Ransom

by Grace Livingston Hill

  “They sure are worrying, all right!” said the agent, settling down on his high stool before the telegraphic instrument. “The papers are full of it, got yer picture in every day, broadcasted twice a day. Folks all over the continent and some in Europe lookin’ fer ya.”

  “Good night!” said Rannie.

  “Come ta look at ya,” went on the excited agent, “I believe I’d a known ya from yer pictures. There is a lotta resemblance, only the description of yer clothes don’t exactly fit.”

  “Ain’t it the truth?” he answered. “But say, buddy, get that message started, won’t ya? I wanna get that off my chest and go out an’ hunt a job so I can get me some clothes an’ go home.”

  “Sure thing,” said the agent, turning back to his instrument and clicking out the address to Randall Kershaw’s father.

  “I guess you’re goin’ ta put our little old town on the map taday, ain’t ya?” he said, looking up delightedly. “I might even get inta the papers myself, sendin’ this first message. But say, there’s a guy in an airplane here been scourin’ the mountain fer ya two days back. I don’t know if he’s still round this mornin’ ur not, but he’s stayin’ at my aunt’s. My aunt, she keeps boarders. Him an’ the other guy, the pilot, put up there, an’ they keep their plane out beyond town in a field. My little cousin went up with ’em yestiday. Say, ya better go down to my aunt’s an’ see if they’re still here. They wanted ta find ya bad.”

  “Name of what?” said Rannie with narrowing gaze. Were these friends or enemies who were after him?

  “Name of Harper,” said the eager agent.

  “Oh, gee!” said Rannie, suddenly, a little eager boy himself. “Not Phil Harper. What kind of a looking guy is he? I wonder if my dad sent him?”

  “Sure he did!” said the agent. “You wait till I send this message an’ get the mailbags on this down train, an’ I’ll take ya over to my aunt’s myself.”

  Rannie slumped into a station seat, his shoulders drooping wearily, and listened to his message being ticked out on the instrument, wondering if his journey was very nearly at the end or whether he would have to hike back home anyway.

  Just then the station door opened and two young men in flying clothes walked in without looking toward him and went over to the little ticket window.

  “I want to send a message immediately,” said the tall one.

  And then Rannie felt himself get weak all over, and the tears crowd into his eyes. For a minute he couldn’t control himself, couldn’t make his legs lift him to a standing posture, couldn’t make his voice speak. For he knew who these must be, and it was just too much for him, coming all at once this way.

  Then he heard the agent, clicking out the last word of his own telegram, call triumphantly, “Say, is that yer man settin’ out there? He says he is, an’ he’s jest sent a message ta his folks. Ef he ain’t the one, he’s got his nerve. I was just gonta bring him over ta have ya give him the once-over.”

  Philip turned sharply and looked at Rannie, and Rannie managed to stumble to his feet and flash on his wicked young grin, the same grin that was in all his football pictures that had been broadcasted through the land in all the newspapers. It was unmistakable. Philip had not seen Rannie since he was a baby, but that grin, together with a certain appeal in the brown eyes that reminded him of Christobel, made Philip Harper certain, and he strode across the room and literally took the poor dirty forlorn boy in his arms.

  “Aw, say,” protested Rannie, “lay off me till I get a scrub. I’m filthy dirty. Ya’ll get messed up!”

  But the tears were running down Rannie’s poor thin face, and he was grinning with all his might. A great weakness was upon him. He felt he was never going to be able to live down these tears, but somehow he didn’t care.

  “Say, old man, how did you get here?” asked Harper after they had all talked at once and all slapped Rannie on his slumping shoulders till he felt if they did it again he would collapse.

  “Walked,” said Rannie crisply, and grinned again through tears.

  “What became of your captors?” asked Philip.

  “I didn’t wait ta see,” said the boy. “They heard a posse was coming and lit out, so I thought I’d just file off my bracelets an’ take a stroll on my own hook.”

  “Could you find your way back?” asked the other flier.

  “Not if I know myself,” said Rannie with a feeble wink. “Boy! I’ve seen all of that cabin I want ta ever see.”

