Sherrill’s voice sang cheerfully over the wire, “That’s great of you, Alan! Simply great!”
“Nothing of the kind,” said the boy huskily, with a thrill of pleasure at her tone, nevertheless.
The musty old office looked almost glorified to his eyes as he hung up the receiver and looked about him. Well, at least if he could not go to the desert, he could have a part in preparing his substitution. Now, wasn’t that great of Sherrill to remember that Bible!
He reached for his hat again and then caught sight of the open safe. He must lock that up, of course, before he left. How careless he had almost been. It showed he was not fit to take charge of the business. He must buck up and get his mind in working order.
He stooped to swing the big safe door shut and then remembered something else. What was it his father had said about papers in the safe? He ought to have looked them over earlier in the evening. How careless of him to have gone to the city and left the safe unlocked. But then, Joe, who had stayed behind, was of course perfectly trustworthy. Dad always trusted Joe utterly. But it was careless nevertheless.
Papers? Yes, now he remembered. The deed to the lots in the city. Well, he should have taken those with him of course. If there had been a chance of selling, he would have needed them. Yes, and the Westbrook Securities. And the insurance papers. Of course! And what were these?
He drew out an envelope and opened one of the crisp, crackling documents, drawing his brows in a frown. The other papers lay beside him on the floor.
Suddenly, a noise behind him startled him, and he glanced up.
There was a window behind the desk that furnished light in the daytime, and its shade was stretched high, for Joe had been reading a novel late in the afternoon and wanted all the light he could get. Instinctively Alan looked toward the window where the sound had come. Was that a face he had seen, vanishing as he looked up, or were his nerves getting on edge? Nerves, of course. Who would want to look in at a back window of the hardware store at this time of night? It opened on a back alley. Nevertheless it was careless to work at the safe so near to an open window. He reached up and drew the shade down with a snap and then turned back to his papers, lying in a heap on the floor in a little pool of bright light from the drop lamp, their titles standing out clearly. Anyone looking in the window could easily have read them. But, of course, there had been no one looking in. Should he take those papers home with him now and get acquainted with them? Perhaps that would be a good idea. Or would they be safer here behind a time lock? Safer? Why, they were safe enough anywhere, weren’t they? What were they anyway? Of course he ought to know what was under his care. Or would it be time enough for that tomorrow? He was late now for his tryst with Bob. He must go at once.
When he had turned out the lights and locked the door, he glanced back uneasily, as an inexperienced nurse might look anxiously at the sleeping infant placed in her care, and wondered if he had done everything that was usually done at night in leaving the store.
Then his mind switched ahead to Bob and the Bible, and Sherrill. Great girl, Sherrill. She was not just an ordinary girl. Not just a girl! She was as good as a fellow in some ways. A real comrade.
Bob met him at the corner.
“I thought I’d wait for you here,” he said, “and not disturb the house for two incomings.”
“That was thoughtful of you, kid!” said Alan. “I say, old man, I’ve been thinking all day how tough it’s going to be to lose you now, just as I’ve found you.”
“Same here!” said Bob. “I’ve been kicking myself all over the place all day that I’ve been such a fool as not to know what a prince of a fellow you are.”
Arm in arm they walked up the street, cementing a friendship quickly ripened over the ashes of a dead hatred.
As they swung into the street where Alan lived, a car drew up at the MarFarland house, and someone leaned out and signaled.
“That you, Mac?” called Keith Washburn. “Here’s a package Sherrill sent over. Evening, Bob.”
“Thanks awfully, Keith. Won’t you come in?” said Alan, taking the package.
“Wish I could, Mac, but I’m on my way over to West Grove. Just got a wire from a man I’ve been wanting to see for some time, and he’s taking the midnight train, so I’m hot foot to get there to ask him a few questions before he leaves. How about going with me, both of you? I’d be awfully glad of company.”
“Sorry, Keith, but Bob is leaving in the morning, and we’ve got some things to do before he goes.”
