CHAPTER XX.
BILL DEAN.
Jack was a very proud boy when he came down the lane to the farmhouseleading the docile animal by the halter.
He hoped to reach the door before Aunt Nancy should see him; but thelittle woman was sitting under the old oak wondering what business Mr.Souders had on hand which required the cripple's presence.
He was half way from the main road to the house when she saw him, andcried in astonishment,--
"Bless my soul, Jack, have you been and made a trade with Mr. Treatafter what I said?"
"Indeed I haven't! Jest wait till you see what's on this beauty's horn,an' then you'll know all about it."
Aunt Nancy could not curb her curiosity until the animal was led in, butran forward with Louis in her arms, Jack stopping the cow that she mightread that which was written on the card.
The little woman was bewildered.
She could hardly realize the animal was a present until Jack repeatedagain and again what Mr. Souders had said, and then it was thehunchback's turn to be bewildered, for instead of expressing hergratitude, she sat down on the grass, regardless of possible stains toher dress, and began to cry heartily.
"Why, I thought you'd be glad," Jack said in a tone of disappointment,while Louis pulled at the little woman's ringlets to show his sympathyfor what seemed to be grief.
"So--so--so I am--Jack dear; but--but--it doesn't seem right that peopleshould do so--so--so much for me."
"It wouldn't be enough if they'd sent a thousand cows."
"But for you I might never have had poor old crumple-horn replaced."
"Of course you would. That was wrote on the card only to make me feelbetter about what Mrs. Souders did; but she'd given you this all thesame."
Aunt Nancy refused to look at it in that light, and Jack became confusedat being overwhelmed with thanks.
The little woman insisted on tracing the gift directly to his visit toTreat's store, thus giving him nearly all the credit, until theconversation became really painful.
"Let's take her out to the pasture, for she must be hungry by thistime," he said, as a means of putting an end to the words of gratitudewhich he believed were undeserved.
This aroused Aunt Nancy to a sense of the situation as nothing elsecould have done, for the thought that anything around her might besuffering would always cause her to forget herself, and she followedJack, who had lifted Louis to the cow's back to give him a ride.
It was a sort of triumphal procession which halted at the pasture barsin order that Aunt Nancy might inspect more closely her new pet.
"Seems wrong to say anything disparaging of poor old crumple-horn aftershe has served me faithfully for so many years, but I must confess thiscow looks as if she might be a better milker."
"I'll bet she's the best in town," Jack replied enthusiastically, as hepulled clover for the gentle animal to eat.
"Not quite that, Jack dear, for Deacon Downs has a Jersey that leadseverything."
"At any rate his cow can't be as kind as this one."
"That may be," Aunt Nancy replied meditatively as she kissed the fawncolored nose. "I do really think we couldn't have found a bettersubstitute for poor old crumple-horn."
Then the animal was examined critically, without a single flaw havingbeen found, and not until half an hour was spent in this manner couldshe be allowed to enter the pasture.
Aunt Nancy thought it her duty to see Mrs. Souders at the earliestopportunity in order to thank her for the gift, and decided to do so onthe following morning when the breakfast dishes had been cleared away.
Jack went to clean the stall in the barn for the new cow's occupancy,and was working industriously when he fancied he heard a cry of distresscoming from the direction of the duck pond.
His first thought was that Louis had strayed again, but on looking out,both he and the little woman were seen under the big oak, apparently ashappy and contented as well could be.
Believing he had been deceived by his fancy, he resumed the work, butonly to stop an instant later as the cries sounded more distinct.
This time there could be no mistake, and he ran toward Aunt Nancy as heasked,--
"Do you hear that noise? I'm goin' to see what it means."
As he went rapidly across the fields without waiting for a reply, thelittle woman followed him, but her pace was slow because of having thebaby in her arms.
The cries continued almost incessantly, and by them Jack was guided to aclump of large trees standing near one end of the pond within a fewyards of the spot where Louis had been set adrift on the raft.
It was not necessary to search long for the sufferer.
Lying on the ground, held firmly down by a huge limb of a tree which hadfallen across his breast in such a manner that he could not use hisarms, was Bill Dean.
His face was pale, whether from pain or fear Jack had no means ofascertaining, for the boy did not wait to be questioned, but criedpiteously,--
"O Hunchie, help me outer this scrape an' I won't ever play tricks onyou agin!"
