The Chums of Scranton High on the Cinder Path Part 9

Finally they reached the top. Hugh still ordered "Just" Smith to hold the pole as he had been doing. Then he managed to push Claude up so that he could crawl over the edge, which the other did in a speedy manner, bordering on the ludicrous.

Then, to the surprise, as well as delight of Hugh, what did Claude do but turn and stretch out a helping hand, as though his first thought was to a.s.sist his rescuer to top the rise; indeed, Hugh's one arm was so utterly gone that he could hardly count on it for a single thing.

Hugh would not be apt to forget this action on the part of the "sissy"; it proved what he had all along more than half suspected, that Claude really did have the making of a genuine boy in him, given half a chance for it to show itself, and the seed to germinate. And Hugh determined that he would make it his particular business to see that there came a change in Claude's dreary life. His mother could hardly refuse anything asked by the one to whom she owed the life of her son.

Soon the trio lay upon the ground, breathing hard, and trying to talk at the same time. Both Hugh and "Just" Smith were consumed with curiosity to know how Claude happened to get into such a strange predicament, and he hastened to explain.

After all, there was nothing so very singular about it. His mother had stopped in to see an old nurse, who had been in the family many years but was at the time lying sick at her sister's place.

Something influenced Claude to get out of the big car to take a little stroll. Perhaps the sight of all those happy lads running and jumping and throwing weights had made him feel more than ever his own narrow, confined life, kept out of the society of all the other boys after school hours, and made to play the part of a "mollycoddle," as Roosevelt called all such fellows who have never learned how to take care of themselves when a bully threatens.

Unused to the woods and hills, of course the first thing Claude did was to lose all sense of direction. He became alarmed, and that made matters worse than ever. So he had roamed about for almost a full hour, dreadfully tiring his poor feet and limbs, since he had never before in all his life walked so far and done such vigorous climbing.

Then he had come to that precipice, and, thinking he might glimpse the cottage where the old nurse lived, somewhere down in the valley, he had incautiously crept too close to the brink, when his weight caused a portion of the soil to give way. Finding himself falling, Claude had clutched desperately around him, and, as it happened, his fingers gripped a friendly bush, to which he continued to cling even as he struggled to better his condition and shouted as best he was able.

Hugh finished the story, to the edification of "Just" Smith, who admitted that if it had not been for the courage and muscular ability of Hugh the other boy must long ago have fallen to the bottom of the awful precipice. And Claude, s.h.i.+vering as he afterwards looked up at the forty feet and more of rocky wall, vowed he would never rest satisfied until he too had learned how to develop his muscles so that if ever again caught in a similar sc.r.a.pe he might have a fighting chance for his life.

The two boys eventually found the cottage, although Mrs. Jardine and the car had gone down the road hoping to overtake Claude, though they were expected back again later; so, leaving Claude there, Hugh and "Just" Smith continued their seven-mile run.

CHAPTER XII

STARTLING NEWS FROM THE JUGGINS BOY

"Burr-r-r-r!"

That was the telephone bell ringing.

"Hugh, will you answer it, since the chances are the call is from some one of your numerous boy chums?" the voice of Mrs. Morgan came from the dining-room, where she was looking after the silver and china, after was.h.i.+ng up the supper dishes, for they temporarily chanced to be without a hired-girl.

Hugh guessed as much himself. He had already been called to the phone several times since arriving home after his seven-mile spin.

Once it had been Claude's mother, begging him to be sure and call at her house early in the morning, because she wanted to have a good, long, earnest talk with him about Claude's future; and also to let him know how brimful of grat.i.tude a mother's heart could be toward the brave boy who, at the risk of his own life, had saved her only child for her.

Hugh had promised he would see her, although he expected to be very busy on the morning of the athletic tournament and then expressed the hope that Claude and herself would honor the tournament with their presence. This she hastily a.s.sured him she meant to do, because it was now borne in on her heart that she had been making a terrible mistake in reference to the way she was bringing up her darling Claude.

Needless to say, Hugh had chuckled joyously after that little talk.

He guessed he would have little trouble now in removing the scales Mrs. Jardine had allowed to cover her eyes with regard to the benefits to be derived by any boy, no matter how weak he might be, through a judicious system of athletic exercises, the same to be lengthened as he gradually grew more capable of standing fatigue.

"h.e.l.lo!" Hugh called.

A voice he immediately recognized as that of Horatio Juggins greeted him. "That you, Hugh?"

"Just who it is; what's the matter, Horatio? Feeling the effects of your little jog this afternoon? I hope not, for your sake, to-morrow."

"Oh! come off, Hugh," the other quickly replied. "I'd be a fine candidate for a fifteen-mile Marathon race, wouldn't I, if seven miles knocked me out? I'm as fit right now as a fiddle. But Hugh, can you come right over here now? Something dreadful has happened."

Hugh had a chilly feeling pa.s.s over him. It seemed as though some sort of bad news was coming. Had the great meet been called off, for some unknown reason or other? Somehow that struck him first as a dire possibility, since it would grievously disappoint thousands of eager boys and girls, not to mention many older folks with young hearts.

