Ben Stone at Oakdale

As Ben seemed hesitating over the beginning of the story, Roger observed that, with an apparently unconscious movement, he once more lifted his hand to his mutilated ear. At that moment Eliot was struck with the conviction that the story he was about to hear was concerned with the injury to that ear.

“At the very start,” said Ben, an uncomfortable look on his plain face, “I have to confess that my father was always what is called a shiftless man. He was more of a dreamer than a doer, and, instead of trying to accomplish things, he spent far too much time in meditating on what he might accomplish. He dreamed a great deal of inventing something that would make his fortune, and this led him to declare frequently that some day he would make a lot of money. He was not a bad man, but he was careless and neglectful, a poor planner and a poor provider. The neighbors called him lazy and held him in considerable contempt.

“Although we were very poor, my father was determined that I should have an education, and I attended the public school in Hilton, where we lived. I know I’m not handsome, Eliot, and could never be much of a favorite; but the fact that we lived in such humble circumstances and that my father seemed so worthless caused the boys who dared do so to treat me with disdain. Naturally I have a violent temper, and when it gets the best of me I am always half crazy with rage. I always was pretty strong, and I made it hot for most of the boys who dared taunt me about my father or call me names. It seems to me now that I was almost always fighting in those times. I hated the other boys and despised them in a way as much as they despised me.

“My only boy friend and confidant was my little blind brother, Jerry, whose sight was almost totally destroyed by falling from a window when he was only four years old. Although I always wished for a boy chum near my own age, I never had one; and I think perhaps this made me all the more devoted to Jerry, who, I am sure, loved me as much as I did him.

“Jerry’s one great pleasure was in fiddling. Father had a violin, and without any instructions at all Jerry learned to play on it. It was wonderful how quickly he could pick up a tune. I used to tell him he would surely become a great violinist some day.

“Of course my temper and frequent resentment over the behavior of other boys toward me got me into lots of trouble at school. Once I was suspended, and a dozen times I was threatened with expulsion. But I kept right on, and after a while it got so that even the older and bigger boys didn’t care much about stirring me up. If they didn’t respect me, some of them were afraid of me.

“There was a certain old woman in the village who disliked me, and she was always saying I would kill somebody some day and be hanged for it. Don’t think I’m boasting of this, Eliot, for I’m not; I am heartily ashamed of it. I tell it so you may understand what led me into the affair with Bernard Hayden and made him and his father my bitter enemies.

“I suppose it was because I was strong and such a fighter that the boys gave me a chance on the school football team. Hayden opposed it, but I got on just the same. He always was a proud fellow, and I think he considered it a disgrace to play on the team with me. But I was determined to show the boys I could play, and I succeeded fairly well. This changed the bearing of some of them toward me, and I was beginning to get along pretty well at school when something happened that drove me, through no fault of my own, in shame and disgrace from the school and cast a terrible shadow on my life.”

Here Stone paused, shading his eyes with his square, strong hand, and seemed to shrink from the task of continuing. Roger opened his lips to speak a word of encouragement, but suddenly decided that silence was best and waited for the other lad to resume.

“For some time,” Ben finally went on, “my father had been working much in secret in a garret room of our house. Whenever anything was said to him about this he always declared he was working out an invention that would enable him to make lots of money. I remember that, for all of our great poverty, he was in the best of spirits those days and often declared we’d soon be rich.

“There was in the village one man, Nathan Driggs, with whom father had always been on intimate terms. Driggs kept a little shop where he did watch and clock repairing, and he was noted for his skill as an engraver. Driggs was also rather poor, and it was often remarked that a man of his ability should be better situated and more successful.

“One dark night, near one o’clock in the morning, I was aroused by hearing someone knocking at our door. My father went to the door, and, with my wonder and curiosity aroused, I listened at an upper window that was open. The man at the door talked with my father in low tones, and I fancied he was both excited and alarmed.

“I could not hear much that passed between them, but I believed I recognized the voice of Driggs, and I was sure I heard him say something about ‘friendship’ and ’hiding it somewhere.’ When the man had gone I heard father climb the stairs to the attic. I wondered over it a long time before I fell asleep again.

