Steve and the Steam Engine

by Sara Ware Bassett

  CHAPTER XVIII

  A THANKSGIVING TRAGEDY

  Perhaps had Stephen known what was in store for him on the morrow hemight not have slept so soundly. As it was, he and Dick had to be calledthree times before they opened their eyes on the Thanksgiving sunshine.A heavy frost had fallen during the night, touching the trees withsplendor and transforming the brown earth to a jewelled sweep of gemsthat flashed like brilliants in the golden light. The boys scrambledinto their clothes and, ruddy from a cold shower, descended to thedining room where amid the fragrance of steaming coffee the family werejust sitting down to breakfast.

  "Well, what is up for to-day, boys?" inquired Mrs. Tolman, after themore formal greetings were over. "What are you planning to do with Dick,Stephen?"

  "We're going skating over to the Hollow if the ice is any good," was theprompt response. "It was fine yesterday and unless somebody has smashedit all up it ought to be good to-day."

  "That plan sounds rather nice, doesn't it, Jane?" Doris suggested to herroommate. "Why don't we go, too?"

  "I'd like nothing better," was the answer.

  "The youngsters have sketched a very alluring program," Mr. Ackermansaid. "If I had any skates I should be tempted to join them. I have notbeen on the ice in years but in my day I used to be quite a hockeyplayer."

  "Oh, do come, Mr. Ackerman!" cried Steve eagerly. "If you used to skateit will all come back to you. It is like swimming, you know; once youhave learned you never forget how."

  "But I've nothing to skate with," laughed the New Yorker.

  "Oh, we can fix you up with skates all right, if you really want to go,"Mr. Tolman said. "I have a couple of pairs and am sure you could manageto use one of them."

  "So you are a skater, are you, Tolman?" the capitalist observed, withsurprise.

  "Oh, I am nothing great," Mr. Tolman protested, "but I have alwaysenjoyed sports and muddled along at them. Coventry is quite a distancefrom Broadway, you see, and therefore we must get our recreation inother ways."

  "It is a darn sight better than anything New York has to offer,"commented the other man soberly. "Good wholesome out-of-door exercise isnot to be mentioned in the same breath with a hot theater where apicture show is a makeshift for something better. Give me fresh air andexercise every time!"

  "Well, since that is the way you feel about it we can comply with yourrequest," Mr. Tolman rejoined, with a smile. "If you do not mindhobbling back to New York lame as a cart-horse you can certainly haveyour wish, for we have the ice, the skates, plenty of coats andsweaters--everything necessary. Suppose we all start for the Hollow atten o'clock. It is a mile walk but as we are having a late dinner weshall still have a long morning."

  "That will suit me all right," returned Mr. Ackerman.

  "By the way, Henry," interrupted Mrs. Tolman, addressing her husband,"Havens is waiting to see you. He has some message for you."

  "Where is he?"

  "In the hall."

  "Ask Mary to tell him to go into my den. I'll be there in a minute."

  What a merry party it was that chatted and laughed there in the warmthof the sunny dining room! For the time being the elders dropped theircares and became as young in spirit as the boys and girls. Jokes,stories and good-humored banter passed back and forth until with oneaccord everybody rose from the table and sauntered into the librarywhere a great blaze of logs glowed and crackled.

  "If you will excuse me I will see what Havens wants," remarked Mr.Tolman, as he lighted his cigar. "Probably the garage people haveunearthed some more repairs that must be made on that car. They seem tohave a faculty for that sort of thing. Every day they discover somethingnew the matter with it. I shall have a nice little bill by the time theyfinish."

  Shrugging his shoulders, he passed into the hall. It was more than halfan hour before he returned and when he did a close observer would havenoticed that his face had lost its brightness and that the gaiety withwhich he took up the conversation with his guests was forced andunnatural. However, he tried resolutely to banish his irritation,whatever its cause. He went up to the attic with Mr. Ackerman, where thetwo searched out skates, woolen gloves and sweaters; he jested withDoris and Jane Harden; he challenged Dick to a race across the frozenground. But beneath his lightness lingered a grave depression whichbetokened to those who knew him best that something was wrong. Yet hewas evidently determined the cloud should not obtrude itself and spoilthe happiness of the day. Probably some business annoyance that couldnot be remedied had arisen; or possibly Havens had given notice. Suchcontingencies were of course to be deplored but as they could not behelped, why let them ruin the entire holiday?

  Therefore nobody heeded Mr. Tolman's mood which was so well controlledthat his guests were unconscious of it, and the group of skaters swungalong over the frosty fields with undiminished merriment. The Hollow forwhich they were bound lay in a deserted stone quarry where a little armof the river had penetrated the barrier of rocks and, gradually floodingthe place, made at one end a deep pool; from this point the water spreaditself over the meadows in a large, shallow pond. Had the spot beennearer the town it would doubtless have been overrun with skaters; butas it was isolated, and there was a larger lake near the center of thevillage, few persons took the trouble to seek out this remote stretch ofice.

  This morning it lay desolate like a gleaming mirror, not a human beingmarring its solitude.

  "We shall have the place all to ourselves!" exclaimed Mr. Ackerman."There will be no spectators to watch me renew my youth, thankgoodness!"

  Quickly the skates were strapped on and the young people shot out intothe sunshine and began to circle about. More cautiously Mr. Tolman andhis guest followed.

  "I wouldn't go into the quarry," shouted Mr. Tolman, "for I doubt if ithas been cold enough yet to freeze the ice very solidly there. There areliable to be air holes where the river makes in."

  "Oh, we fellows have skated in the quarry millions of times, Dad,"Stephen protested. "It is perfectly safe."

  "There is no way of telling whether it is or not," was the response, "sosuppose for to-day we keep away from it."

