The Circus Boys on the Flying Rings Part 4

Twilight came; then the shadows of night slowly settled over the landscape, while the lad lay stretched out on the sweet-smelling hay, hands supporting his head, gazing up into the starlit sky.

Slowly his heavy eyelids fluttered and closed, and Phil was asleep. The night was warm and he experienced no discomfort. He was a strong, healthy boy, so that sleeping out of doors was no hards.h.i.+p to him. All through the night he slept as soundly as if he had been in his own bed at home. Nor did he awaken until the bright sunlight of the morning finally burned his eyelids apart.

Phil started up rubbing his eyes.

At first he wondered where he was. But the sight of his bag lying a little to one side brought back with a rush the memory of what had happened to him the evening before.

"Why, it's morning," marveled the lad, blinking in the strong sunlight. "And I've slept on this pile of hay all night. It's the first time I ever slept out of doors, and I never slept better in my life. Guess I'll fix myself up a little."

Phil remembered that a little trout stream cut across the field off to the right. Taking up his bag, he started for the stream, where he made his toilet as best he could, finis.h.i.+ng up by lying flat on his stomach, taking a long, satisfying drink of the sparkling water.

"Ah, that feels better," he breathed, rolling over on the bank.

After a little he helped himself to another drink. "But I've got to do something. I can't stay out here in this field all the rest of my life. And if I don't find something to eat I'll starve to death. I'll go downtown and see if I can't earn my breakfast somehow."

Having formed this resolution, Phil took up his belongings and started away toward the village. His course led him right past Abner Adams' house, but, fortunately, Mr. Adams was not in sight.

Phil would have felt a keen humiliation had he been forced to meet the taunts of his uncle. He hurried on past the house without glancing toward it.

He had gone on for some little way when he was halted by a familiar voice.

"h.e.l.lo, Phil! Where are you going in such a hurry and so early in the morning?"

Phil started guiltily and looked up quickly at the speaker.

"Good morning, Mrs. Cahill. What time is it?"

"It's just past four o'clock in the morning."

"Gracious! I had no idea it was so early as that," exclaimed the lad.

"If you are not in such a great hurry, stop a bit," urged the woman, her keen eyes noting certain things that she did not give voice to. She had known Phil Forrest for many years, and his parents before him. Furthermore, she knew something of the life he had led since the death of his parents. "Had your breakfast?"

"Well--"

"Of course you haven't. Come right in and eat with me," urged the good-hearted widow.

"If you will let me do some ch.o.r.es, or something to pay for it, I will," agreed Phil hesitatingly.

"Nothing of the kind! You'll keep me company at breakfast; then you'll be telling me all about it."

"About what?"

" 'Bout your going away," pointing significantly to the bag that Phil was carrying.

He was ravenously hungry, though he did not realize it fully until the odor of the widow's savory cooking smote his nostrils.

She watched him eat with keen satisfaction.

"Now tell me what's happened," urged Mrs. Cahill, after he had finished the meal.

Phil did so. He opened his heart to the woman who had known his mother, while she listened in sympathetic silence, now and then uttering an exclamation of angry disapproval when his uncle's words were repeated to her.

"And you're turned out of house and home? Is that it, my boy?"

"Well, yes, that's about it," grinned Phil.

"It's a shame."

"I'm not complaining, you know, Mrs. Cahill. Perhaps it's the best thing that could have happened to me. I've got to start out for myself sometime, you know. I'm glad of one thing, and that is that I didn't have to go until school closed. I get through the term today, you know?"

"And you're going to school today?"

"Oh, yes. I wouldn't want to miss the last day."

"Then what?"

"I don't know. I shall find something else to do, I guess. I want to earn enough money this summer so that I can go to school again in the fall."

"And you shall. You shall stay right here with the Widow Cahill until you've got through with your schooling, my lad."

"I couldn't think of that. No; I am not going to be a burden to anyone. Don't you see how I feel--that I want to earn my own living now?"

She nodded understandingly.

"You can do some ch.o.r.es and--"

"I'll stay here until I find something else to do," agreed Phil slowly. "I shan't be able to look about much today, because I'll be too busy at school; but tomorrow I'll begin hunting for a job.

What can I do for you this morning?"

"Well, you might chop some wood if you are aching to exercise your muscles," answered the widow, with a twinkle in her eyes.

She knew that there was plenty of wood stored in the woodhouse, but she was too shrewd an observer to tell Phil so, realizing, as she did, that the obligation he felt for her kindness was too great to be lightly treated.

Phil got at his task at once, and in a few moments she heard him whistling an accompaniment to the steady thud, thud of the axe as he swung it with strong, resolute arms.

"He's a fine boy," was the Widow Cahill's muttered conclusion.

Phil continued at his work without intermission until an hour had pa.s.sed. Mrs. Cahill went out, begging that he come in and rest.

"Rest? Why, haven't I been resting all night? I feel as if I could chop down the house and work it up into kindling wood, all before school time. What time is it?"

"Nigh on to seven o'clock. I've wanted to ask you something ever since you told me you had left Abner Adams. It's rather a personal question."

The lad nodded.

"Did your uncle send you away without any money?"

"Of course. Why should he have given me anything so long as I was going to leave him?"

"Did you ever hear him say that your mother had left a little money with him before she died--money that was to be used for your education as long as it lasted?"