by Morgan Scott
CHAPTER XVI.
INDEPENDENT ROD.
Despite those final words, the boy from Texas had spoken quietly andwithout giving the impression that he was boasting; indeed, it seemedas if this much had escaped his lips through a sudden impulse, which henow more than half regretted.
“I could tell you something more, Ben,” he said; “but they are things Ido not care to talk about, and I’ve said enough already—too much,perhaps.”
“Not too much,” protested the visitor hastily. “For I fancy that Imyself am beginning to understand you better than I did. If the fellowsknew——”
“I don’t want them to know. Don’t forget I’ve trusted you thus far instrict confidence. I could give you reasons why I don’t play footballand why I hold in abhorrence the usual practice of hazing at school orcollege; but, as I just remarked, I don’t care to talk about thosethings. I’ve been sent here to attend school, and I reckon I’ll do sofor all of the narrow-minded, misguided peanut-heads in Oakdale.”
“That’s right,” encouraged Ben. “Sometime they’ll find out theirmistake.”
“It certainly is a matter of indifference to me whether they do ornot,” laughed Rod. “I’m some independent in my ways.”
“But there are some things no fellow can afford to do,” said Ben. “NowI didn’t come here to knock anybody, but I think there are certainfacts you ought to know about those chaps you were with last night. Iwant you to understand I haven’t any grudge against Davis, even thoughhe was concerned in a mean and despicable plot to make me out a cheapsneak thief—a plot which, fortunately for me, fell through. Spottyreally wasn’t nearly so much to blame as the chap who put him up to it,an old and bitter enemy of mine who is no longer attending school atOakdale. I think Davis is easily influenced, but his naturalinclinations seem to be crooked.”
Grant was listening seriously enough now, and Stone continued:
“Even Lander may have a streak of decency in him, but he’s always beenthe black sheep among the boys of Oakdale, and anyone who chooses himfor a friend is almost certain to be estimated by the company he keeps.To-day some of the fellows, skating up at Bass Cove, found there on theshore a bottle containing a little frozen hard cider. Now they’resaying you fellows were boozy last night, and that’s why you skated outonto the dangerous ice and broke through.”
“So that’s what they’re saying!” cried Rod hotly. “It’s a lie, as faras I’m concerned.”
The visitor nodded his head in satisfaction. “I’m glad to hear you saythat, and I believe it. I’ve already expressed my belief that it wasn’ttrue; now I shall tell them I know it wasn’t.”
“Lots of good that will do!” scoffed Rod. “Don’t put yourself out to doit, Ben; let the chumps think what they like.”
“But—but,” faltered Ben, “no fellow can afford to have such liescirculated about him.”
“Second-hand contradiction of a lie seldom stops its progress.”
“Why don’t you deny it?”
“Bah! Would you have me pike around after those fellows who have givenme the cold shoulder and meachingly protest that I wasn’t boozy lastnight? Why, that would rejoice certain members of the bunch who, I’msure, have taken prime joy in spreading the yarn.”
“You know, some fellows think you peached to the professor about thathazing business, and you haven’t denied it.”
“If I started in denying the lies cooked up about me, it’s plain I’d bekept plenty busy. By and by they may get tired of it and let up.”
“Perhaps you’ve never heard just why Lander happened to leave town sosuddenly two years ago?”
“No.”
“Shortly before he got out, a series of petty robberies were committedin Oakdale, rousing the people here to a state of apprehension andindignation. The worst of these was the breaking into Stickney’s storeone night and the pilfering of a whole lot of provisions, tinware,cutlery, and a gun. A day or two later Bunk Lander was caught in an oldcamp he had built out in the swamp back of Turkey Hill, and in thatcamp they found the stolen goods. They were going to send him to thereform school, but he was not taken into immediate custody, and ere hecould be sent away he disappeared. His father, who is a poor,hard-working man, sent him off somewhere. Since then Mr. Lander hassettled with the people who were plundered, fixing it up some way sothat Bunk has ventured to return. I thought you ought to know all this,Rod.”
Grant rose, walking to the door and back. Standing beside the table, helooked at Ben.
“Right serious business,” he admitted. “But possibly Bunk didn’trealize just how serious it was. When I first came to Oakdale I heardsome fellows who aren’t reckoned to be particularly bad chaps jokingwith one another about robbing orchards and plundering somebody’s grapearbors. I wonder if they realized that they were thieves.”
“Oh, but that’s different—in a way,” Ben hastily said.
“In a degree, perhaps,” nodded Grant. “But it was theft, just the same.Those fellows were right proud of it, too.”
“Most fellows consider hooking apples or plundering grape vines aspermissible sport.”
“Oh, yes, I know that. And to Bunk Lander’s undeveloped sense of rightand wrong, stealing provisions and other stuffs he desired to furnishhis camp, may have seemed like permissible sport. I doubt not that thefathers of some of these very fellows who plundered orchards and grapearbors were plenty rank and severe against Lander when he was caught,yet in a degree their own sons were no better than Bunk.”
Stone found himself somewhat staggered by the force of this argument.
“I’m not saying that even Bunk is irreclaimable,” he hastened to state.“But it seems to me that under the circumstances you can’t afford tolet yourself be classed with him.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me any if Lander had as much honor in his makeupas Hunk Rollins, or even Berlin Barker; yet those fellows are acceptedas the associates of the most respectable chaps in Oakdale. Stone, oldman, last night Rollins left me hanging precariously to the edge of thebroken ice while he skated off, yelling to his friends. On the otherhand, Bunk Lander took a chance and pulled me out. He saved my life,Ben, for I wasn’t able to get out alone, with the current dragging atme the way it did. If anybody reckons that a Grant is going to forget athing of that sort, he’s making a mighty big mistake.”
“Which means, I suppose,” said Ben, rising, “that you propose to stickby Lander?”
“Which means that I propose to treat him white and do him a decent turnif I ever get the chance. Everybody around here has thrown him down onhis past record, and that’s the best way to send a fellow who has madea mistake straight to the dogs. We all make mistakes, and when we do weneed somebody to encourage us, not to kick us. No, Stone, I shan’t goback on Lander.”
“Well?” cried Ben suddenly, “although I haven’t succeeded in the objectof my visit, I want to say that I rather admire you for your stand, andhere’s my hand on it.”
“Thanks,” laughed Rod Grant, as they shook hands.
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