Chapter IV: Some Wonderful News

Two days after the Hallowe’en episode, Dick Horner, walking along the main street of Cliffwood, stopped to look in at the window of the sporting goods establishment. The display of guns, fishing tackle, football and hockey requirements, as well as many games for home and club entertainment, always possessed a peculiar fascination for Dick.

He sighed now as he surveyed these tempting things, for money being always a scarce commodity at the little Horner cottage, poor Dick could not afford to squander much on luxuries.

A hearty slap on the back awakened him from his little day dream. Turning quickly he found that his chum, Leslie Capes, was standing beside him, with a broad smile on his face.

“Made up your mind which gun you want, old fellow?” the newcomer asked, jauntily. “Or perhaps now it was some of that football stuff you were mapping out to buy?”

Dick laughed to hide the spasm that shot through his heart; for he realized that he needed a new suit of clothes more than he did any of those fine articles so temptingly displayed.

“Well, I haven’t decided just yet, Leslie,” he said, lightly enough, considering what his feelings had been a moment before. “I’m glad you came along, for I was just on the point of going over to your house to see you.”

“I’ll wager a cookey I can guess what your errand was,” remarked the other.

“Give a try then,” Dick went on to say. “I don’t believe you’ll come within a thousand yards of it.”

“Well, this is Friday afternoon, isn’t it, and we got out early from school,” the other boy started to explain. “That makes tomorrow Saturday, and it seems that four of us fellows have a date to get off with our horse and wagon in the morning to visit that hickory grove about seven miles up the Sweetwater, where we’ve heard the nuts were mighty thick this fall, and plenty still on the ground.”

Leslie finished with an expectant smile, as though he really believed he must have struck the bull’s-eye the first shot. He was surprised to see Dick shake his head in the negative.

“Better try again,” the other told him.

“Oh! if it’s as deep as all that I’ll have to throw up the sponge, and own myself beaten,” admitted Leslie. “That’s about the only thing I can think of; unless you’ve got something to tell me about that Deacon Nocker scrape the other night. Did he drop over and see your mother, Dick, after sending your cap to you by one of his store boys?”

“Not a word has been said,” replied Dick, “and I was beginning to wonder what had come over Mr. Nocker, because he’s usually so bitter toward boys. But the mystery has all been made clear since I met Mr. Holwell, the minister, about half an hour ago.”

“Did he coax the old deacon to go easy with us, Dick? It would be just like Mr. Holwell, for he’s the best friend the boys of Cliffwood ever had.”

“Yes, it happened that Mr. Holwell and Harry Bartlett were talking on the morning after Hallowe’en when they saw the deacon heading for police headquarters. He told them what had happened, and how he knew who three of the boys were who had dared to enter his house at midnight and tried to give him a terrible fright.”

“Whew! is that a fact, Dick? I can guess what Mr. Holwell and Harry did then.”

“Yes, they were worried for fear of what the consequences might be, and finally managed to talk the deacon into giving up his idea of having us arrested for trespass and breaking into his house. Then the two got to talking over matters, and the result was a secret meeting held that night at the parsonage.”

“Why, my Uncle Henry was out that night, and I couldn’t get him to tell me where he’d been!” exclaimed Leslie. “He looked mighty mysterious too, and told me to just hold my horses, and in good time I might hear something drop.”

“Well,” continued Dick, impressively, “at that meeting, so Mr. Holwell has just informed me, for it isn’t going to be kept a secret any longer, they decided to form a Junior Department of the Y. M. C. A. so as to keep the younger boys of the town off the streets nights, by supplying them with all sorts of entertainments in the headquarters building of the association.”

Despite the fact that many people were passing in both directions on that November afternoon, since they stood on the main street of bustling Cliffwood, Leslie Capes snatched off his cap and waved it wildly above his head several times.

“Bully for that!” he exclaimed. “It’s the best thing that ever happened to Cliffwood since the day the old town was first started. Oh, I can see what a big help that’s going to be for all the decent boys. And in the good old summer time we can have all sorts of hikes and camping trips. That is a great surprise you’ve rung in on me, Dick!”

“Hold on!” remarked Dick. “It isn’t only the decent fellows that are going to have a chance to join the club. Mr. Holwell believes in giving _every one_ a show, even Nat Silmore, Dit Hennesy, and their crowd. And any of the boys who work in the mills can be members if they agree to the rules of the organization.”

“Whew! I wonder how that will work?” said Leslie, frowning. “I mean about Nat and Dit, for they’re always such trouble-makers, you know.”

“Well, Mr. Holwell is willing to give them all the chances he can to make good, but you know that he isn’t going to stand too much nonsense,” Dick continued. “If Nat starts a racket he’ll find himself outside the door in a hurry, unless I miss my guess.”

