Chapter III: The Boy Who Had Promised

One night a week the boys comprising the Junior Department of the local Y. M. C. A. held a meeting in the room in the building Cliffwood’s citizens had presented to the organization that was doing so much good work for young men in the community.

On certain afternoons they were also allowed free use of the gymnasium. A comparatively new swimming pool was enjoyed by many after they had exercised. Then there was a bowling alley, and some of the more expert among the boys ran up pretty high scores.

On the night after the ball game on the commons and the fire at the Bratton barn, the boys commenced gathering before the time appointed for the special meeting to take place. Little knots talked seriously as they came together, for it was known that Dick meant to bring with him a report of the success or failure attending their efforts to secure the camping grounds owned by a Mr. Marley on the small lake named after him.

“Some of you fellows,” Dan Fenwick was saying to a group around him, “who didn’t happen to be at the ball game to-day will be interested to know that Dick says we’re going to have a football eleven this fall, to try to hold up the honor of Cliffwood with the rest of the towns around this end of the woods.”

“Glad to hear that, Dan!” exclaimed one lad, warmly.

“Always said we ought to do something to show our colors,” added another. “And it’s come all because of Mr. Howell and his scheme for getting up this Boys’ Department of the Y. M. C. A. That’s done the trick! You don’t run across many fellows loafing on the street corners these nights. They’d rather be in here reading the magazines, or taking part in some of the things that are going on every little while.”

“And there’s no reason,” a third went on to say, boldly, “why Cliffwood shouldn’t have a hockey team, and a cracking good baseball nine next season, to boot. We’ve got the stuff all right. With good backing we might even hope to fetch a trophy home with us once in a while.”

“There’s Mr. Bartlett, going to call the meeting to order,” remarked Dan.

At this speech every one of the boys settled down in a seat; for these meetings were usually conducted with as much decorum and order as those carried on by the older members of the Y. M. C. A. organization.

Harry Bartlett usually presided at these gatherings of the boys’ club, but he took pleasure in frequently turning the meeting over to Dick, who had been duly elected to the office. This evening as soon as the meeting had been called to order he asked Dick to take the chair.

The secretary was just beginning to call the roll when there came a series of squeals and grunts. At the same time three small pigs were seen running wildly about the room, creating much excitement as they darted back and forth under the chairs and amidst the legs of twenty-odd boys gathered there.

Every one knew that Nat and his two cronies had liberated the pigs, for they were standing in the doorway and laughing heartily at the frantic efforts of the boys to catch the dodging pigs. All thought of business was suspended until this duty had been accomplished, after which the offending pigs were summarily ejected from the building.

Nat pretended to feel sorry over it.

“We meant to lug the little critters over to Mr. Bratton’s house,” he went on to explain, “to find out if he meant to offer a reward for their safe return. But now they’re loose again, and in the night nobody could ever catch the slippery imps. We were goin’ to stop in and let you know we’d be back this way before long, when they broke loose on us. But it’s all right anyway, and no damage done, I reckon.”

Of course every one knew the incident was intended to be one of Nat’s famous practical jokes, but since the excitement had now died down, and Mr. Bartlett said nothing to the contrary, Dick concluded to forget it.

“The meeting will again come to order,” he called out, vigorously rapping the table with the gavel, borrowed from the seniors. “The secretary will start over again with roll call.”

This duty having been carried out, the regular business of the meeting was next in order. It could easily be seen that all of the boys present displayed more or less anxiety to hear the reports of certain of the committees.

“I’ll ask the vice-president to occupy the chair while I make my report as the committee of one to call on Doctor Madison and find out what our chances are of getting Camp Marley.”

When Dick made this remark he vacated his seat, Leslie taking his place temporarily. Every boy present leaned forward and glued his eager eyes on Dick.

“It isn’t just the thing for the presiding officer of an organization,” began the one who was on his feet, “to act on a committee; but in this case it happens that I started the business with Doctor Madison, and he asked me to drop in and see him this evening when on the way here. He went out to Mr. Marley’s this afternoon as he expected. I’m sorry to tell you he brought back bad news for us.”

Some of the expectant ones emitted groans at hearing this.

“It’s all off, then,” said Dan Fenwick. “I just thought things would fall flatter than a pancake when the Cliffwood boys started to do anything worth while. It’s hard luck, that’s what. We’re pursued by a hoodoo, I believe.”

“Go on and tell us the worst, Dick!” urged Peg Fosdick.

“Yes, we can stand it all right, I should say,” added Elmer Jones, grimly. “P’r’aps one knock-down may make us wake up, and think of some other way of spending our summer vacation.”

