CHAPTER VII
A STRANGE CONFESSION
"Say, Jack," began Nat at breakfast a little later, "what are you goingto the village for?"
"Got to get something Aunt Angelina sent me," replied our hero. "I got aletter saying she had forwarded me a package by express. It's got someheavy underwear in it for one thing, but I know enough of my aunt toknow that's not all that's in it."
"What else?"
"Well, I shouldn't be surprised if there were some pies and doughnutsand cakes and----"
"Quit!" begged Bony, who sat on the other side of Jack. "You make mehungry."
"What's the matter with this grub?" inquired Jack.
"Oh, it's all right as far as it goes----"
"Smithering slaboleens!" exclaimed Nat. "Doesn't it go far enough inyou, Bony?" and he looked at his tall chum. "Do you want it to go allthe way to your toes?"
"No; but when I hear Jack speak of pies and doughnuts----"
"You'll do more than hear me speak of them if they come, Bony," went onJack. "We'll have a little feast in my room to-night, when Martin, themonitor, is gone to bed."
"When are you going?" asked Nat.
"Right after dinner. Want to come along? I guess you can get permission.I did."
"Nope. I've got to stay here and bone up on geometry. I flunked twicethis week, and Doc. Mead says I've got to do better. Take Bony."
"Not for mine," said Bony, shivering as he looked out of the window andsaw the snow still coming down. "I'm going to stay in."
"Then I'll go alone," decided Jack, and he started off soon after themidday meal. The storm was not a severe one, though it was cold and thesnow was quite heavy. It was a good three-mile walk to the village, butJack had often taken it.
He was about a mile from the school, and was swinging along the countryroad, thinking of many things, when, through the white blanket ofsnowflakes, he saw a figure just ahead of him on the highway.
"That looks familiar," he said to himself. "That's Will Williams. Wonderwhat he can be doing out here? Guess he's going to town also. I'll catchup with him. I wish I could get better acquainted with him, but he goesin his shell as soon as I try to make friends."
He hastened his pace, but it was slow going on account of the snow. WhenJack was about a hundred yards behind Will he was surprised to see theodd student suddenly turn off the main road and make toward a chain ofsmall hills that bordered it on the right.
"That's queer," murmured Jack. "I wonder what he's doing that for?"
He stood still a moment, looking at Will. The new boy kept on, ploddingthrough the snow, which lay in heavy drifts over the unbroken path hewas taking.
"Why, he's heading for the ravine," said Jack to himself. "He'll be lostif he goes there in this storm, and it's dangerous. He may fall down thechasm and break an arm or a leg."
The ravine he referred to was a deep gully in the hills, a wild,desolate sort of place, seldom visited. It was in the midst of thickwoods, and more than once solitary travelers had lost their way there,while one or two, unfamiliar with the suddenness with which the chasmdipped down, had fallen and been severely hurt.
"What in the world can he want out there?" went on Jack. "I'd betterhail him. Guess he doesn't know the danger, especially in a storm likethis, when bad holes are likely to be hidden from sight."
He hurried forward, and then, making a sort of megaphone of his hands,called out:
"Williams! I say, Williams, where are you going?"
The new boy turned quickly, looked back at Jack, and then continued hisjourney.
"Hey! Come back!" yelled our hero. "You'll be lost if you go up in thosehills. It's dangerous! Come on back!"
Williams stopped again, and turned half around.
"Guess he didn't hear me plainly," thought Jack. "I'll catch up to him.Wait a minute," he called again, and he hastened forward, Will waitingfor him.
"Where are you going?" asked Jack, when he had caught up to him.
"I don't know," was the answer, and Jack was struck by the lad'sdespondent tone.
"Don't you know there's a dangerous ravine just ahead here?" went onJack. "You might tumble in and lose your life."
"I don't care if I do lose my life," was the unexpected rejoinder.
"You don't care?" repeated Jack, much surprised.
"No."
"Do you realize what you're saying?" asked Jack sternly.
"Yes, I do. I don't care! I want to be lost! I never want to see anyone again! I came out here--I don't care what becomes of me--I'd like tofall down under the snow and--and die--that would end it all!"
Then, to Jack's astonishment, Will burst into tears, though he bravelytried to stifle them.
"Well--of all the----" began Jack, and words failed him. Clearly he hada most peculiar case to deal with. He took a step nearer, and put hisarm affectionately around Will's shoulder. Then he patted him on theback, and his own voice was a trifle husky as he said:
"Say, old man, what's the matter? Own up, now, you're in trouble. MaybeI can help you. It doesn't take half an eye to see that's something'swrong. The idea of a chap like you wanting to die! It's nonsense. Youmust be sick. Brace up, now! Tell me all about it. Maybe I can helpyou."