“The following day my father was arrested and the house was searched. Concealed in the attic they discovered a bundle, or package, and this contained dies for the making of counterfeit money. In vain father protested his innocence. Appearances were against him, and every one seemed to believe him guilty. On learning what the bundle contained, he immediately told how it came into his possession, stating it had been brought to him in the night by Nathan Driggs.

“Driggs was likewise arrested, but he contradicted my father’s statement and positively denied all knowledge of the bundle or its contents. Several members of an organized body of counterfeiters had been captured, but these men did not manufacture their dies, and the Secret Service agents had traced the latter to Fairfield.

“Both father and Driggs were held for trial in heavy bonds. Neither of them was able to find bondsmen, and so they went to jail. There were those in Hilton who fancied Driggs might be innocent, but everybody seemed to believe my father guilty. It was the talk of the town how he had shut himself in his garret day after day in a most suspicious manner and had often boasted that some day he would ’make a lot of money.’

“At the regular trial I was a witness. I told how Driggs had come to our house in the night, and I repeated the few words I had heard him say. The prosecutor did his best to confuse me, and when he failed he sarcastically complimented me on having learned my lesson well. You can’t understand how I felt when I saw no one believed me.

“Again Driggs denied everything, and he had covered his tracks so well that it was impossible to find him guilty; but my father was convicted and sentenced to a long term in prison. It was a heavy blow to my poor mother, and she never recovered from it.

“I now found myself an outcast in every sense of the word, despised and shunned by all the boys who knew me. Under such conditions I could not attend school, and I tried to do what I could to help my mother support the family; but no one seemed willing to give me work, and we had a pretty hard time of it.

“The worst was to come. Two months after being sent to prison my father attempted to escape and was shot and killed. Mother was prostrated, and I thought she would surely die then; but she finally rallied, although she carried a constant pain in her heart, as if the bullet that slew my father had lodged in her breast.”

Once more the narrator paused, swallowing down a lump that had risen into his throat. He was a strong lad and one not given to betraying emotion, but the remembrance of what his unfortunate mother had suffered choked him temporarily. When he again took up his story he spoke more hurriedly, as if anxious to finish and have it over.

“It isn’t necessary to tell all the unpleasant things that happened after that, but we had a hard time of it, Eliot, and you can understand why it was that I just almost hated nearly everybody. But most I came to hate Bern Hayden, who was a leader among the village boys, and who never lost a chance to taunt and deride me and call me the son of a jail-bird. I don’t know how I kept my hands off him as long as I did. I often thought I could kill him with a will.

“My little brother could get around amazingly well, even though he was blind, and he had a way of carrying father’s old fiddle with him into a grove not far from our house. One day I came home and found him crying himself sick over the fiddle, which had been smashed and ruined. He told me Bern Hayden had smashed the instrument.

“That night Hayden visited another boy, with whom he was very chummy. This other boy lived some distance outside the village, and I lay in wait for Hayden and stopped him as he was crossing lots on his way home. It was just getting dark, and the spot was lonely. It was light enough, just the same, for him to see my face, and I knew from his actions that he was frightened. I told him I was going to give him such a thumping that he’d remember it as long as he lived. He threatened me, but that didn’t stop me a bit, and I went for him.

“Hayden wasn’t such a slouch of a fighter, but he couldn’t hold his own with me, for I was bursting with rage. I got him down and was punishing him pretty bad when somehow he managed to get out his pocket knife and open it. He struck at me with the knife, and this is the result.”

Roger gave a cry as Ben again lifted a hand to his mutilated ear.

“He cut part of your ear off?” gasped Eliot.

Ben nodded. “Then I seemed to lose my reason entirely. I choked him until he was pretty nearly finished. As he lay limp and half dead on the ground, I stripped off his coat and vest and literally tore his shirt from his body. I placed him in a sitting posture on the ground, with his arms locked about the butt of a small tree, and tied his wrists together. With his own knife with which he had marked me for life, I cut a tough switch from a bush, and with that I gave it to him on his bare back until his screams brought two men, who seized and stopped me. I was so furious that I had not heard their approach. I was all covered with blood from my ear, and I sort of gave out all at once when the men grabbed me.