  The faces of the two young men kindled as they exchanged pitiful glances.

  “Perhaps it won’t be so bad from the sky,” said Philip.

  “Oh, boy! Are we going in a plane?” exclaimed Rannie. Then he sighed wearily. “It’s okay with me, then, only lead me to a bath and a full meal first. Don’t happen ta have any extra clothes with ya, do ya?”

  “I sure do,” said Philip eagerly. “Your sister packed some of your things in my suitcase for you. Come on back to our room and get a bath and some food, and then we’ll talk. But first I’ve got to send the glad news.”

  Rannie went out to the waiting car with the other flier while Philip stayed behind to send his messages. Soon they were driving the few blocks through the pleasant town to the boardinghouse.

  Nothing was too good for Rannie when the agent’s aunt heard who he was, the lost boy. She prepared a bath and her best towels and set out a luncheon fit for a king, which Rannie ate ravenously after he was arrayed in his own garments.

  “I need ta go to a barber,” he said after he had eaten all he could hold.

  “That’s all right, brother,” said Philip, “but that will keep. We’ve got to hear the whole story and get on our way. We don’t want those birds to get away from us, you know.”

  Rannie looked sober. “I don’t know as you need bother,” he said half anxiously. “The boss, of course, was a tough egg and woulda finished me if he’d had his chance, but the fella called Bud was okay. I wouldn’t like ta see him get time ur anything. He really saved my life.”

  And Rannie told in a few characteristic words of the last few days of his imprisonment. The story of the little book figured vitally in the tale, only Rannie didn’t mention what the book was. He just called it a little red book, said it was great and he hoped he could get one like it someday.

  Philip’s face kindled at the story, and he smiled gravely.

  “Well, Rand,” he said, “we’ll see what we can do for Bud when the time comes, but this thing is connected with one of the most notorious thugs in the country, and we’re bound to get them if we can. Sorry, but I guess you’ve got to come with us for a little while and tell us all you know.”

  So Rannie, in a good warm overcoat and sweater underneath it, was put into an automobile and driven swiftly to a field where rested a splendid plane, into which to his great delight they hurried him. The entire village of Salter was assembled to see them start, and as the great bird lifted itself from the earth, a sober cheer arose from the village throats as the plane moved on into the sky and then quickly away out of sight.

  One thing that Rannie could not understand was that Philip, instead of burning up the old suit that he had worn during captivity, had carefully done it up and sent it parcel post to police headquarters to be used as evidence in the search. And the gun that Rannie had been so proud to own because it had been left by Bud, they took away and wrapped carefully for further examination.

  They sailed away into the blue sky that was so clear and wonderful, and within just a few minutes, it seemed to Rannie, there they were circling over his own mountain and looking directly down upon the roof of the little log cabin where he had been held prisoner for so many long days and nights.

  Rannie’s face was very sober as he looked down, and then he gave a sweeping glance over the wild empty scenery in every direction.

  “Gee! I was pretty far out from everything, wasn’t I?” he said, lifting startled eyes. “No wonder it took me sa long ta get anywhere. However did ya find out where I was?” />
  “We didn’t,” said Phil. “We just followed a clue, and it led us here. God did the rest.”

  Rannie’s face lightened.

  “Yeah, I guess none other!” he said solemnly.

  A look of surprise and joy flashed into Philip’s eyes, but he said nothing more just now. He did not want to spoil that solemn reverence in the boy’s eyes.

  “You see, this has been a former haunt of crime,” said Philip.

  “Oh, yeah?” said Rannie, wondering. “Then how come I found a book like that little red fella hid away in the wall?”

  “That may be another story, too,” mused Philip. “You’ll have to tell me more about the book. Perhaps we’ll get on the track of some other prisoner who needs our help.”

  “It was a great little old book,” said Rannie. “It’s changed me inta a different lad.”

  “That’s great,” said Philip. “But now, we’ll have to get through this and hurry you home to your people. We’re going first to land down in that valley and get up that mountain a little way. We want to identify that cave you spoke of if we can. We’ll maybe find some of your captors there yet. The roads below have been pretty well watched. I don’t quite see how they could have gotten away.”