“Oh, yes, Sherrill told me about it. Great chance, Bob. Wouldn’t mind being in your boots. Dig up a few kings and buried cities for me, won’t you? Hope you have a wonderful time. We’ll think about you. Let us know how you’re coming on now and then. Well, sorry you can’t go with me. So long!”
Bob looked after the car wistfully. Somehow the hometown and the home folks had suddenly taken on a friendly look they had never shown before.
“I like him,” he said suddenly, as if he were thinking aloud.
“He certainly is a prince of a fellow,” said Alan, as he got out his latchkey.
The boys went quietly upstairs to Alan’s room and sat down to talk. As they turned on the light, they saw a big pitcher of milk and a plate of sandwiches and cake.
“Draw up and let’s have a bite,” said Alan. “My mother thinks I haven’t eaten supper evidently.”
“Is that the kind of thing mothers do?” Bob said wistfully. “Good night! And you wanted to go for dessert! Well, if I had a mother like that, I don’t know but I’d turn the job over to some other fellow, too.”
“Say,” said Alan thoughtfully, “you begin to make me think I haven’t been half appreciative of my lot.”
When they had cleared the plates and finished the milk, Alan reached for the package and untied it.
“This,” he said, as he opened the box, “is for you, Bob. It’s from the bunch. They want you to take it with you. Think you’ve got room to carry it?”
He felt just the least bit embarrassed now that he had begun. He was not quite sure how Bob would take the gift of a Bible. Perhaps after all, as Sherrill had suggested, he might resent it. He had the name of not caring much for religion or churches.
“For me?” said Bob with pleased surprise. “From the bunch? Say, what have you been saying to them? The bunch never cared a red cent for me.”
“That’s all you know about it, Bob,” said Alan. “And I haven’t said a word to them. It was all cooked up by the bunch. Sherrill Washburn is president, you know, this year, and she called me up awhile ago and asked if I thought you would mind their giving it to you.”
“Mind?” said Bob. “Indeed I do mind. I mind so much that I’ll carry it all the way in my hands if there isn’t any other place for it. What is it?”
“That’s it, Bob. I guess maybe they thought it wasn’t quite in your line. They didn’t know but you might like something else better. You see, it’s—a Bible!”
Alan stripped off the confining paper and handed over the beautifully bound Scofield Bible.
The other boy took it with a look of awe and reverence that astonished MacFarland. He held it in his hand a moment and felt of its covers, opened it and noted its suppleness, its gold edges, its fine paper, its clear print, and then looked down for an instant, almost as if he were going to cry.
“I’ve never had a Bible,” he said huskily at last, “but I’ll see to it hereafter that it’s in my line. I sure am grateful.”
“I think they’ve written something in the front,” said Alan to cover his own deep feeling. He reached over and turned the pages back to the flyleaf where it was inscribed.
To Robert Fulton Lincoln with the best wishes of his friends of the West Avenue Young People’s Group.
There followed a long string of autographs, most of them belonging to Robert Lincoln’s former schoolmates, and at the bottom in small script, 2 Timothy 2:15.
“Here, I’ve got to get my name in that space they l
eft there,” said Alan, getting out his fountain pen. “You see, I happen to be vice president of that bunch and hence the space.”
Bob watched him write his name, and a strange half-embarrassed silence filled the room till it was written.
“Thanks a lot,” he said, deeply affected, studying the names one by one. “Do you know—I never thought—I wouldn’t have expected—that is—well, you see, I’ve always thought nobody liked me. I’ve always felt awfully alone in this town. I guess that’s what made me act so rotten to you all. I thought you were a—I may as well confess it. I thought you were a lot of snobbish hypocrites.”
A strange, shamed look passed over Alan’s face, as if he had suddenly looked in the mirror and found his face dirty.
“Say, Bob,” he began, with a deep contrition, “I’m mighty sorry. I can’t ever forgive myself. But, old man, I’m beginning to think that perhaps your estimate of us was true. But Bob, we didn’t have an idea of it. Honest, we didn’t. Why, kid, we prayed for you the time you got hit by the automobile. We prayed in our Sunday night meeting for you.”