“Mr. Marley sent word that we had made our application just three days too late,” continued Dick, smiling sadly. “He’s promised the camp on his lake to a party of fellows coming over from Emoryville. They belong to the scouts there, I understand, and mean to stay most of the summer, doing all sorts of stunts.”

As this meeting had been called especially to learn about the result of their effort to secure a good camping ground, interest began to subside as soon as Dick had made his depressing report. Most of the boys looked gloomy. They had been counting so much on this outing that their disappointment was keen.

“Remember this doesn’t mean that we’ve got to give the scheme up altogether,” Dick told a group around him after the meeting had been hastily adjourned. “There are more places than Lake Marley that can be used for camping, though we’d like it a heap better if we could be near the water. Let every fellow hustle, and try to get track of another good site, so as to report to-morrow night when we have our regular meeting here.”

Even Nat looked troubled, for he, too, had counted on having the time of his life, if once the boys of the junior organization found themselves in camp. Nat was always looking for new opportunities to play some of his jokes, and he believed he would find many splendid chances under the novel surroundings of camp life.

Asa Gardner walked part way home with Dick on this night, and Leslie soon caught up with them. Asa was a pale lad who needed outdoor exercise very much. He had been greatly depressed by the fact of their failure to obtain permission to camp on the shore of Lake Marley.

“Oh! you don’t know how much I’ve been counting on getting a week or two out in the open air,” he confided to Dick, as the three of them walked along. “And besides, you promised to show me a whole lot of things about living in the woods that I’d just love to hear about, Dick. My mother told me I ought to stay outdoors all I could, for you know I once had an older brother who died from lung trouble.”

“Well, don’t give it up yet, Asa,” Dick told him. “Some of us are not going to throw up the sponge so easy as all that. Wait and see what can be done. I’m glad that you seem to be enjoying the club. Mr. Holwell takes a lot of interest in you, I notice. He told me only yesterday that he expected to see the day when you’d be up among the leaders, after you got well started.”

“Mr. Holwell is the best man living,” said Asa, warmly. “When he’s talking to me I just seem to feel that I could do anything in the world to please him. He makes you see things the way he does. If I ever do amount to a row of beans it’ll be through Mr. Holwell, and not because it was in me.”

“You’re wrong there, Asa,” said Dick, kindly. “It’s got to be in you first of all, but he knows just how to draw it out. And any fellow who does things the way Mr. Holwell advises is bound to climb the ladder, as sure as he lives.”

Asa left the others soon afterward, as his home lay in a different direction.

“I don’t know just what to make of that chap,” said Leslie, as he and Dick continued on their way. “He used to be the sneakiest fellow going, and was always getting things in his pockets that belonged to others. Just couldn’t help it, I’ve heard people say, for he was like one of his uncles who used to be a shady financier down around Wall Street, New York City, and always grabbing things.”

Dick laughed a little at the queer conceit. Leslie was always saying odd things calculated to make others smile, it seemed.

“Well, if Asa has really conquered that weakness,” Dick went on to say soberly, “he deserves a heap of credit. Other fellows, who never knew what it was to feel that itching come over them so they just couldn’t resist a chance to take something, would never understand what the poor fellow has been up against.”

“You seem to believe he’s really and truly reformed, Dick.”

“I certainly do,” returned the other boy, warmly. “And if you care to hear why I’ll explain, though only if you promise never to breathe a word of it.”

“Count on me to keep the secret, Dick. I’ll be as dumb as any oyster you ever saw, so fire away.”

“Listen, then,” resumed the other, seriously. “One day about a week or so ago I was sent on an errand, and crossed the town graveyard to cut a corner. Somehow, when I was about half-way over, I thought I heard a voice, and yet I couldn’t see any one at first. I confess I was filled with curiosity, and looked around. Then I saw something move, and I stepped that way as softly as I could.”

“Oh! then it was Asa,” interrupted Leslie, feelingly. “And the chances are he was at his mother’s grave.”

“That’s where I found him,” said Dick, winking hard; “though I didn’t let him know I was around. He was lying there with his arms outspread, poor chap, and I guess he must have felt that his mother could hear him saying what he did, for it was to her he kept talking, now and then stopping to cry a little. I tell you, Leslie, it gave me a queer feeling to hear him; and pretty soon I slipped away without his knowing I’d been around.”

“What was he saying, Dick?” asked the other boy, with an intake of his breath.

“As near as I can remember it,” replied Dick, “he said something like this: ‘Oh, Mother! it’s hard to know you’re lying here all alone. But I’ll never forget what I promised you, and I’m trying with all my might and main to fight it out. I’ll win, too, Mother, I promise you I will! But oh! if I could only see you once more I’d be so happy!’”

