CHAPTER XVII
BIDDY HARRIGAN REMEMBERS
"Cast thy bread--cast thy bread upon the waters,
"And it shall return--it shall return unto thee after many days,"chanted a clear, high voice, truly a wonderful voice, which Bert claimedas his own discovery.
It was almost bed-time in the camp. The day had been a most fatiguingone, and all had returned so weary that no one cared for the usuallively evening entertainment. Even Mr. Hollis had said that he was"dog-tired," and he felt with the boys that the very finest thing in theworld was just stretching out on the grass, resting weary feet, andsaying to one's self: "Nothing to do till tomorrow."
It was a perfect evening, cool and quiet. There was no moon, but thestars twinkled brightly, and the boys had been looking up at them andtrying to make out some of the six constellations that everyone shouldbe familiar with. But even that, in their present state of laziness, wastoo much like work, and now they lay doing and almost thinking nothing.
Even Don, the big collie, that the tramps had deserted, was not inclinedto romp with the boys as usual, but lay quietly with his great headresting upon his paws. He had become the pet and plaything of the wholecamp and treated them all impartially except Bert whom he had chosen ashis one particular master. He wanted no other heaven than this--to lie,as now, close to Bert, whose hand caressed his head while he said nowand again: "Good dog"; "Good old fellow!" Don, like the boys, was atpeace with all the world.
Suddenly, someone started a popular air in which all joined. This putthem in a musical humor, and song followed song, changing after a whilefrom popular music and rollicking college songs to those of a moresentimental nature. Most of the boys had good voices. With the sopranoof some, the tenors of the older fellows and Mr. Hollis' fine bass, thecamp singing would have delighted any lover of music.
Whenever the boys had sung together, they had noticed that Phil's voicehad never joined in with the others. They had guyed him about it but ashe would never answer them, they had come to the conclusion that hecould not sing and was sensitive about it, so they had stopped teasinghim.
To-night, as the notes of "The Soldier's Farewell" floated over thecamp, Bert noticed that Shorty was singing for the first time, andthough his voice was low as though he were purposely holding it back,for fear the attention of the boys might be drawn to it, the notes wereremarkably clear and pure.
When the song ended, Bert turned to Phil and asked him if he likedmusic. Phil answered that he loved it and added more as if he werethinking aloud than talking, that it was "the finest thing on earth."
The boys sat up and stared. There was a moment of surprised silence andthen a chorus of voices:
"Then you can sing?"
"We never dreamed you could."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
"Why wouldn't you sing for us?"
"Because," said Phil, who had decided to tell them the real reason atlast, "because all you big fellows thought that just because I wassmall, I couldn't do anything worth while, and I was sore."
The fellows expressed their regret and then in responses to a few kindlyquestions put by Mr. Hollis, they learned that Shorty's ambition was toobtain a thorough musical education. They learned too that for two yearspast he had been the soloist in the boy choir of one of the prominentchurches in New York. He had joined the boy choir because there he couldgain, without cost, a knowledge of sight reading and voice control.
Bert's "Won't you sing something for us, Phil?" was not to be resistedand after a moment's thought his clear notes rose in a burst of melody:
"Cast thy bread upon the waters"----
The boys fairly held their breath as the flutelike notes of one of thefinest voices they had ever heard, floated off into the woodland spaces.
When he had finished, every one sat spellbound, paying the highesttribute of a moment of perfect silence. Even when the silence was brokenby hearty hand clapping, the spell of the music still brooded over them.It had been too fine for noisy applause.
The boys' appreciation of his singing was very grateful to Phil, and notthe least tribute was Tom's: "Gee, Phil, I hope the birds didn't wake upto hear that. They would have been green with envy."
The tension was broken by Sam's asking: "What does that mean, 'Cast thybread upon the waters'--and how can it return?" Mr. Hollis was glad toexplain that no kind deed or word is ever wasted, but is sure to returnblessings on the one who gave it, if only in the glow that a kind actionalways brings.
But, uplifted as the boys had been, it is not in boy nature to stay longupon the heights and they soon came down to earth again.
Jim showed how fully he had come back to earth by remarking as hesuddenly remembered that owing to a miscalculation as to the elasticnature of a boy's capacity, both flour and corn meal had given out, andthat in consequence, nothing in the shape of bread had come their waythat night: "I wish some real bread were coming tomorrow. I am notparticular about its coming by water. It can get here any old way, aslong as it comes."
The sound of someone approaching the camp aroused them. Irish Kittyappeared, with a big basket on one arm and a great bunch of red roses inher apron.
As soon as the boys saw the flowers, a shout went up: "Roses! roses!What beauties!" and on Kitty saying that she had counted them and therewas one for each, they were seized upon and distributed in a twinkling.
Now, Kitty stated that she had a "prisint for the young gintlemin" fromher mother, Mrs. Harrigan, "to thank thim for the foine illigant ride inthe artymobile."
The big basket was uncovered and there lay revealed to the eyes of thedelighted boys a number of large loaves of delicious homemade bread.One did not need to taste that bread to know its value. The firm whiteloaves spoke for themselves. Corn bread they had in plenty every day,but white wheat flour bread was not included in their regular camprations, so that this was indeed a treat. They were all devouring italready in imagination, and each wished it were morning so that theymight begin in reality.
Kitty departed amid "Good nights" and hearty thanks to her mother, and,camp bed time having arrived, all drifted toward their tents, Tom gailysinging:
"'Tis a name That no shame Has iver been connected with Harrigan! That's me."
All at once some one shouted: "Look at Ben Cooper." They turned to seeBen standing like a statue, eyes fixed on nothing, staring straightahead of him.
"Say, fellows," said he, "that bread that we cast on the waters on ourway home from the doctor's the other day sure did come back, didn'tit?"
"It certainly did and it didn't take 'many days' either to get here,"said Tom.
"And," chimed in Shorty, "a big bunch of red roses thrown in, too."
"Yes, Caruso," added Bert, throwing his arm affectionately over Phil'sshoulder, "you must be a prophet as well as a singer."
Very soon the tired boys were off to dreamland, where visions of loavesof fluffy white bread, each loaf with a red rose growing out of it,floated about, and imaginative Dave dreamed that old Biddy made a"prisint" of a loaf to each one, singing in a high cracked voice as shehanded them around: "Harrigan! That's me!"
Bert Wilson at the Wheel Page 17