“I tell you, that affair kicked up some excitement in Hilton. My ear was cared for, but even while he dressed the wound the doctor told me that Lemuel Hayden would surely send me to the reform school. My mother fainted when she heard what had happened.

“I believe they would have sent me to the reform school right away had I not been taken violently ill the following day. Jerry told me that Bern Hayden was also in bed. I was just getting up when mother fell ill herself, and in three days she died. I think she died of a broken heart. Poor mother! Her whole life was one of hardships and disappointments.

“Uncle Asher, mother’s brother, arrived the day after mother died. He took charge of the funeral, but almost as soon as he stepped off the train in Hilton he heard what a bad boy I was, and he looked on me with disfavor.

“After the funeral Jerry came to me in the greatest excitement and told me he had heard Lemuel Hayden and Uncle Asher talking, and uncle had agreed that I should be sent to the Reformatory, as Mr. Hayden wished. Uncle said he would look out for Jerry, but I was to be carried off the next morning.

“That night I ran away. I whispered good-by to Jerry and stole out of the house, with only a little bundle of clothing and less than a dollar in money. I managed to get away all right, for I don’t believe any one tried very hard to catch me. I fancy the people of Hilton thought it a good riddance.

“For a long time I was afraid of being taken. I found work in several places, but kept changing and moving until Jacob Baldwin took me to work for him. Both Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin have been awfully good to me, and sometime, if I ever can, I’m going to pay them back for it. They encouraged me to save money to come here to school. I came and found the Haydens here, and now that’s all over.

“I’ve told you the whole yarn, Eliot; I haven’t tried to hide anything or excuse myself. I know I was to blame, but you might have done something yourself if you had been goaded and tormented and derided as I was. Then to have Hayden do such a mean thing as to smash my brother’s fiddle!

“You’re the first person I’ve ever told the whole story to, and I suppose, now that you know just the sort of fellow I am, you’ll agree with Hayden that I’m no fit associate for other boys at the academy.”

CHAPTER XI.

ON THE THRESHOLD

“On the contrary,” declared Roger earnestly, as he once more rose from his chair, “I hold quite a different opinion of you, Stone. You have had a tough time of it, and any fellow in your place with an ounce of real blood in his body might have done just what you did. Every chap is human, and if you had submitted to insults and injury without resentment you would have been a soft mark. Hayden marked you for life, and he might have killed you when he struck with that knife; in return you gave him just what he deserved. There is nothing in the world I despise more than a fighter who is a bully, and nothing I admire more than a fighter who fights for his rights. I don’t believe there is the least atom of a bully about you, Stone. Put me in your place and I might have gone farther than you did.”

“Thank you, Eliot – thank you!” exclaimed Ben huskily, as he also rose. “But I have learned by experience that any fellow can’t afford to try squaring up scores with an enemy by fighting or any sort of personal violence; I’ve found out he only injures himself the most, and I believe there must be other and better ways of getting even.”

“Perhaps that’s right, too,” nodded Roger; “but I am satisfied that it is your natural impulse to protect the weak and defend them from the strong and brutal. You do it without pausing to think of possible consequences to yourself. That’s why you defended Jimmy Jones from Hunk Rollins, who, by the way, is a duffer for whom I have no particular use. That is why you faced the fangs of old Fletcher’s fierce dogs to save my sister. Stone, I think you’re all right, and I’m ready to tell anybody so.”

Again Ben expressed his thanks in a voice deep with emotion.

“Now,” Roger went on, “I think we understand each other better, and I am satisfied that a chap of your grit and determination will be a valuable addition to the Oakdale Eleven, for there are some fellows on the team who lack sand and can be well spared. Don’t talk to me about leaving school!” he exclaimed, lifting a hand and smiling in that manner which made him so attractive. “That’s all nonsense! You’re not going to leave school.”

“But – but I can’t stay,” faltered Stone. “I don’t want to leave, but – ”

“You shan’t; I’ll see to that. Prof. Richardson shall know just why you sailed into Hunk Rollins, I promise you. When he understands that you were simply protecting a helpless cripple from a bully who was tormenting him he’ll be pretty sure to do you justice. He’ll find out how you defended my sister, too. I tell you it’s all right, old fellow, and you’ll stay right here at school as long as you care to do so.”

