CHAPTER II
A FRIEND AND A FOE
Splashing about in his watery quarters Glen speedily discovered that hehad fallen into an enormous rain barrel. He was able to reach the topwith his hands, and lost no time in drawing himself up and crawling overthe side. Then he stood in the shelter of the barrel and wrung a gallonor so of water out of the doctor's clothes. When the job was finished hehad pretty well destroyed the identity of that suit of clothing. Thedraggled, wrinkled and stained garments bore no resemblance to the neatoffice suit. His mishap had given material help in effecting a disguise.
He struck out away from the town and met no one to interfere with him ashe walked along the quiet residence streets. Just at the edge of thecity he was attracted by a great illumination. It was the electriclighting of a park, which even at that hour was thronged with visitors.The boy who had been shut up for a year and more looked hungrily throughthe great entrance way. It was free to all. He walked cautiously in,keeping a suspicious eye wide for policemen; for though he thought hewas free he was in bondage to his guilty conscience.
Of the many attractions the one which made the greatest appeal toGlen--and the only one he could afford, for his sole fortune was thenickel he had for car-fare--was the merry-go-round with its gaudy horsesand its gurdy tunes. He bought a ticket and mounted one of the turbulentsteeds with a little thrill of anticipatory pleasure. The music began,the movement gradually quickened, and he was just giving himself up tothe pleasure of it when he saw working toward him, on the insiderunning-board, a man collecting tickets. On his coat was the nickeledbadge of a constable. Glen did not know that he was a special officerfor the sole purpose of protecting his own outfit against rowdies. Inhis eyes it was the approach of the law. Although they were now swinginground at a good rate he slipped from his horse and jumped, at peril ofhis neck. The sight of an official badge struck terror to his soul.
So it was wherever he went. He saw in every man an officer. One mighthave supposed the park policed by an army. He had just dodged one of thetwo real park policemen when he overheard a momentous conversation.
A man from the bathhouse came by.
"Anything doing, Jake?" he asked the officer.
"Nothing much," replied the policeman. "They 'phoned us a boy got awayfrom the reform school. They think he might just have come out to thepark for fun and overstayed. Ain't seen any one, have ye?"
"Not me."
"Well, if he's in here we'll get him as he goes out. I'll watch one gateand Barney the other."
So they were on the look out for him. But there was nothing in hispresent clothing to suggest the reform school boy, and though he washatless there were numbers of hatless boys in the park. There were manypeople of all kinds, in fact, and if he went with the crowd, he couldsurely slip out unnoticed. Yet he feared to attempt to pass therepresentative of the law at the gate. How conscience doth make cowardsof us all!
It was a good deed, done impulsively, that solved Glen's problem. Anautomobile was passing. The occupants were all watching the bathers inthe lake, excepting a little chap of three who had seized theopportunity to climb over the door with the evident idea of jumping tothe ground. When Glen saw him he was poised on the running board readyfor his jump. Like a flash Glen jumped for the footboard of the movingcar and interposed his body as an obstacle to the little fellow's leap.The women in the car screamed and the man who was driving stopped hiscar in surprise at the intrusion. It was only when Glen hauled thelittle boy up to view that they saw what he had done.
"I am Jonathan Gates," said the man, offering Glen his hand, "and thisis my wife and daughter. We don't know how to thank you for saving thatlittle scamp from harm."
"We might at least take you back into town," suggested Mrs. Gates.
"But I am going west, into the country," said Glen.
"That is still better," said Mr. Gates. "We live eight miles west ofhere and will take you wherever you say."
"I'll go just as far as you go," Glen replied. "I live away out west andam on my way on foot. Every mile is a help."
They passed through the gates without any notice from the officer whowas watching for an escaped Reform School boy, and Glen felt safe again.
"We have not visited the park in a long while," explained Mrs. Gates,"and it was all new to us. That is why we lost sight of Jack. He wasvery anxious to run back and see the monkeys again."
"I have never been there before at all," said Glen. "And I am glad I sawthis monkey. I was passing and I just went in by chance."