  "But--"

  "Oh, don't argue, Stevie," called Doris. "If Dad doesn't want us to gothere that's enough, isn't it?"

  "But half the fun is making that turn around the rocks," grumbledStephen, in a lower tone. "I don't see why Dad is such a fraid-cat. Iknow this pond better than he does and--"

  "If your father says not to skate there that ought to go with you," cutin Dick. "He doesn't want you to--see? Whether it is safe or not hasnothing to do with it."

  "But it's so silly!" went on Stephen. "Why--"

  "Oh, cut it out! Can it!" ejaculated the East Side lad. "Your dad says_No_ and he's the boss."

  The ungracious retort Steve offered was lost amid the babel of laughterthat followed, and the skaters darted away up the pond. Indeed, onecould not long have cherished ill humor amid such radiant surroundings.There was too much sunshine, too much sparkle in the clear air; too muchjollity and happiness. Almost before he realized it Stephen's irritationhad vanished and he was speeding across the glassy surface of the ice asgay as the gayest of the company.

  He never could explain afterward just how it happened that he foundhimself around the bend of the quarry and sweeping with the wind towardits farther end. He had not actually formulated the intention ofslipping away from the others and invading this forbidden spot.Nevertheless, there he was alone in the tiny cove with no one in sight.What followed was all over in a moment,--the breaking ice and theplunge into the frigid water. The next he knew he was fighting with allhis strength to prevent himself from being drawn beneath the jagged,crumbling edge of the hole. To clamber out was impossible, for everytime he tried the thin ice would break afresh under his hands andsubmerge him again in the bitter cold of the moving stream. Over andover he tried to pull himself to safety but without success. Thensuddenly he felt himself becoming numb and helpless. His teeth chatteredand he could no longer retain his hold on the frail support
that waskeeping his head above water. He was slipping back into the river. _Hewas not going to be able to get out!_

  With a piercing scream he made one last desperate lunge forward, andagain the ice that held him broke and the water dashed over his ears andmouth.

  When he next opened his eyes it was to find himself in his own bed witha confusion of faces bending over him.

  "There!" he heard some one say in a very small, far-away voice. "He iscoming to himself now, thank God! It was chiefly cold and fright. He issafe now, Tolman. Don't you worry! You'd better go and get off some ofyour wet clothing, or you will catch your death."

  Mr. Ackerman was speaking.

  "Yes, Henry, do go!" pleaded his wife.

  He was fighting to prevent himself from being drawnbeneath the jagged, crumbling edge of the hole. Page 244.]

  As Stephen looked about him in the vague, groping uncertainty ofreturning consciousness his glance fell upon his father who stood besidehis pillow, shivering nervously. He put out his hand and touched thedripping coat sleeve.

  "What--" began he weakly.

  Then with a rush it all came back to him and everything was clear. Hehad been drowning and his father had plunged into the water to save him!

  A sob rose in his throat and he caught the elder man's hand between bothof his.

  "Oh, Dad," he exclaimed, "I've been so rotten to you--so mean--socowardly. I'm ashamed to--"

  "Don't talk about it now, son. I know."

  "You know what I did?"

  "Yes."

  "But--" the boy paused bewildered.

  "Don't talk any more about it now, Stevie," pleaded his mother.

  "But I've got to know," said the lad. "Can't you see that--"

  "Let me talk with him alone a moment," suggested Mr. Tolman in anundertone. "He is all upset and he won't calm down until he has thisthing off his mind. Leave me here with him a little while. I'll promisethat he does not tire himself."

  The doctor, Mr. Ackerman and Mrs. Tolman moved across the room towardthe window.

  "You asked how I knew, son," began his father with extreme gentleness."I didn't really know. I just put two and two together. There was thescratched machine and the gasoline gone--both of which facts puzzled menot a little. But the proof that clinched it all and made me certain ofwhat had happened came to me this morning when Havens brought me an oldred sweater and some school papers of Bud Taylor's that the men who wereoverhauling the car found under the seat. In an instant the whole thingwas solved."

  "You knew before we went skating then?"

  "Yes."

  "And--and--you jumped into the water after me just the same."

  Mr. Tolman's voice trembled:

  "You are my son and I love you no matter what you may do."

  "Oh, Dad, I'm so sorry!" sobbed the boy. "I wanted to tell you--I meantto. It was just that I was too much of a coward. I was so ashamed ofwhat I had done that I hadn't the nerve. After it was over it all seemedso wrong. I knew you would be angry--"

  "Rather say _sorry_, son."

  "Well, sorry. And now that you have been so white to me I'm more ashamedstill."

  "There, there, my boy, we will say no more about it," his fatherdeclared. "You and your conscience have probably had a pretty bitterbattle and I judge you have not been altogether happy since youradventure. People who do wrong never are. It is no fun to carry yourfault to bed with you and find it waiting when you wake up in themorning."

  "You bet it isn't!" replied the lad, with fervor. "But can't I dosomething now to make good, Dad?"

  Mr. Tolman checked an impulsive protest and after a moment respondedgravely:

  "We will see. Perhaps you would like to earn something toward doing overthe car."

  "Yes! Yes! I would!"

  "Well, all that can be arranged later. We--"

  "Henry," broke in Mrs. Tolman, "you must go this instant and get intosome dry clothes. You are chilled through. The doctor says Stephen isgoing to be none the worse for his ducking and that he can come downstairs to dinner after he has rested a little longer. So ourThanksgiving party is not to be spoiled, after all. In fact, I believewe shall have more to give thanks for than we expected," concluded she,making an unsteady attempt to speak lightly.

  "I think so, too," echoed her husband.

  "And so do I!" added Stephen softly, as he exchanged an affectionatesmile with his father.