There was silence, broken only by Will's half-choked sobs.
"Go ahead, tell me," urged Jack. "I'll keep your secret, and help you ifI can. Tell me what the trouble is."
"I will!" exclaimed the new boy with sudden determination. "I will tellyou, Jack Ranger, but I don't think you can help me. I'm the mostmiserable lad at Washington Hall."
"You only think so," rejoined Jack brightly. "Go ahead. I'll wager wecan make you feel better. You want some friends, that's what you want."
"Yes," said Will slowly, "I do. I need friends, for I don't believe I'vegot a single one in the world."
"Well, you've got one, and that's me," went on Jack. "Go ahead, now,let's hear your story."
And then, standing in the midst of the storm, Will told his pitifultale.
"My father and mother have been dead for some time," he said, "and forseveral years I lived with my uncle, Andrew Swaim, my mother's brother.He was good to me, but he had to go out West on business, and he left mein charge of a man named Lewis Gabel, who was appointed my guardian.
"This Gabel treated me pretty good at first, for my uncle sent moneyregularly for my board. Then, for some reason, the money stopped coming,and Mr. Gabel turned mean. He hardly gave me enough to eat, and I had towork like a horse on his farm. I wrote to my uncle, but I never got ananswer.
"Then, all at once, my uncle began sending money again, but he didn'tstate where he was. After that I had it a little easier, until some onestole quite a sum from Mr. Gabel. He's a regular miser, and he lovesmoney more than anything else. He accused me of robbing him, anddeclared he wouldn't have me around his house any longer.
"So he sent me off to this school, but he doesn't give me a cent ofspending money, and pays all the bills himself. He still thinks I stolehis money, and he says he will hold back my spending cash, which myuncle forwards, until he has made up the amount that was stolen.
"I tried to prove to him that I was innocent, but he won't believe me.He is always writing me mean letters, reminding me that I am a thief,and not fit for decent people to associate with. I'm miserable, and Iwish I was dead. I got a mean, accusing letter from him to-day, and itmade me feel so bad that I didn't care what became of me. I wanderedoff, and I thought if I fell down and died under the snow it would be agood thing."
"Say, you certainly are up against it," murmured Jack. "I'd like to gethold of that rascally guardian of yours. But why don't you tell youruncle?"
"I can't, for I don't know his address."
"But he sends money for your schooling and board to Mr. Gabel, doesn'the?"
"Yes, but he sends cash in a letter, and he doesn't even register it. Iwrote to the postal authorities of the Western city where his letterswere mailed, but they said they could give me no information."
"What is your uncle doing in the West?"
"He is engaged in some secret mission. I never could find out what itis, and I don't believe Mr. Gabel knows, either. Oh, but Gabel is a meanman! He seems to take delight in making me miserable. Now you know why Iact so queerly. I like a good time, and I like to be with the fellows,but I haven't a cent to spend to treat them with, and I'm not going toaccept favors that I can't return. Why, I haven't had a cent to spendfor myself in six months!"
Jack whistled.
"That's tough," he said. "But say, Will, you're mistaken if you thinkour crowd cares anything for money. Why didn't you say something aboutthis before?"
"I--I was ashamed to."
"Why, we thought you didn't like us," went on Jack. "Now I see that wewere mistaken. I wish we had Mr. Gabel here. We'd haze him first, andthrow him into the lake afterward. Now, Will, I'll tell you what you'regoing to do?"
"What?" asked the lad, who seemed much better in spirits, now that hehad made a confession.
"In the first place, you're coming to the village with me," said Jack."Then you're going to forget all about your troubles and about dyingunder the snow. Then, when I get a bundle from home, you're coming backwith me, and----"
"Home!" exclaimed Will with a catch in his voice. "How good that wordsounds! I--I haven't had a home in so long that--that I don't know whatit seems like."
"Well, we're going to make you right at home here," went on Jack. "I'mexpecting a bundle of good things from my aunt, and when it comes, why,you and me and Nat and Sam and Bony and Fred and Bob, and some otherchoice spirits, are going to gather in my room to-night, and we're goingto have the finest spread you ever saw. I'll make you acquainted withthe boys, and then we'll see what happens. No spending money? As if wecared for that! Now, come on, old chap, we'll leg it to the village, forit's cold standing here," and clapping Will on the back, Jack linked hisarm in that of the new boy and led him back to the road.