“I know you did,” said Bob with a thoughtful, faraway look, “and I hated it. One of the little kids told me, and I thought you did it to show off. But—say, Mac, I wish you’d pray for me again. I need it. It’s a mighty kind of stark living in this little old world all alone, even if I have got the chance of my lifetime.”
A great wave of love and joy thrilled up from Alan’s heart.
“I sure will,” he said, with a ring in his voice. “Let’s do it now. And I wish you’d pray for me. If ever a Christian felt mean and self-centered, and all kinds of rotten fool, I do. Come on.”
They knelt beside the big leather couch at the foot of the bed; Robert shyly, awkwardly, wondering just what he had brought upon himself by his impulsive words; but Alan in young eagerness, his arm flung across his companion’s shoulders.
“Oh, God,” he prayed, “I’ve been all kinds of a fool, but I thank You that You’ve shown me before it was too late. I thank You that You’ve given me this friend, and may we be friends always. And now won’t You just bless him, and show him what the Lord Jesus has done for him. We thank You together that the blood of Christ is sufficient to cover all our sins and mistakes, the sins and mistakes of both of us; and that even such carelessness as I have been guilty of, such lack of true witnessing for Christ, cannot keep either of us from wearing the robe of righteousness, because it is Christ’s righteousness that we may wear and not our own. Help Bob to make a surrender of himself to You before he goes, and when he goes may he take You with him, and feel that he is never alone. We ask it in the name of Jesus.”
There was silence in the room for a moment as they continued to kneel, and then Alan said softly, “You pray, too, kid, it’ll be good to remember. Kind of bind us together, you know, till you come back.”
Bob caught his breath softly, and then after a pause, he spoke huskily, hesitantly, “Oh God—I’m pretty much of a sinner, I guess. I—don’t think—I’d be much good—to You—but I need somebody—mighty bad! If You’ll take me—I’m Yours.”
He caught his breath again in a little gasp and added, “Thanks for sending Mac into my life—and for this great chance to go in his place.”
They talked a long time after the light was out and they were in bed, Alan explaining what it meant to be born again, what he had meant by “robe of righteousness,” showing his new friend how Christ had taken his sins entirely upon Himself and nailed them to the cross when He died, and that if he was willing to accept that freedom from the law that had been purchased on the cross, he had a right to stand clear and clean before God, not in his own righteousness, but in the righteousness of Christ.
Bob asked a lot of questions. The whole subject was utterly new to him. The clock struck two before the boys turned over and decided to get a little sleep. Alan had forgotten all about his own worries in the joy of leading another soul into the Light. Both boys were just drifting off into unconsciousness when they were vaguely aware of a car stopping before the door of the house. A moment later a pebble sharply struck the glass of the window, and a low whistle followed this signal.
They were alert and upright at once, and Alan sprang out of bed and went to the window.
“Who’s there?” Alan called softly, sharply from the window.
“That you, Mac?” whispered Keith Washburn softly. “Say Mac, did you leave a light on in the store?”
“Why, no!” said Alan. “Of course not.”
“Are you sure?”
“Abso-tively!” said Alan. “I know because I stumbled over a box of tin things Joe had left in the way.”
“Well, there’s one on there now,” said Keith impressively. “Just saw it as I went by. And what’s more it’s moving around like a flashlight, in the back of the store.”
“Wait a second. I’ll be down!” said Alan, flying into his clothes.
Chapter 4
Don’t get up, Bob,” said Alan struggling into a sweater. “Remember you’ve got a journey to go to tomorrow. It’s likely nothing. Go to sleep. I’ll be back in three jerks of a lamb’s tail.”
“Cut it!” said Bob, jerking on his shoes. “Whaddaya think I am, anyway, Mac?”
Keith was waiting for them downstairs, the engine running softly, and he had the car moving before they were fairly in.
