The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey written by Donald Ferguson

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The boy was a fine little chap. Hugh had already come to feel a deep
interest in him, and had played for an hour with Joey.

"Why not take him out with you, Hugh, if, as you say, you're going
for a walk?" asked his mother.

"I'd like to," the boy said, "if you thought he could stand going
such a distance as out to the Cross-roads; for I meant to drop in on
Deacon Winslow. He asked me to come and see him, and perhaps stay to
supper in the bargain, for he wants to have a good chat with me.
And, Mother, I've been meaning to get to know that fine old man
better; there's something about him that draws me. He's got such
healthy ideas about everything, and is an entertaining talker when it
comes to the habits of animals, and the secrets of all animated
nature."

"Well, I'm sure little Joey would enjoy the walk. He seems fond of
being outdoors, and has been shut up here since you brought him home.
And if Deacon Winslow urges you both to take supper with him, there's
no reason why you should decline. He may fetch you home in his
sleigh, if the child seems tired, and sleepy."

Hugh decided he would do as his mother suggested.

"Would you like to take a nice long walk out in the country with me,
Joey?" he asked the little fellow, who had been hovering near by, and
listening to all that was being said.

"I like to walk," the small chap replied quickly; "but not all day,
like mom and me did. Mebbe she'll be awake when we come back, Hugh?"

Each time he had been allowed in the room to see his mother was when
she happened to be in a deep sleep, and her ravings had ceased; so it
was natural for Joey to conclude she was only making up for lack of
rest.

So, shortly afterwards, the two started forth, the little fellow with
his hand in that of Hugh. He had come to feel the utmost confidence
in this big boy who, in the time of their distress, had fetched
himself and his poor fainting mother to the nice warm house, where
they seemed to have the nicest things to eat he could ever remember
of seeing.

Hugh kept an eye about him, half hoping he might run across Thad,
although the other had not expected to return before dusk. No such
luck befell him, and so Hugh concluded he must carry out his original
scheme, and have only the child for company during his stroll.

Of course, they could not walk at a fast pace, and so it took quite a
long time for them to draw near the place where the two roads
crossed. Here, at a point where there was much traffic in vehicles,
the smithy of the old deacon stood. Time was when he attended only
to the shoeing of horses, and such other business as a blacksmith
would find in his line. The coming of the auto had made him change
his work to some extent; so he kept a line of rubber tires and tubes
in his shop, and was capable of doing all ordinary repairing, such as
might be found necessary after a minor accident to a car on the road.

It was pleasant, indeed, when the wintry air was so keen, to step up
to the open doors of the shop, and see that seething fire in the
forge beyond the grim anvil. Mr. Winslow stood there, with his
leather apron on, and his woollen sleeves rolled up to his elbows,
showing his brawny arms with their muscles of steel. He was working
the bellows and singing softly to himself, after a habit he had when
alone.

Apparently, he had let his helper off earlier than customary that
afternoon, for the deacon was not a hard employer, and ready to grant
favors when business was not rushing.

Hugh stood there and took in the striking picture, with the glowing
fire in the forge, that fine, big figure of the old blacksmith
standing there. The rosy light played on his strong features as he
crooned his song, his thoughts possibly away back in the past, as is
the habit of those who near the end of their life span.

Just then little Joey sneezed. The low song of the deacon came to an
abrupt end, as he turned his head and discovered the two figures in
the open doorway.

He recognized Hugh immediately, and a look of genuine pleasure
flashed across his face.

"Is that you, Hugh?" he called out, stopping work with the bellows;
"and have you come out to take a bite with the old lady and myself?
I'm certainly glad to see you, lad. And who might this fine little
chap be?"

It was only natural that a man who loved all boys, little and big, as
Deacon Winslow did, should drop down on one knee and take Joey in his
arms. When he looked into the little fellow's winsome face he seemed
strangely moved. But then in these later days it was always so with
the old man; never a child did he see but that long-hidden memories
flowed again, and once more he seemed to be looking on his own boy,
gone ages and ages ago.