  Rannie gave a startled look.

  “Got any guns?” he asked. “They’re pretty tough eggs. I don’t know as if two of you—at least, three of us—can handle ’em alone.”

  “We’re not going to,” said Philip. “We’ve got a posse of police down there waiting for us.”

  And sure enough, when they landed, there appeared from out of a sheltered road where they waited in ambush, a carload of policemen and two motorcycles. There was another car for Philip’s party and they put Rannie in, attending him every step as if he were something too precious to trust alone for even a moment, and then the cars began to climb up a winding rough trail. Looking out, Rannie could see far down in the valley again.

  After a climb of an hour or two, they all got out and walked, keeping Rannie well covered in their midst and walking for the most part silently, with careful tread, till all at once they stood in a sheltered bit of pine growth, with great rocks cropping all about and above. Rannie could hear the rushing of the falls, and looking down he saw the deep, dark pool with the cliff just beyond, the cliff where the boss had planned to shove him off to his death.

  Rannie shivered in his warm overcoat and sweater and turned a white face toward Philip.

  “There’s your old cabin up there,” said Philip.

  Rannie looked up and there it was, just showing a corner of the roof and the little high window that had been his. Rannie shuddered again.

  “And right about here, somewhere, ought to be that cave you heard about,” said Philip, studying the rock and moving on around a jutting of the stone. “We sighted a place from above that might have been the opening to a cave. Yes, here it is—why, there’s a big stone in front of it!”

  But the police officers were already rolling the stone out of the way, and revealed an opening wide enough for a man to go in.

  Just inside was a box of provisions, some canned goods, and a loaf of bread, as if hastily thrust in, and beside it lay a man.

  They all stepped back, not expecting to find their quarry so easily, and yet as they stood there they saw he was no longer a living man.

  Rannie, catching sight of a can of tomatoes exactly the counterpart of the one he had carried with him on his flight, stepped nearer to look, and there he saw Bud lying, all in a huddle, his hard face white in death. So that was the shot that Rannie had thought he heard! Then the gun the boss carried had not been noiseless after all!

  Rannie stepped nearer, his young face drawn in horror. So this was the price poor Bud had to pay for saving Rannie! This was more of his ransom. Two men had had to die to save Rannie Kershaw—the God-Man, Christ Jesus, and poor Bud, who had helped to kidnap him but who had refused to shove him off the cliff and had left him his own gun for protection.

  But Bud believed, Rannie was sure, for there in his folded hand lying across his breast was the little red book held tight and one finger in the page at John three sixteen, “For God so loved the world—”

  So the boss had shot Bud and kicked him into the cave before he was even dead, had hastily filled the mouth of the cave with the stone and fled! Rannie stooped over and took the book gently from the stiff cold fingers, as gently as Bud had removed the book from his own limp hand two days ago. The book had done its work. Bud needed it no longer. Rannie would keep it all his life to remind him what had been the price of his ransom.

  Philip hurried him away after that, leaving the policemen to deal with what was left behind and to gather the evidence they had been sent to get.

  All the solemn ride down the mountain, Rannie was growing up. He would never be the same carefree youth again. It seemed to him that he saw from birth to death in a new way and caught a new meaning of what it meant to live on this earth and be ready for the life that was to be, that would never end.

  Later, while they were waiting for the pilot to do some trifling tinkering with his engine before they started homeward, Philip and he had a talk, and he showed Philip the little book.

  “Oh, John’s Gospel,” said Philip, with a light in his eyes. “I love that more than almost any other book in the Bible.”

  “The Bible?” queried Rannie. “Is that a piece of the Bible? I didn’t know the Bible was like that. I’d uv read it before if I had.”

  Then Philip opened his heart to Rannie and they had a few minutes’ sweet conversation, and Rannie told how he had read the book aloud and what Bud had said about believing.

  “I think he meant it,” said Rannie thoughtfully.