Leslie was silent for a short time after Dick said this. He was not quite sure of his voice, which did sound a bit unsteady when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry now I ever believed Asa was bound to fall back again into his old ways, Dick. But Dan keeps on saying mean things about him, because once, you know, Asa stole something he valued a heap, and Dan has never quite forgotten it. After what you heard I reckon he _will_ win out, and for one I’m going to help him all I can. The poor fellow needs friends to back him, just as Mr. Holwell said.”

“That sounds just like you, Leslie,” remarked Dick, slapping his chum heartily on the back at the same time. “And I’m with you every time. We may be of some help to poor lonely Asa; and anyway he’ll feel stronger if he sees that we believe in him.”

“Well, here’s where I have to say good night, Dick,” the other remarked, a few minutes later.

“It’s early still, Leslie. Why not come with me over to Mr. Nocker’s house. He’ll be expecting me after the meeting.”

“Hello! what’s in the wind now?” demanded Leslie, with a vein of boyish curiosity in his voice.

“Oh! nothing much,” came the answer. “I promised to let the deacon know how the meeting turned out, that’s all. You remember he’s taking a whole lot of interest nowadays in everything that concerns boys, and especially the fellows belonging to the Juniors of the Y. M. C. A.”

“That’s right; he is for a fact,” said Leslie, with a laugh. “It is one of the latter-day miracles, my folks say. Time wasn’t so long ago when Deacon Nocker seemed just to despise all boys. I guess it was because he made a foozle of bringing up his own son, who got in trouble, ran away from home, and left a wife and child when he died.”

“Well, we had something to do with making the old gentleman fall in love with his own grandson,” chuckled Dick in turn. “For that, it seems he’s never forgiven us, for he keeps trying to do us favors right along.”

They continued walking, and presently turned in at a gate. The grounds belonging to Deacon Nocker’s place were quite extensive. He was the richest storekeeper in Cliffwood, and had been a surly old fellow until recently, when a marvelous change for the better had come over him.

The deacon himself let them in, and his thin face was wreathed with a smile as they shook hands heartily with him. People used formerly to say that it felt like touching a snake to grasp the deacon’s cold hand. But that was when his heart was chilly too. Nowadays he was smiling all the day long, and really there was a vigor in the way he squeezed an outstretched hand that amazed his fellow townsmen.

“Little Billy wanted to stay up when he heard you were coming over later,” he was telling Dick, as he ushered the boys into his library, where his daughter-in-law, Tilly, was seated, doing some sewing at the table.

“I’m sorry he couldn’t,” remarked Dick, shaking hands with the pretty mother of the youngster, and who always had a smile for this boy friend who had done so much to assist her to make peace with Billy’s stern grandfather.

“I have just come downstairs after putting him to bed,” she told Dick. “I wish you could hear him at his prayers. He always insists on remembering you after he mentions his ‘darling mother’ and his ‘grand-daddy.’ You’re Billy’s one hero, Dick. He will never forget how you saved him from the fire,” she added, referring to an incident already related in my previous story.

“Well, he’s a dear little chap, that’s a fact,” remarked the boy, turning red with confusion as he always did when being praised. “But we’ve only stopped in as I promised you I would, Mr. Nocker, to report the poor success we’ve had so far in finding a suitable camp-site.”

The deacon raised his eyebrows, nor could Leslie believe that he looked in the least sorry.

“Tell me how you came out with regard to that site on Lake Marley,” requested the deacon.

“We had news through Doctor Madison that it has been promised to the scout troop over in Emoryville,” Dick went on to say. “So far we seem to be up in the air as to just where we can go. But, of course, we’ll find some place or other.”

“When do you have your next meeting?” asked Mr. Nocker, as the boys prepared to take their departure.

“To-morrow, sir, is the regular night for it,” he was told. “Every one has been asked to pick up any information he can in connection with another camp-site.”

“Well, I certainly hope that you will be successful in finding something to suit you, boys,” the deacon said, as they reached the door. “If I can be of any help, let me know, won’t you?”

“We certainly will, with pleasure, sir, and thank you for the offer.”

As Dick said this he and his chum strode toward the gate. Leslie was muttering to himself in a peculiar way he had. A minute later he broke out with:

“I don’t believe the deacon cares very much whether we get a camp or not, Dick. He was chuckling to himself most of the time, and rubbing his hands together like a miser. Perhaps he’s getting tired of playing godfather to a pack of boys.”

“Wait and see,” said Dick, mysteriously, and soon afterwards the chums separated.