"He and his mother are stopping at our house," said Hugh, meaning to
tell how he had come to find them in their extremity, later on, when
possibly the child was not present to hear what he said.

"I've just got a small amount of work to finish, and then I'm done
for the week," said the brawny smith, as he arose again, winking very
fast, it seemed to Hugh, for some reason or other. "Here's a bench
you can both sit on, and watch the sparks fly from the anvil when I
get my hammer busy. Likely the lad has never seen the same before,
and it is always deeply interesting to children, I've found."

So they made themselves comfortable. Little Joey was a bit tired
after his long walk, and leaned confidingly up against Hugh, who had
thrown an arm about him.

The smiting of the red bar with the hammer caused a shower of sparks
to fly in every direction. It was fairly fascinating, and Joey
stared with all his might. Even Hugh always enjoyed seeing a
blacksmith at work, and hearing the sweet-toned ring of steel smiting
steel.

Now and again as he worked, Deacon Winslow would ask some question.
He was acquainted with the fact that the boys of Scranton High had
expected to play a hockey match that morning with the Keyport team,
and as no one had thus far told him how the game came out, he asked
Hugh about it.

From this subject the talk drifted to others, always being of a
somewhat sporadic nature, caused by the smith's starting work again,
after heating his iron bar sufficiently in the fire.

"I'll have the night free, for a wonder," he told Hugh, with a sigh
of pleasure. "I try as best I can to avoid working late on Saturday,
because I want to be as fresh as possible Sundays, which are always
full days for me. So when Nick wanted to come out Saturdays, I
induced him to change it to an earlier night instead. By the way,
how is the lad coming, on these days with his new resolutions?"

Accordingly, Hugh started in to tell him how Nick was doing finely,
and even repeated a part of the little talk he and the other had had
that morning, while on the way to town from the park.

Mr. Winslow listened intently, as he worked the bellows.

"I'm very much interested in the outcome of your experiment, Hugh,"
he said. "It was a clever idea on your part; and now that Nick has
made a start I do believe he'll see it through. I always thought he
had it in him to work out his own salvation, if ever he got a fair
chance. That opportunity has now dawned, and he's on the right road,
Hugh; he's on the right road."

"I agree with you there, sir," said the boy. "The very stubborn
spirit that used to get him into so much trouble is now going to be
his redemption, since he's got it harnessed up to the right sort of
vehicle. The more they try to shove Nick off the track the harder
he'll be apt to stick."

"It was the luckiest thing that ever happened for him," continued the
deacon, "when you hatched up that wonderful plan on the spur of the
moment, and tried it out on him. But for that, Hugh, he'd now be
locked up with his former mates, and headed for the Reform School at
full speed. As it is, he is free to walk the streets, and already
beginning to win the confidence of many good people in the town."

Ten minutes afterwards and the brawny smith threw his hammer aside,
and commenced to undo the thongs that fastened his leathern apron
about his loins.

"I've finished my stint, lad," he said; "and now we can go into the
house, where you'll meet my better-half. I've told her so much about
you, she is eager to make your acquaintance. As for this fine, manly
little chap here, who seems to spring straight into my heart the more
I look at him, as if he belonged there, she'll be half-tickled to
death at the chance to cuddle him in her motherly arms. Alas! lad,
it's been many a long, weary year since she had the privilege of
loving a child of her own. Sometimes when I see her sitting there,
so quiet like, and looking into the wonderfully brilliant sunset
skies, I seem to know what she is thinking about, and I feel for her.
It's harder on a mother, than anyone else, to lose her child as we
did our poor, reckless boy."

Hugh felt a queer sensation in the region of his heart when he heard
the big man speak so mournfully. He realized then as never before
how the heart of a parent can never fully recover from a cruel shock,
such as the loss of one who as a little child had come, it was hoped,
as a ray of sunlight in the lives of those who loved him.