  “He surely did,” said Philip, “and he was saved before he died. I’m quite sure from what you tell me that he must have been born again.”

  “Born again,” said Rannie. “That was another thing it told, about the story of Nicodemus. I didn’t quite understand what being born again meant, but it seemed to be connected with believing.”

  “The moment a soul believes on the Lord Jesus as his Savior, he is born again and becomes a child of God.”

  “Oh, boy!” said Rannie dreamily. “That’s great, isn’t it? I wonder why nobody ever told me before.”

  “Perhaps you wouldn’t have listened,” said Philip thoughtfully. “Perhaps God had to let you get kidnapped to be willing to listen to His call.”

  Oh, d’ya think so?” said Rannie, turning a bright face toward Philip. “Then I’m glad. It’s worth it!”

  “Your sister will be glad. She accepted Jesus Christ, too.”

  “Oh, say! Some homecoming! Chrissie saved, too. And what about my dad? I wonder!”

  “Perhaps God will let you help him find the way. Prayer does wonderful things, you know. We can all pray.”

  And just then the mechanic announced that the plane was ready for flight, and Rannie, with a radiant look at his new friend Philip, settled down in his place to fly home with a great wonder upon him. He felt that the former things had passed away and all things had become new.

  Chapter 20

  When the telegrams arrived at Seneca Street, it seemed that the world was almost too full of joy.

  So many telegrams and letters had been arriving that Mr. Kershaw hardly gave much attention to them anymore. He was obsessed with the idea that his boy had been slain and they would never see him again. He had sold everything he had and gathered together all the money he could get or borrow, and it was waiting ready in the bank. The highest sum so far had been demanded, and yet no definite means of getting together with the kidnappers had developed. Only these maddening letters that kept arriving with bits of blue neckties, often of different patterns. Rannie’s father did not believe in any of it anymore. He thought that God, if there was a God, had taken away Rannie in this awful way to punish him for having neglected his own children so long.

  So when Christobel brought him the telegrams, he lay back in
his chair and only said, “What’s the use? You open them.”

  Christobel opened Philip’s first, as it happened, and could hardly believe her senses.

  “Oh, Father!” she exclaimed in a tone of gladness that called Maggie from the kitchen. “Read it! ‘Rannie found, alive and well. Home soon! Philip.’ ”

  “What?” said Mr. Kershaw sitting up sharply. “Philip said that? Oh, my God! It is too good to be true.”

  “Here’s another one, Father,” said Christobel, so excited that she could hardly open the envelope. “Oh, Father dear! It’s from Rannie himself. Just listen!”

  “ ‘Dear Dad, don’t pay a cent of ransom to anybody. Jesus Christ has ransomed me and I’m out and free. Don’t worry. I’ll hitchhike home as soon as I can earn a new suit. Rannie.’ ”

  She had to read it over twice to the bewildered father before he could take it all in, and then he asked, still puzzled, “What does that mean? You don’t think he’s lost his mind, do you, Chrissie?” The father looked at her piteously, his eyes so weary, his mind almost crazed by the strain he had been through.

  “Oh no, Father! He’s found it,” said Christobel. “Why, Father, he’s somehow found God, wherever he’s been. He means he’s been saved by Jesus Christ, and there isn’t any ransom to pay, likely because God in some wonderful way got him out away from those people without their having anything to do with it. Oh, Father, isn’t it just too wonderful?”

  Then such a baking and brewing as Maggie carried on in the kitchen, her cheeks blazing with joy, her blue eyes dripping happy tears all day.

  But Rannie’s father wouldn’t even wait for lunch. He had things to do quickly, and he hurried out, saying he would telephone every few minutes to see if there was further word. And a little while later there did come another telegram from Philip, saying when they would likely arrive at the airstrip, and Christobel relayed it to her father.

  He came back to the house presently with a shining new car, one of the latest models, and took Christobel down to the airstrip. Maggie refused to go. She said it wasn’t fitting, and anyway, she had to stay and have the dinner hot. But she watched them drive away with pride in her eyes. Rannie was coming back again. That was enough for Maggie.