Witch Winnie's Mystery, or The Old Oak Cabinet Part 22

"That supposition might be entertained provided it had been only a boyish caper; but the two robberies can hardly be attributed to these young gentlemen."

I groaned. So our poor Polo was beginning to be "shadowed." She had told us with such delight, a few days before this, that she had found her brother. He had been away from New York for two years, but had left no stone unturned on his return in his search for them. He had a kind friend who had secured him a fine position, and she was so happy. The good news had nearly cured her mother.

I was drawn from my reverie by Adelaide's announcement that the time had come for the one mile safety bicycle race for boys under fifteen, in which Jim was to take part. This was the great event of the day for us.

There were two entries from the Cadet School--Jim and Ricos.

"Ricos is certainly over fifteen," I said to Adelaide.

"He is no taller than Jim," Adelaide replied doubtfully.

"He is a little fellow," I admitted, "but those Cubans are all stunted, weazened little monkeys."

Adelaide smiled faintly, but watched the preparations for the race with straining eyes. So did all the cadets. There were many entries from the other schools, but they were confident in the prowess of their own champions. The only question was which would be successful.

"Come boys," shouted b.u.t.tertub, "let's give them a rousing send-off.

Whoop her up for Ricos! One, two, three,--'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah! _Ricos!_"

A red-haired boy, whom I at once recognized as the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, shouted from the field, "Cheer Armstrong, too!" but b.u.t.tertub either did not hear him, or wilfully disregarded his request.

Stacey's rose-coloured bath-gown was conspicuous, fluttering here and there; he got a bottle of alcohol from the trainer and was presently seen kneeling on the track, vigorously rubbing down Jim's legs. He mounted him carefully, and scrutinized every part of his little safety bicycle, with the most zealous care. The starter gave Jim the inside of the track, which was an advantage loudly contested by Ricos.

"No use kicking," Stacey remarked. "You've had one medal for cycling, and Jim is the youngest chap entered. I should like to know now just when you pa.s.sed your fourteenth birthday."

Ricos was silent and sullenly took his place. Jim turned and waved his hand to his sister. Stacey was holding his bicycle, ready to push it off at the signal. How jaunty and gay he looked in his dark blue jersey, with the silver C on his breast, and with the wind blowing his blonde hair from his eager face.

"He's a jolly little chap," Mr. Van Silver remarked admiringly; and Milly murmured, "I think he's perfectly sweet."

Adelaide said nothing, but the tears came to her eyes. I think that just for that moment she was perfectly happy. Her mood was contagious. The glamour of spring was in the hazy atmosphere. The plum trees were blossoming white out beyond the track, and the blue of bursting buds and the tender green of the earliest leaf.a.ge spread itself in a s.h.i.+mmering haze over all the sweet spring landscape. It was a good world, after all.

At the report of the starter's pistol, all of the boys were off in line, but they had hardly made half a lap when two, Jim and Ricos, shot from the rank and sped on in advance of the others.

"'Rah! 'Rah! for the cadets!" shouted b.u.t.tertub.

"'Rah! for Armstrong!" yelled the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

"He's second!" shouted b.u.t.tertub.

"He's first!" shrieked the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, "and gaining every instant. 'Rah!

'Rah! 'Rah!"

"He can't keep it! Ricos won't let himself be beaten as easily as that,"

replied b.u.t.tertub. "See him bend to it. There, he's up with him! They're even! He's trying to get the inside! 'Rah! 'Rah!"

"Look out! there'll be a smash-up!" cried the trainer. "Keep to the right, you lummox."

"Hi!" cried Mr. Van Silver, springing to his feet, "that's a bad tumble."

"Ricos fouled him on purpose," cried the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r.

A groan ran round the stand. "They are both down--no, only one."

"Which one?" cried Adelaide.

"I don't know," I replied, but I held her down firmly on my shoulder, for I saw a rose-coloured bath-robe skimming across the field like a pink comet, and I knew that Stacey would not have manifested such concern if an accident had happened to Ricos.

"Armstrong's up!" yelled the trainer in the jockey cap. "He's mounting again!"

"He is!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr. Van Silver. "By George! Jim's the pluckiest little fellow I ever saw in my life!"

For an instant the spectators went crazy with cheers, then they quieted down and watched.

Ricos swept by, he had gained the first lap easily; but only a faint cheer greeted him. It was thought by many that the collision was intended, and all eyes were fixed on the little figure in the blue jersey, now the very last in the race, but who, having been a.s.sisted to his seat by the rose-coloured bath-robe, was now wheeling manfully along in the rear. Adelaide opened her eyes and waved her handkerchief as he pa.s.sed the stand.

"Go it, Jim; go it! You've got the sand," yelled the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r; while Stacey, the bath-robe cast aside, came forging up, running at Jim's side; in his friendly anxiety to see that all was right, unconsciously breaking his own previous record as a sprinter. If he had been timed just then even his most enthusiastic friends would have been astonished.

But, convinced that Jim was gaining, he contented himself with cutting across the Oval to note his place at the end of the second lap. Ricos had held his own, and pa.s.sed the stand well ahead of all the other compet.i.tors; but Jim was making up and had distanced two of the laggards, his legs propelling like the driving-bars of an engine.