This promise was not necessary to enlist Jack's sympathy.
It was a boy in agony and not an enemy he saw before him; the onlyquestion in his mind was how the rescue could be effected.
"Lay still, an' I'll do the best I can; but it may hurt a little morewhen I try to lift the limb."
Kneeling that he might get his shoulder under one end of the heavybranch, Jack tried to raise it, but in vain.
He was making the second effort, Bill moaning piteously meanwhile, whenAunt Nancy arrived, and she, like Jack, thought only of relievingsuffering.
"Where are you hurt, William?" she asked anxiously.
"I don't know, but it seems as if the ache was all over my body."
"How did the accident happen?"
"I was choppin' this limb off to build a new raft, an' it fell on me."
"Can you lift it, Jack dear?"
"I'm afraid not; it's terribly heavy."
"Let me help you."
The two strained and tugged all to no purpose, when, as he paused toregain his breath and wipe the perspiration from his face, Jack said,--
"I could cut away part of it if I had an axe."
"Mine is around here somewhere," Bill said with a groan.
Jack soon found the tool, and, working very cautiously lest he shouldcause the sufferer yet more pain, chopped here and there to remove thelarger twigs, while Aunt Nancy bathed Bill's pale face with herhandkerchief wetted in the pond.
"Where are you hurt, William?" asked Aunt Nancyanxiously.--Page 252.]
It required nearly half an hour of the most fatiguing labor to performthe task, and then Jack said as he threw down the axe,--
"When I lift on this end you must try to pull him out, Aunt Nancy."
The first attempt was a failure, but at the second the little womansucceeded, and Bill was drawn from his uncomfortable position lookingdecidedly the worse for wear.
"Can you stand up?" Aunt Nancy asked solicitously as she brushed thedirt from Bill's hands, and little Louis patted his cheek to show hewished to take some part in the rescue, even though it only was todisplay sympathy.
"I'll try," Master Dean said meekly, and, with the aid of Aunt Nancy andJack, the sorrowful looking bully arose to his feet.
It was positive the bones of his legs were not broken, for he stooderect without difficulty, and, this having been ascertained, Aunt Nancyproceeded to make a careful examination of his arms and chest.
"I do not believe you are seriously injured, William," she said with asigh of relief. "There can be no doubt but that you will be very lamefor a few days; you must bear with it, and thank your Father it is noworse."
"My father didn't have anything to do with it. He'd given me Jesse if heknowed I was here cuttin' down the tree."
"I mean your Father in heaven, William, who watches over even thesparrow's fall."
Bill looked rather shamefaced at having made such a mistake, and said ashe turned half aw
ay from his rescuers,--
"I told Hunchie I wouldn't bother him any more if he'd help me out, an'I'm goin' to stick to my promise."
"It would have been much better if you had arrived at that conclusionbefore you were in need of assistance," Aunt Nancy replied gravely. "Oneshould do right because it is his duty, and not as a reward to others."
"What's the matter now?" Bill asked in surprise. "Do you want me to keepon roughin' it into him?"
"Certainly not, and I am glad you made the promise. What I meant wasthat it would have been better had you done so because you wished to."
"But I didn't till now."
"We won't speak of it further now. Go home and ask your mother to rubthe bruises with liniment. When you feel inclined I would like to haveyou come to see Jack and me."
"I ain't goin' 'round to be preached at," Bill replied in his olddefiant tone. "There was enough of that at camp meetin' to last a fellera month."
"I did not see you at the services."
"Once I had to go when mother caught me jest as the bell was ringin',an' its the last time I'll get in the same box."
Aunt Nancy shook her head sadly.
She was discouraged, but not so much as to give up the struggle, for itwas her intention to renew it again at a more "convenient season."
"We had best go back, Jack dear, and William will come to-morrow to tellus how he feels.
"I ain't so sure 'bout that, if you're goin' to stuff a feller with alot of sabbath-school talk," Bill said sulkily, as he picked up the axeand started across the fields without further thanks to his kindfriends.
"He doesn't seem like a very good boy at heart," Aunt Nancy said sadly,as she raised Louis in her arms; "but we must not judge by outwardappearances. I almost feel condemned for saying anything when my ownsin has not been atoned for. My mind would be much easier if I had seenMr. Pratt at the meeting."