A flush came to Ben’s freckled cheeks and his eyes gleamed with growing eagerness.

“That’s fine of you, Eliot!” he exclaimed.

“Fine – nothing! Do you think that will be anything compared with what you did for me? I should say not! If I didn’t do that much I’d be a poor flub.”

“Hayden – he will – ”

“Don’t you worry about Hayden. This is not Hilton, and it’s not likely Lemuel Hayden could succeed in making much out of that old affair if he tried. Besides, I fancy my father has about as much influence in Oakdale as Lemuel Hayden has. He has been here a great deal longer, and the mill business of the place is decidedly more important than the lime industry. I’ll guarantee that father will stand by you like a brick, so, you see, you have some friends of consequence.”

It was difficult for Ben to comprehend at once that the thing which had menaced him and threatened to drive him like a criminal from Oakdale was no longer to be feared. From the depths of despair he was thus lifted to the heights of hope, but the sudden change seemed to bewilder him.

Roger’s arm fell across his shoulders and Roger went on talking to him quietly and convincingly, making it plain that his proper course was to return to school the following day exactly as if nothing had happened.

“Leave it to me; leave it to me,” Roger persisted. “I’ll guarantee to settle the whole matter for you. Say you’ll let me take care of this affair, old chap.”

“You – I – I – ”

“Then it’s settled, is it?” cried the determined boy. “You’ll be there to-morrow? That’s first rate! Give me your hand on it.”

Ben found Roger shaking his hand, and he returned the warm, friendly grip, a mist in his eyes.

“I can’t hardly believe I’m lucky enough to have such a friend,” half whispered the boy whose starved heart had yearned all his life for friendship and comradery. “It’s too good to be true.”

“Perhaps I’m a bit selfish about it, too,” said Eliot. “I have my eye on you for the eleven, as we’re bound to do up Wyndham this year. You ought to be a stiff man in the line. I want you to come out for practice to-morrow night. We’ll have our coach next week, and then we’ll have to settle right down to business and get into trim. He’ll make us toe the scratch.”

Later, on the way back to his bare room at Mrs. Jones’, Ben wondered if he had not been dreaming. It did not seem possible that such good fortune could come to him at last, just when, to all appearances, his hard luck had culminated in blighting disaster.

As he thought of his visit to Roger Eliot’s home, of his reception by Roger’s family, of that dinner in the handsome dining room, and of Roger’s earnest pledge on hearing his story to stand by him and be his friend, a strange and wonderful feeling of lightness and exuberant happiness possessed him and made him long to shout and sing. An inward voice seemed whispering that he had left behind him all the dark shadows, and now stood on the threshold of a brighter and better life.

Still it was not wholly without a feeling of dread and misgiving that he approached the academy the following morning, and the fear that somehow things might not go right after all left his face pale, although his heart beat tumultuously, as he came up the gravel walk.

As usual at such an hour on warm and pleasant days while school was holding there was a group of boys near the academy steps. Chipper Cooper had just finished telling for the thirteenth time that morning how Stone had defended Amy Eliot and “knocked the stuffing out of Fletcher’s dogs,” his every statement having been confirmed by Chub Tuttle, who was making a sort of after-breakfast lunch on peanuts.

Every boy in the gathering turned to look at Ben as he drew near, and had he observed he must have seen there was nothing of unfriendliness in their faces. When he would have passed them to enter the academy Chipper called to him.

“Hey, Stone!” he cried; “hold on a minute, will you? Where did you hit Old Tige’s big dog when you knocked him stiff? We fellows have been wondering how you did it.”

“I hit him on the back of his neck,” answered Ben, pausing a bit.

“Well, that was a dandy trick!” declared Cooper. “You ought to have a reward of merit for that.”

Chub Tuttle approached Ben and held out a handful of peanuts.

“Have some,” he urged, his round face beaming. “Fresh roasted. Got ’em at Stickney’s store.”

“Thank you,” said Ben, feeling his face flush as he accepted two or three of them.