"Not chance," said Mr. Gates. "Let us say Providence. Our boy might havebeen badly hurt or even killed. Certainly you were led by Providence, orI would rather be more definite and say the hand of God."
"Oh I don't know. I guess not," stammered Glen, greatly embarrassed. Hewondered what Mr. Gates would say if he knew that he came to the park inrunning away from the reform school. He had not yet learned that thepower of God may even overrule our evil for good. But he was quitewilling to agree that his good fortune in meeting the Gates family mightbe God's providence.
He felt his good fortune still more when Mrs. Gates insisted that hemust stay with them at least one night. He yielded, thinking that hewould get up very early and slip away before they were astir in themorning. But the excitement of the day had such an effect that heoverslept and did not waken until called to breakfast.
The effect of this family was something such as Glen had never known.All they knew of him was his name, but they took him at his word. Theyaccepted his statements without a question--a most unusual thing in hisexperience. They showed him every kindness. At breakfast Mr. Gatesheaped his plate with good things. They were so cordial in theirinvitation to stay and rest for awhile that he could not refuse them.They showed to him such a spirit of love as made him feel that, afterall, Christian people were different from others, and to begin to besorry that he had taken advantage of the good, old superintendent. Theyplanted in his softened heart seeds of kindness and love which werebound to blossom.
Glen stayed two days, and might have remained longer, but on the morningof the third day, coming down early, he picked up the day-old paperwhich Mr. Gates had been reading. It was folded back at a place whichtold of his disappearance from the reform school. He was ashamed to lookagain in their faces, so he stole out the back way, passed through thebarn, and thus made his way out into the dusty road.
His thoughts, as he trudged along, were far from cheerful. Although hehad strong, boyish desires to fare forth into the world alone, he muchdisliked to leave this cheery home. Had he been a clean, honorable boywith a good record he might have stayed there and learned to be a man.
His gloomy thoughts were diverted by the sight of a man who seemed to behaving troubles of his own. He was down at the side of an automobile,perspiring freely and vexed with the whole world as he unsuccessfullylabored at changing a tire. The automobile was no ordinary car. It had adriver's seat in front and a closed car behind like the closed deliverywagons Glen had seen in town. Bright colored letters announced to theworld that J. Jervice supplied the public with a full line of novelties,including rugs, curtains, rare laces and Jervice's Live Stock ConditionPowders.
"Can I help you," volunteered Glen. It is worthy of note that theservice was freely offered before the man spoke so much as a word. Ithad not been Glen's habit to volunteer help. He was feeling theinfluence of the home he had just left.
The offer was not kindly received. The man's reply was so churlish as toleave open the suspicion that he was not naturally a man of pleasantways.
"Garn away f'm here," he snarled. "I don't need no boys spyin' around mycar."
"Who's spyin'?" asked Glen defiantly. "You seem to need somebody prettybad. You ain't man enough to strip that tire off."
"Nor nobody else wouldn't be," declared the man. "Leastways nobody withjest one pair of hands. While I pry it off one end it slips back on theother. Are you strong?" he asked, stopping to look at Glen.
"I'm pretty stout for my
age," admitted Glen, modestly, "but I don'twant to help nor spy, if you don't want me."
"I could use another pair of hands," the peddler admitted. "I can't payyou nothing for it, though, unless it be a ride to town."
"That is just what I want," agreed Glen. "It's a bargain."
The perspiration of Mr. J. Jervice had not been without occasion. Thetire he was trying to change had done good service--it was, in fact, thevery first tire that wheel had ever carried. Perhaps it cherished fondhopes of remaining in service as long as the wheel to which it clung--atleast it resisted most strenuously all efforts to detach it. Both Glenand the man were moist with their efforts before it came away, and theyaccumulated still more dirt and moisture in applying its successor. Butat last it was all done, and Glen had already mounted to the seat, whilehis companion was putting away his tools, when a cart drove up alongsideand Glen recognized in the driver, Mr. Gates.