"He's gaining!" cried Mr. Van Silver. "I should not wonder if he caught up with the other fellow; for, see, he has two more rounds to make."

When he pa.s.sed the stand for the third time and the starter rang the bell which announced that this was the last lap, Jim had pa.s.sed all the others and was following Ricos at a distance of only a few rods. He looked up toward us with a pitiful smile on his wan face. "Cheer, boys, cheer!" cried the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, "you don't applaud half enough. Whoop 'em up, Tub! Hurry up, Jim! Hurry up! Go it for all you're worth!"

"Take it easy--easy!" roared Stacey, who saw that the boy was straining every nerve. "Take your time, Jim. You've got him, now.

Take--your--time!"

The spectators were nearly all silent. The boys belonging to other schools, seeing that there was no hope for their own champions, had ceased to applaud and were now deeply interested in the two cadets.

Rosario Ricos had fainted, and Miss Noakes was calling shrilly for water, but even Mr. Mudge was so much absorbed in the contest that he paid no attention to her appeal. People near me held their breath in suspense. It reminded me of Gerome's picture of the chariot race, and the fall had been not unlike the one described in "Ben Hur."

"Why is it," whispered Adelaide, "that Jim has tied a crimson ribbon just below his knee? Red is not a cadet colour; see it flutter against his leg."

I saw the crimson streak to which she referred; but a swift intimation flashed upon me that this was no ribbon, but a little rill of blood flowing from a gash cut by Ricos's wheel. I contrasted Jim's face, deadly pale, with that of Ricos's, flushed to a dark purple, and wondered whether his strength would hold out to the end. I need have had no fear, Jim was clear grit through and through. As he neared the goal he set his teeth and bent nearly flat, throwing no glance this time in our direction, but with graze fixed straight before him, he worked the pedals with wonderful velocity and swooped forward, like a little hawk, far beyond Ricos, and past the finish, on, on, as though the momentum of that final spurt would never be exhausted. The thunder of applause which burst forth at this exploit was something which I had never heard equalled. The spectators all stood upon the benches, the ladies waving their handkerchiefs, hats, and scarfs, crying and laughing hysterically.

The men yelled and shouted themselves hoa.r.s.e. Every kazoo, tin horn, rattle, and other instrument of torture sounded forth its discordant triumph. The boys stamped and hooted. The cadets, to a man, acted like raving maniacs. Even b.u.t.tertub, who had no love for Jim, led his gang with "Bully for Armstrong!" "Hi--yi--whoop, three times three and a tiger!" "Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! What's the matter with Armstrong? He's all right!"

"'Rah, 'Rah, 'Rah--ta-tara-da Boomerum a boom-er-um.

Boom, boom, bang!"

But Jim was not all right. He heard the great roar of applause, but it sounded far, far away to his numbing senses. Then all the light went out of the sweet spring landscape, and he toppled over, bicycle and all, into Stacey's friendly arms. No one was surprised to see him stretched upon the gra.s.s wrapped in the rose-coloured bath-gown, for it was a common thing for victors to faint just as they secured their laurels.

"He'll be up in a minute; Stacey is rubbing his feet," Mr. Van Silver a.s.serted rea.s.suringly. "Good-hearted fellow, that Stacey. He's devoted to your brother." But Adelaide watched him anxiously, until a crowd of boys closed around him and hid him from her view. How terribly long he lay there--could anything serious be the matter? Suddenly Polo's brother came running toward us. "Is there any doctor on the grand stand!" he shouted; "if so, he's wanted _immejiently_."

Adelaide sprang to her feet and clambered down the ranks of seats. I followed. I have no clear idea of how we reached the ground, but we hurried on together, the boys making way for us as we came. They had an instinctive feeling that this handsome, imperious girl, with the white face, had a right to pa.s.s. A panting boy, lying with his face to the ground, looked up and asked, "What's up?"

"They can't bring Armstrong to," replied the trainer. "Looks like he is going to die."

"Glad of it," retorted the other, turning his face to the sod again.

It was Ricos, deserted by every one, unnoticed in his defeat. But through his humiliation and resentment there presently shot a pang of conscience. "What if Jim should die? Would I not be a murderer?" and with pallid face he staggered to his feet and tottered after us. The crowd around Jim opened for us. There he lay with his head on Stacey's lap. A portly surgeon, with a river of watch-chain flowing around his vest, knelt at Jim's side examining the wound below his knee. Colonel Grey, the princ.i.p.al of the school, a retired army officer, and a tall soldierly man, bent his white head over the doctor and inquired into Jim's condition.

"The wound is not a serious one, only a minor artery cut, which I have just tied. The only question is whether the little fellow has lost too much blood."

"Oh, my darling brother!" Adelaide cried.

"For Heaven's sake, control yourself, my dear Miss Armstrong!" exclaimed Colonel Grey. He realized the importance of not exciting Jim, and he loved the boy tenderly. He offered his arm to Adelaide now, while four of the cadets lifted Jim and bore him very gently to the piazza of the pavilion. "To think," said the Colonel, "that I was just congratulating myself on the number of points he was winning for the school. Why, I would rather the school had not gained a single point than have had this happen."