"It won't take long to fix that," Jack replied, noting with sorrow thelook of pain which had come over the little woman's face. "It will dojest as well if I go there an' tell him what you wanted to say."
"But then you would be where they could easily carry you to the poorfarm."
"Well, s'posen they did, what would that 'mount to side of makin' youfeel good? Besides, don't you believe Mr. Souders could make them let meout?"
"Perhaps he might; I never thought of that."
"I'll leave here to-morrow mornin', an' by night be there."
"Bless your heart, child, I would never think of letting you walk thatlong distance. If we should make up our minds that it was best to go,and I wish I _could_ have the strength to say it, you'd ride in thecars."
"Why not decide now?"
"Because, Jack dear, it nearly breaks my heart to think there is apossibility of being obliged to give you up."
"Well, s'posen we go home an' talk the thing over some other time,"Jack said with an assumption of cheerfulness which was far from natural.
He had suddenly conceived a plan by which the little woman could berelieved without the pain of deciding that it should be so, and therewas no more than sufficient time to put it into execution.
Aunt Nancy walked back to the house in a meditative mood, Jack talkingabout the cow and kindred topics to prevent her mind from dwelling uponthe dreaded subject.
He at once set about doing the chores in an unusually careful mannerwhen they arrived home.
A large quantity of wood was brought into the kitchen, an extra amountof water drawn, and the cow given a generous lunch of clover after shehad been driven into the stable.
"Why do you do so much unnecessary work, Jack dear?" Aunt Nancy asked."There will be nothing left for morning, and it is bad to have 'idlehands.'"
"I may as well fix everything now, for you know what you said aboutputtin' off till to-morrow. Say, Aunt Nancy, would you lend me a leadpencil an' a piece of paper?"
"Of course, my child. Are you going to write a letter?"
"Yes, Aunt Nancy, an' you shall see it in the mornin'."
"Better sit down at the kitchen table. If writing is as much of a taskfor you as it is for me, you'll need every possible convenience."
"I had rather do it in my room, for you see I don't know very much aboutsuch things, an' it'll come mighty hard, but you won't care if it don'tlook very nice, will you?"
"Certainly not, my child. It could only annoy me because I have nottaken advantage of our leisure time to teach you the little I know."
"You are always blamin' yourself, Aunt Nancy, an' I don't like to hearit. I wouldn't let anybody else talk that way about you."
For reply the little woman patted the boy on the cheek, and thenproposed the nightly search for burglars be made.
After the evening devotions Aunt Nancy gave Jack the articles he hadasked for, and was considerably surprised by the warmth of the boy'sgood-night salute.
Once in his room, Jack set about what was for him a formidable task, andit was late before he completed the following:--
"DEAR AUNT NANCY I AM GOIN TO SEA THE FARMER & TELL HIM YOU R SORRY IF I DONT COME BACK U WILL NO WHERE I AM BUT DONT FEL BAD FOUR I LUV U. I CARNT STOP TO MILK
JACK DUDLEY URE JACK DEAR."
When this had been done Jack looked around the little room as if takingleave of all it contained, wiped a suspicious moisture from his eyes,and then dressed, but with his shoes in his hands, crept softly down thestairs.
The ticking of the clock sounded strangely loud and unnatural; thesilence, save for this clicking noise, was oppressive, and he felt as ifhe was about to commit some crime against the woman who had befriendedhim.
"It's got to be done, an' I mustn't stand here worryin' about it, or Imight back out," he said to himself.
It was necessary he should think of Aunt Nancy's self accusations andsorrow before he could nerve himself to raise the window.
He took this method of departing rather than by the door, for he fearedthe little woman would be alarmed on learning she had remained in thehouse a portion of the night without every place of egress beingsecurely fastened.
Once outside he gazed around several moments, taking in all the detailsof the place where he had spent so many pleasant days, and then, puttingon his shoes, he started up the lane with a heart so heavy it seemed apositive burden.
The moon shone faintly through the clouds; the night wind murmuredmournfully among the trees, and before him could dimly be seen the roadhe believed led him to the paupers' home by way of Mr. Pratt's house.