Now Hugh had intended to take that evening quietly, resting after his strenuous afternoon, and absolutely refuse to allow Thad, or any other fellow, to coax him outside the door. But already this resolve began to weaken. That dim mention of some possible tragedy happening started him going.

"Of course I can come over, Horatio," he told the boy at the other end of the wire; "and I'll do so right away on condition that it's no joke. Tell me what's up first."

"Oh! I meant to do that, Hugh," his friend hastened to say, and Hugh could detect a tremor to the boyish voice that told of excitement.

"You see, it's K. K."

"What's happened to him?" demanded Hugh, his mind instantly suggesting all manner of terrible possibilities, from a sudden attack of sickness to an accident whereby his life might be in danger; for with boys these things sometimes happen as unexpectedly as a flash of lightning from a clear sky.

"Why, he never came back again from that run this afternoon, Hugh!"

Horatio was saying, in an awed tone now.

"What's that you're telling me?" exclaimed the astonished Hugh. "I thought I saw K. K. with some of the other fellows when I was starting home just before dusk came on, though, of course, I may have been mistaken about it."

"You were, Hugh, you certainly were," Horatio a.s.sured him in a softened tone. "His own mother ought to know, hadn't she? Well, she's over here at our house right now, crying her eyes out, and imagining all sorts of terrible things. You remember the Kinkaids live close by us; and she knew her boy was going to take the run this afternoon along with me, so she thought I could tell her if anything had happened to detain him. Why, she says K. K. never missed his supper before in all his life. It'd have to be something _fierce_ to keep him away from his best meal of the whole day."

Hugh was thinking swiftly. He realized that this was no little matter to be dismissed as unimportant. Something certainly must have happened to detain K. K. for all this time. Several hours had elapsed since the other fellows reached the terminus of the long run at the athletic grounds. Why then had not K. K. shown up?

"Keep the rest till I get there, Horatio!" he told the other.

"Then you're sure coming, are you, Hugh?"

"Right away," Hugh added.

"Well, I'm glad, because you'll know what to do about it. And there's something else!"

"Yes?"

"I've got something to tell you that, say, I didn't have the heart to explain to K. K.'s mother, because she's bad enough frightened as it is; but it's looking particularly ugly to me, now that he hasn't come back. Oh! perhaps there is more'n a grain of truth in all those terrible stories those hayseeds tell about that place!"

Hugh put up the receiver with a bang, made a dash for his cap, slipped on his sweater, for he knew the night air was cold, and then shot out of doors. Somehow those last few words of Horatio, breathing of mystery as they did, had excited his curiosity until it now reached fever-pitch.

As he knew of several short-cuts across lots it took him but a few minutes to arrive at the Juggins home. Horatio was waiting at the door, and must have heard him running up the steps, for he instantly opened it to admit him.

"Gee, but I'm glad you've come, Hugh!" was his greeting. "She's in there with mother, and taking on awful about it. It's a dreadful thing to see a woman cry, Hugh. And I'm afraid there may be a good reason for expecting the worst."

"Tell me what you've got up your sleeve, Horatio," snapped Hugh, "and quit giving all these dark hints. You know something connected with K. K. that perhaps no one else does."

"Guess I do, Hugh; for he confided in me, and told me not to say anything to the rest. Oh, how foolish it was for K. K. to think he could do that big job two days in succession; but he said he was feeling equal to nearly anything; and just had to make the try, since the notion had gripped him. But come on over to my den, Hugh, and I'll tell you all about it. Then you must decide what's best to be done; and say, I hope you can soothe Mrs. Kinkaid a bit in the bargain."

Ten seconds later and the two boys found themselves ensconced in the room Horatio called his "den," although it was also his sleeping apartment. But he had fixed it as near like a boy's ideal of a lounging-place could be, the walls carrying the customary college pennants and a great variety of other things besides that gave them a rather crowded appearance. Evidently Horatio believed it added to the charm, for he never entered that "sanctum" without an involuntary smile of appreciation.

Horatio closed the door softly after him. Hugh had also noticed how he did this just as carefully when admitting him to the front hall; and as though he expected that this must have aroused a certain amount of curiosity, Horatio hastened to explain.

"You see, the poor woman is so excited, and in such a nervous condition, that she jumps up at the sound of a door closing, and starts to rush out into the hall, believing that Justin has got back home and hurried over to acquaint her with the joyous fact. Each time her disappointment leaves her worse than before. She will be needing Doctor Cadmus if this keeps on, as sure as anything."

"Well, what is it you want to tell me, Horatio?" demanded Hugh, not even taking the trouble to drop down into the chair the owner of the "den" shoved toward him; for it seemed as though he must soon be on the jump--there was evidently something hanging over their heads, which would be needing prompt attention.

"Why, it's just this, Hugh," began the other. "K. K. took a foolish notion he'd like to say he'd gone over the full course just for practice. And, Hugh. he told me he meant to make use of the short-cut that crosses the old haunted quarry!"

Hugh started, and looked serious.