At that moment Roger Eliot came from within the building, saw Ben and seized him immediately, saying:

“Just the fellow I’m looking for! Prof. Richardson wants to see you before school begins. Come in.”

Then, with his arm about Ben, he drew him into the academy.

“By Jinks!” exclaimed Sile Crane; “I guess that pretty nigh settles things. When Roger Eliot takes up with a feller like that, Bern Hayden nor nobody else ain’t goin’ to down him much.”

“’Sh!” hissed Sleuth Piper, assuming an air of caution and mystery. “I have been piping things off this morning, and I’ll stake my reputation on it that Eliot has been fixing it for Stone. He has revealed to the professor the whole tragic tale of that encounter with Fletcher’s dogs, and, besides that, the professor has been questioning some of the fellows who were on the scene of action when the go between Stone and Rollins took place. My deduction is that Stone will come out of this affair with flying colors.”

“You’re almost too knowing to live, Sleuth,” said Cooper sarcastically. “As for me, I rather hope Stone does come out all right, for if he stays in the school he may play football, and I reckon a stocky chap like him will just about fill an aching void in the right wing of the line.”

“An aching void!” sneered Piper, who had not relished Cooper’s words or manner. “Will you be good enough, Mr. Smarty, to tell us how a void can ache?”

“Why, sure,” grinned Chipper promptly. “You have a headache sometimes, don’t you?”

“Smarty! smarty!” cried Sleuth, as he fled into the academy to escape from the laughter of the boys.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SKIES BRIGHTEN

Having opened school that morning in the usual manner, Prof. Richardson rose beside his desk, on which he tapped lightly with his knuckles, and surveyed the scholars over his spectacles, which seemed to cling precariously to the tip of his thin, aquiline nose. There was a slight bustle of expectancy all over the room, and then the scholars settled themselves down almost breathlessly to hear what the principal would say.

Having cleared his throat, Prof. Richardson began speaking slowly and distinctly, as if weighing every word. He did not look at first in the direction of Stone, who sat there flushed and chilled by turns, keeping his eyes on an open book which lay before him. There was sternness as he expressed his sentiments regarding the person with a bullying inclination who took pleasure in abusing those physically weaker than himself; and, although Sam Rollins’ name was not mentioned, every one knew at whom those open remarks were directed.

Hunk knew, and in an effort to appear unconcerned and a trifle defiant he was openly brazen. Soon, however, his eyes drooped before the accusing gaze of the old professor.

The principal continued by commending with some warmth the individual whose impulses led him, regardless of personal danger or the chance of being misunderstood, to stand up in defense of one who was being mistreated and abused. He went on to say that such a thing had occurred upon the previous afternoon, and that through undue haste on his own part, which he now regretted, he had been led to misunderstand the situation and condemn the wrong person. He even displayed his own moral courage by offering an apology.

Ben Stone’s cheeks were burning now, and his heart pounded so heavily that he fancied every one near him must hear it. He did not move as his grinning little seatmate reached over slyly to pinch him, whispering:

“That’s for you, old feller.”

Prof. Richardson was still speaking, and now he was telling of the remarkable heroism of a lad who had rushed to the defense of a little girl beset by two huge and vicious dogs. The principal’s words were simple and straightforward; he made no effort at eloquence, and yet his language was singularly graphic and effective. He made them shiver at the picture he drew of little Amy Eliot besieged by Tige Fletcher’s ugly pets. He caused them to see in imagination the dauntless defender of the child rushing to the spot and beating the brutes off.

“It was a very fine thing to do,” said the professor, who was at last looking straight at the lad whose eyes remained fixed upon that open book. “It was something not a few men might have hesitated about doing, or, at least, might have done in fear and trepidation. It is really marvelous that the heroic lad escaped untouched by the fangs of those snarling beasts. By this deed he established beyond question the fact that he is a boy of fine courage, possessing the instincts which lead him unhesitatingly to face gravest peril in defense of those who are unable to defend themselves. I have certainly learned a great deal concerning this lad, who apparently has been much misunderstood in the past, and I am proud of the fact that he is a student in this school. I am speaking of Benjamin Stone.”