"What's the matter?" he asked, as Mr. Gates pulled up his horse.
"What's the matter?" echoed Mr. J. Jervice; "this boy been doinganything?"
It was not an unnatural question for there was something in Mr. Gates'slook and in Glen's questioning tone that betokened affairs out of theordinary; furthermore, Mr. J. Jervice seemed to be so suspicious ofpeople in general that one might well think he had something to conceal.
"The boy's all right," replied Mr. Gates. "I have something to say tohim, that's all. If he will come over here we will drive on a few feetwhile I say it."
Glen's thoughts flew back to the folded newspaper and he was instantlysuspicious.
"I don't want to get down," he said. "This gentleman's agreed to give mea ride to town and I don't want to keep him."
"But I want you to stay," replied Mr. Gates. "I will take you to town ifyou wish, but first I want you to go back home with me and I will tellyou something important."
Glen felt one of his old, unrestrained passions rising within him.
"I know what you want," he cried. "I saw the newspaper. You want tosend me back to the reform school."
"I want to help you make a man of yourself," asserted Mr. Gates, unmovedby the boy's passion. "It's true I want you to go back to the school,but I will go with you and speak for you. You must go back because it isthe only right way out. Let me tell you, Glen, you will never get over atrouble by running away from it. The manly and Christian thing to do isto go back. And that is why I want you to do it."
"And of course you don't want the reward of ten dollars that's alwayspaid for returning a boy. You wouldn't take the money, would you?"
If the eyes of Mr. Gates were saddened by this mean sneer those of Mr.J. Jervice were not. They lightened with a sudden interest, and hejumped into the battle for the first time.
"This boy's a goin' with me," he told Mr. Gates. "He's earned a ride andI promised it and I'm a man of my word. You be off, now, and leave himalone."
"You are spoiling his best chance," said Mr. Gates. "I am not interestedin the school or the reward. I am simply trying to do my duty to theboy."
"Well, you've done it," cried Mr. J. Jervice, as his car gatheredheadway. "Good-by to ye."
He turned to Glen as the car got into its speed.
"So you've run away from the reform school, eh? And he was goin' to maketen dollars taking you back?"
"Oh, he didn't want the ten dollars," said Glen, his rage all gone. "Hetreated me awful fine while I was at his house. I just said that becauseI was mad. But he can't get me to go back; nor nobody else unless theytie me up first."
"I don't know?" said Mr. J. Jervice. "Ten dollars is pretty near aweek's pay for most men."
"That wouldn't make any difference with him," said Glen. "He's straightas a string."
Mr. Gates would have been gratified to know how deep an impression hisChristian character had made on this boy who had flouted his kindness.
Mr. J. Jervice was not inclined to conversation--he was puzzling over aproblem something akin to that of the fox and the geese (he to be thefox). So they drove along in comparative silence until, topping a hill,Glen exclaimed at the sight of the buildings of a large town.
"Are we almost there?" he asked.
"About three miles yet," said Mr. J. Jervice. "What you going to do whenwe get there?"
"I'm not sure, but I think I'd better leave you before we get to town.I don't believe Mr. Gates would telephone the police but somebody elsemight."
"You can ride with me a couple o' miles yet. Tell ye what ye can do.S'pose'n you get inside. There's lots o' room and there's a ventilatorback o' this seat will give ye air. You be real careful and not gofussing around disturbing things. There's things there I wouldn't wantye to touch."
It seemed a good idea. Mr. J. Jervice unlocked the doors in the back andGlen stepped inside. The doors slammed behind him and he heard the heavysteel bar drop into its slots. Then he heard something like a laugh--afoxy laugh. Why should Mr. J. Jervice laugh? At once his suspicions wereawakened.
As Mr. J. Jervice climbed to his seat again Glen shouted to him throughthe ventilator.
"Stop," he shouted. "I've changed my mind. I don't like being in hereand I believe I'll take my chance with you on the front seat."
Mr. J. Jervice paid no attention.