the head. But he laughed good-naturedly. It was the price for his joke and he was willing to pay it.
“Let’s go skating this afternoon,” suggested Bart. “The river edge is fine almost up to the Riffles.”
“Good!” exclaimed Ned. “We’ll have a race.”
School was dismissed for the day at three o’clock and as soon as they were out the boys hurried home for their skates. The weather was crisp and cold, just right for a fine spin up the frozen stream.
The four chums were soon gliding over the smooth surface on which were a number of other boys and girls enjoying the sport.
“We haven’t room to expand here,” said Bart, after they had skated around on the broad expanse of the river near the town. “Let’s go up a mile or two.”
His chums agreed, and they were soon racing up the stream toward the “Riffles” a shallower place where, in summer, there was good fishing.
“Let’s see who’ll be first to the dead pine!” cried Bart, pointing to a lightning-blasted tree on the river’s edge about a mile up. All four dashed off at top speed.
There was little difference in the ability of the boys when it came to skating. They were as much at home on the steel runners as they were on the baseball diamond, and were speedy skaters. Forward they went, stooping over to avoid the wind resistance as much as possible, the metal of their skates singing merrily in the crisp winter air.
“Now for the last rush!” cried Bart, as he put on an extra burst of speed. His companions responded to the call, but Bart had a little the best of them, and was first at the goal.
“I’ll beat you going back!” cried Ned.
“Let’s rest a while,” suggested Frank. “What’s that?”
The boys turned suddenly at the sound of loud shouting on the road which, at this point, ran close to the river. It was someone trying to stop a team of horses, attached to a sleigh and, to judge by the noise, the animals were running away.
“Whoa! Whoa there!” cried the driver.
An instant later the team dashed from the road and came straight for the river, the driver trying in vain to stop them.
“It’s Sandy Merton!” exclaimed Bart.
Before the boys could say any more the horses had run out on the ice of the river, near the chums. Fortunately it was thick enough to bear the weight of the animals or it might have proved a disastrous runaway. As it was, Sandy, in trying to stop the horses, lost one rein. He pulled sharply on the other and the steeds, obeying it, turned quickly to the left. In an instant the sleigh, with its load of feed, in bags, was overturned on the ice and Sandy was spilled out.
“Quick! Grab the horses!” cried Bart, and the chums were soon at the bridles. But the animals appeared satisfied with the damage they had done, and stood still. Sandy picked himself up, for he was not hurt, and came to the heads of the horses. He looked at the overturned sleigh, with the bags of feed scattered on the ice, and murmured:
“I’ll catch it for this.”
“I rather guess he will,” said Bart in a low tone, as the temper of Silas Weatherby, for whom Sandy worked, was well known in that locality.
For a few moments Sandy stood surveying the scene. It looked as if it would take several men to set matters right, even if the sleigh was not broken. Then Sandy, with a sigh, set to work unhitching the horses. He led them from the ice and tied them to a tree on shore. Then he began moving the bags of feed so as to get a clear place around the vehicle. The chums watched him for a few minutes. They were thinking, as no doubt Sandy was, of that day when he had refused them a lift.
“It’s a good chance to get square,” murmured Bart to his companions. “We could sit down and watch him sweat over this, and laugh – but we won’t!” he added quickly. “That isn’t our way. We’ll get square with Sandy by helping him out in his trouble. That’ll make him feel just as badly as if we sat and laughed at him.”
It was an application of the Biblical injunction of heaping coals of fire, but it is doubtful if the boys thought of it in that light.
“Come on!” cried Bart. He began to take off his skates, and his chums followed his example. Then, to the great surprise of Sandy, they began to help him move the bags away so they could get at the sled.
“Say – say – fellows – ” began Sandy, as the thought of his own mean conduct, that day on the road, came to him. “Say – I don’t deserve this. I’m – ”
“You dry up!” commanded Bart.
CHAPTER IX
SANTA CLAUS IN SCHOOL
The four chums pitched in with a will and helped Sandy. They did not talk much, for, take it all in all, it was rather an embarrassing situation. Sandy did not know what to say, and the boys did not feel like entering into friendly conversation.
They