“Sure you weren’t dreaming, Wash?” asked Alan, wondering why his teeth had a tendency to chatter, and trying to remember whether he had finally brought those papers home with him or left them in the safe. He had a ghastly feeling that he had left them in the safe. Oh, if Dad were only well!
“Dreaming!” said Keith contemptuously. “Well, I might have been of course. I saw the light when I first rounded the corner of the post office and I thought it was odd. Thought you must have forgotten to turn it out, or else you decided to leave it burning. But when I got around the front of the store, it was all dark, so I concluded I had been mistaken. Thought it was just a reflection or something. But when I got down to your corner, I looked back, and it flashed up again and moved around. Then I decided you had gone down to the store after something, but somehow I wasn’t easy and thought I’d better see if I could get in touch with you. Thought maybe you could explain it.”
They were rounding the corner into the main street now, and suddenly Bob laid a detaining hand on the wheel.
“Better stop here, Washburn,” he suggested. “If you go nearer, the engine can be heard.”
“That’s right, Lincoln. I ought to have thought of that. I’ll park here in the shadow, and we’ll sneak up. Probably it’s only some trick of the streetlights reflecting somewhere, and I’ll feel like two cents. Probably I’ve only got a case of nerves, riding half the night. If it is, I’ll feel cheap as dirt to think I woke you up, but it’s always just as well to be on the safe side.”
“Sure thing,” said Alan with set lips, as he swung to the ground softly and wondered for the fortieth time whether he had taken those papers home or left them in the safe.
“There is a light in there,” whispered Bob as they stole along, walking on the grass at the edge of the pavement so that their feet made no sound. “There! See there! It’s moving around. Now, it’s gone. No, there it is again.”
“I’ll slide around to the alley,” whispered Alan. “It might be I can look in the back window. They’re operating down by the safe, whoever it is. You two watch this side and the front, will you?”
“Don’t do anything rash, Mac! Perhaps we better call the officer. He ought to be in the region about now.”
“No, wait! I want to get a line on things first,” said Alan as he slid off into the darkness, plunging swiftly down the alleyway that separated his father’s store from the millinery store just beyond, and passed the window behind his father’s desk.
Softly Washburn and Lincoln stepped up to the front of the store and tried to look through the front windows, but the window decorations prevented their seeing more tha
n an indefinite dancing light that went here and there, and sometimes disappeared entirely.
Keith stepped to the door and peered through the window, but a stand full of brooms stood right in his line of vision, and he could not be sure, though once he thought he saw a dark form move across the dim distance, and then the light appeared from a new angle.
How did the man get into the store, if man it was?
Softly, he slid his hand down to the door latch and tried it, taking great care, but the creaking old latch suddenly gave out a grating sound, and simultaneously the light inside the store went out. There followed a dull thud, as of heavy metal books falling. And then a crash of metal, a lot of heavy metal articles falling against one another, a sort of scuffling sound, and then silence. Ominous silence.
Frantically Keith put his shoulder to the door and tried to push it open, but the old door was held by heavy bolts at the top and bottom, and was made of strong oak planks. Keith could not do anything but rattle it.
“We’d better call Mac and break this door open,” said Keith. “This looks odd!” But Bob had already disappeared down the alley, and Keith tiptoed to the corner of the store, with a sharp eye out, however, toward the front that there should be no possibility of anyone escaping in that direction.
Meanwhile, Alan, as he ran down the alley, had been still trying to solve the problem about those papers. Had he taken them home or left them in the safe? And what were they worth anyway? Deeds and securities! Insurance papers! If they were lost or stolen, did it spell calamity, or was everything recorded that they would lose nothing? And why would anybody want to get any of these papers? It must have something to do with the people who were trying to foreclose the mortgage—unless, perhaps, this was just a common thief looking for money in the safe. What was that paper his father had spoken about? The “agreement” he had called it, something about not foreclosing under certain conditions. It was strange how his father’s words came back now in the stress of panic. Oh, how careless he had been not to attend to this matter right away!
Chance of a Lifetime Page 4