by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XXI.
A SURPRISING MEETING.
The game was over; after the third touchdown by Oakdale it had notlasted long enough for Clearport to recover and accomplish anything.The visitors had won, and they were being congratulated by theiroverjoyed admirers. Hayden was applauded, and his hand was shaken untilhe repulsed the exuberant crowd that surged around him. Stone likewisecame in for his share of applause and praise, and, although his heartwas happy, his unfortunate manner might have led many to fancy himstolid and almost sullen. Nevertheless, when, with a hand on Ben’sshoulder, Winton told him that he was the man who had saved the day andwon the game, he smiled a little, and there was a blurring mist in hiseyes.
Roger Eliot, his face lighted by that rare smile of his, praised themall.
“I see my father is here with his touring car,” he said. “I wish thecar were large enough to take you all back to Oakdale, boys; but itisn’t, and so by the way of company I’ll take one of you. Come on,Stone, old chap.”
Ben flushed, surprised because he had been singled out.
“He’s the feller,” cried Chipper Cooper generously—“he’s the feller totake, Roger. Give him a good ride; he deserves it.”
Hayden said nothing; he had not expected to be invited, yet he wasangered because Roger had selected Stone.
The boys had left their regular clothes in a room at the hotel, and tothis they repaired to shed the dirty, sweat-stained garments of thegame. Stone took no part in their light-hearted chatter; when theycongratulated him, he simply said he had tried to do his best. Finally,bearing his bundle of football togs, he descended with Roger and foundMr. Eliot’s car waiting at the door. Little Amy was in the car with herfather, who sat beside the driver. The child laughed and clapped herhands as her brother and Ben appeared.
“I’m going to ride on the back seat between you,” she called.
Mr. Eliot beamed on the boys. “You pulled out of that game pretty well,Roger,” he said. “I saw only the last of it, for I couldn’t get heresooner. I thought you were done for, son, but Ben saved you with thatgreat run. That was really what won the game, as it gave you a chanceto make the touchdown you needed.”
Roger’s father had called Ben by his Christian name, and Stone felt hisheart swell. Seated in the tonneau of the automobile with Amy besidehim, he was borne out of Clearport and away over the brown, windingroad that led to Oakdale. Often he had longed to ride in an automobileand wondered if he would ever have the privilege. The sensation ofgliding softly along as he lay back against the tufted leather cushionsbrought him a feeling of great satisfaction and peace. The sun, peepingredly over the western rim of the world, smiled upon him, and nowherein all the sky was there a cloud, even as large as a man’s hand.
Amy talked gaily; she told how excited she had been as she watched Benrunning with the ball, and, although she did not understand the game,she knew he had done a splendid thing.
“It would have been a frightful calamity for us if you had been knockedout at the finish of the first half, Ben,” said Roger. “I was afraid ofit, and we never could have won that game without you.”
Stone recalled his suspicions, and a shadow fell athwart his face, buthis lips remained silent. If Hayden had really perpetrated that foultrick, he had failed in his purpose, and Ben, triumphant, had no desireto speak of it.
A soft, tingling, cold twilight came on with the setting of the sun. Attheir bases the distant hills were veiled in a filmy haze of blue. Theengine beneath the hood of the car purred softly as it bore them overthe road with the power of fifty horses. As, with a mellow warning noteof the horn, they swept around a gentle curve, they came upon a small,dusty human figure trudging slowly in the direction they weretraveling. It was a boy, ahead of whom trotted a little yellow dog,held by a line attached to its collar. Over the back of the little lada violin was swung by supporting strings.
The dog turned aside, pulling at the line, and the boy followed him, asif led and guided in this manner.
Ben Stone uttered a sudden shout. “Stop,” he cried wildly—“stopquickly! Please stop!”
“Stop, Sullivan,” commanded Mr. Eliot; and the chauffeur responded bybringing the car to a standstill as soon as possible. Even before thewheels ceased to revolve Stone had vaulted over the side door of thetonneau and was running back toward the boy they had passed. “Jerry!”he called. “Jerry! Jerry!”
The little yellow dog barked at him, but, paying no heed to the animal,Ben swooped down on the lad who held the line and scooped him up in hisarms.
“Who is it, Roger?” asked Urian Eliot in surprise.
“Jerry,” said Roger—“he called him Jerry. Why, father, it must be Ben’sown brother.”
“His brother? Why, I didn’t know——”
“He told me about his brother,” explained Roger. “They were separatedafter Ben’s parents died. Jerry is blind.”
“Oh!” murmured Amy. “Isn’t that just dreadful! Blind and walking allalone with only a dog for company! We must take him in the car, papa.”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Eliot, opening the door and stepping out. “Thisis a most remarkable occurrence.”
In the meantime, Ben and Jerry—for it was indeed Ben’s unfortunateyounger brother—were transported by the joy and surprise of theunexpected meeting. They clung to each other, laughing, crying andtalking brokenly and incoherently. The little dog, who had at firstseemed to fear some harm threatened its master, frisked back and forthbefore them, barking frantically, finally sitting up on its hauncheswith its forward paws drooping, its mouth open and its protrudingtongue quivering; for at last it appeared to comprehend that there wasreally no danger, and this affair was one over which even a smallyellow dog should laugh and be happy.
Roger had left the automobile likewise, and he came back to them,waiting near at hand until they should recover from the distractingexcitement of the moment.
“Oh, Jerry!” choked Ben. “To find you here—I don’t understand it,Jerry.”
“I’ll tell you all about it, Ben, as soon as I can. I’ve been searchingfor you everywhere, but I was afraid I’d never, never find you.”
“Stone,” said Roger, “take him into the car.”
Jerry shrank against his older brother. “Who—who is it, Ben?” hewhispered.
“A friend—the best friend—besides you, Jerry—that I’ve ever known.We’ve been playing football, and we’re going back to Oakdale now—goingback in a big, fine automobile. This is Roger Eliot, Jerry.”
Roger stepped forward and took one of the little lad’s soiled hands.“I’m very glad to meet Ben’s brother,” he declared with such sinceritythat Jerry’s alarm was instantly dispelled and his sympathy won. “Myfather’s auto is waiting, and there’s room to spare.”
“You never rode in an automobile, Jerry,” said Ben. “It’s corking.”
Through the dusk Roger saw the smaller lad’s sightless eyes turned uponhim.
“But—but my little dog, Pilot?” said Jerry questioningly. “I must takehim. I know he’s tired, the same as I am, and I wouldn’t leave himfor——”
“Certainly we’ll take him,” assured Roger. “Come on.”
To the sightless wayfarer it was a marvel beyond words, almost beyondcomprehension. He heard them speak of Roger’s father and felt thereassuring touch of Urian Eliot’s strong but gentle hands, while thevoice of the man sounded in his ears. He was lifted into the tonneau ofthe car, the dog whining nervously at the end of the line until biddenfollow, upon which, with a single sharp yap of thankfulness, he sprangup. He heard also the voice of a child, who spoke softly and seemedglad to welcome him. It was not strange that his head swam with thewonderment of it.
While waiting, the chauffeur had lighted the gas lamps of the car, and,with the machine again under way, they blazed a golden path through thedeepening autumn darkness. The sharp, cold air whipped Jerry’s cheeks,but the strong arm of the brother he loved was ab
out him, and his heartbeat with happiness so intense that it was like a keen, sweet pain.
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