“We’ll soon be rid of him then,” laughed the other boy, “because it’s just as natural for Nat to make himself disagreeable as it is for water to run down hill. But this is great news you’ve been telling me, Dick. Queer that I didn’t guess it must have had some connection with Mr. Holwell, because he’s always thinking how he can help the boys along.”

“It’s going to be the beginning of a new era in Cliffwood, he says,” Dick continued. “He thinks things are getting pretty near the breaking point, because for a fact the boys here have been going it strong of late. I can see that we’ll have jolly times this winter in that gymnasium and the club rooms.”

“As like as not Mr. Holwell will get up a whole lot of entertainments for us, such as moving pictures of an educational nature,” suggested Leslie.

“He spoke of that,” Dick volunteered, “and also told me we would have something of our own to do, though I don’t believe he’s made up his mind yet what it will be. But once I heard him tell my mother that years ago he used to belong to a traveling minstrel show, and had gone through a pack of interesting adventures while on the road. So it maybe something along that order.”

“That would be simply immense!” exclaimed the delighted Leslie. “And they could make you an end man, Dick. With that ventriloquist voice of yours I can see how you’d bring down the house.”

“We won’t cross any bridges till we come to them,” laughed Dick. “I’m willing to do my part, no matter where they put me. You see, Mr. Holwell had a little talk with me about a whole lot of things, and I sort of made him a promise--never mind what it was about.”

Leslie looked at his chum seriously and then went on to say:

“Mebbe I can give a pretty good guess what he said, Dick; but some other time you may take a notion to tell me. Mr. Holwell is a fine man, and if anybody can control the boys of Cliffwood, he ought to. But I’ve got an errand in town, so I’ll have to break away from you, expecting to see you at the house at eight sharp tomorrow morning. Then ho! for the shellbarks by the bushel, enough for a whole winter’s supply.”

“Don’t be in such a big hurry, Leslie,” urged Dick.

“What! have you got another dark secret to tell me?” demanded the other, laughingly.

Dick looked cautiously around him. Then he nodded his head.

“It’s a sure enough secret this time,” he observed, in a lowered voice. “Wait up a minute, because there’s Deacon Nocker coming along the street, and of all the people in Cliffwood he’s the last I’d want to have overhear what I’m going to tell you.”

Of course, this excited the curiosity of Leslie more than ever. He managed to hold his feelings in check while the grim old storekeeper walked past. Deacon Nocker gave the two boys one malicious look, and with a sneer on his thin face said:

“Hatching up some more of your tricks, I expect. But I give you plain warning that these scandalous goings-on are not to be tolerated any longer in a respectable town like Cliffwood. Better be going home and doing your chores. Loafing on street corners never gave any boy a lift in life; but it has helped many a lad to start to the penitentiary.”

Then the worthy deacon walked on with his head lifted proudly, as though he really believed he had fulfilled his duty as a Christian in warning the boys of the rocks upon which they were drifting, even though he had not stretched out a helping hand to assist them.

“The old curmudgeon!” muttered Leslie. “How he does hate all boys! No wonder his own son ran away from home years ago. Say, that big house must have seemed like a cold storage plant to that boy, for there couldn’t have been anything like warmth and happiness inside of it, with Old Jed Nocker present. I’m glad he isn’t any relation to me, that’s all I can say.”

“Listen, Leslie,” Dick continued, lowering his voice still more. “You’ll think it queer, I know, but all the same it’s about that same boy, Amos Nocker, that I’m going to say something right now.”

“But look here, Dick, didn’t we hear some time ago that Amos had married, and later on died far away out West somewhere?”

“It was true too, Leslie. He married a sweet little girl, and for a time managed to support her in comfort, because Amos had turned over a new leaf, you see. Then he came down with tuberculosis, and trouble stepped in.”

“Whew! that was rough,” said the other, his boyish heart touched with genuine sympathy. “And just after Amos was getting a fair start, too. But why didn’t he write to his rich father and get help?”

“He did, but his letter was returned unopened,” Dick explained. “In the end poor Amos Nocker died, just as we heard.”

“Leaving a widow and a child.”

“Just what it was, Leslie--the sweetest little woman you ever knew, and the boy is a darling if ever there was one. You see she wrote to the old man telling him about Amos’ sad death, and that she and the boy were almost penniless.”

“Did that touch the heart of Jed Nocker?”

“He answered her letter, and what do you think he said?” continued Dick, between his set teeth. “That as for her, he vowed never to set eyes on the face of the woman who had married his boy, thinking to come into some of his father’s hard-earned money; but that if she chose to send the child on to him he would care for it. But _she_ must never darken his doors with her presence.”

“The cold-blooded old wretch!” burst out Leslie, indignantly. “But see here, Dick, how do you happen to know all this?”

“For the simple reason that Amos Nocker’s young widow, and the child, little Billy, are over at our house right now!” came the astonishing answer that staggered the listener, and caused him to gasp as he stared at Dick.