The home of the smith adjoined his shop. There was, in fact, a door
that connected them, and through this Deacon Winslow now led his
thrice welcome guests. Presently they found themselves in what
seemed to be a cozy little sitting-room, where a wood-fire blazed
cheerily on the hearth.

Seated in one of those invalid wheel-chairs, which can be so easily
manipulated by the occupant, after becoming expert at the job, was a
most benign-looking and motherly old lady, with snow-white hair, and
a face that was one of the sweetest and most patient Hugh had ever
gazed upon.

He knew instantly that he was going to like Mrs. Winslow just as much
as he did her big husband. All the good things he had heard about
her benevolence must then be true, he concluded, as he looked on her
smiling face.

"Mother, here's my friend, Hugh Morgan, come out to take supper with
us, as I told you he'd half-promised to do," said the deacon, in his
breezy fashion. "And see, he has fetched a little chap along with
him who'll warm your heart as nothing else could do. This is Joey
Walters, who, with his mother, is stopping at the Morgan home. Hugh
didn't say whether they were any relatives of his or not; but this is
a mighty winsome morsel, Mother, for you to hug."

He thereupon lifted the child up in his strong hands and placed him
in the lap of the old lady. Hugh noticed that she started, and
stared hard at the chubby face of little Joey, just as the deacon had
done; and then she turned her wondering eyes toward her husband.
There was a look akin to awe in their depths, something that told how
the sight of the child took her instantly back years and years to
those never-to-be-forgotten days when just such a lovely little
cherub had come to bless their home.

Then the old lady gave a long sigh.

"Oh, Joel!" she said, in a trembling voice, "how the sight of him
startled me. I can shut my eyes, and think time has taken me back to
our first year of wedded life. Yes, I am overjoyed at making the
acquaintance of such a robust little fellow. And, Hugh, forgive me
for not speaking to you before. I have heard much about you, and am
pleased to know you. But, above all things, let me thank you for
bringing this child out here to open the hearts of two lonely old
people who live only in the past as their sun goes down toward the
darkness of the night."

"I'll run along now, and take my regular bath after my work," said
Deacon Winslow, trying to speak cheerily, though Hugh knew very well
he had been more or less affected by what his wife had just said.

Left alone with the old lady, while the servant bustled in and out,
laying the cloth, and setting the table, Hugh commenced an
interesting conversation. She asked him a multitude of questions
covering all sorts of subjects, even to that of athletic sports.

"You see, the Deacon is fond of boys to an extent that it has become
his one hobby," she explained, in order to let Hugh know why she felt
an interest in such matters. "He spends all his spare time doing
things to make growing lads happier, and more contented in their
homes. People will never know one-tenth of what he's done to save
boys who were going the pace. His latest protege in that line you
happen to know, a hulking fellow named Nick Lang, who, I understand,
has been the terror of Scranton for years. I've met him, and must
say I have my doubts whether he can ever be tamed, and molded into a
respectable member of society; but Joel seems to believe no boy is so
bad but what he has a soft streak in him _somewhere_, if only you can
find it."

"Well, since he hasn't told you about the inspiration that came to
me," Hugh felt constrained to say, though averse to speaking of his
own successes, "I want to say that right now Nick Lang is on the road
to making good."

"Please tell me all about it then, Hugh?" she urged him.

Accordingly, Hugh started to relate the story from the very
beginning; and he had a deeply interested auditor; for Mrs. Winslow
sat there in her wheel-chair, with little Joey cuddled in her arms,
and one of his soft, chubby hands patting her face.

CHAPTER XVI

AT THE DEACON'S FIRESIDE

"Hugh, I do believe you will succeed in your undertaking, and that
Nick Lang is already firmly planted on the right path!" exclaimed the
old lady, with considerable warmth, when the story had been brought
up to date, bringing in an account of Hugh's most recent talk with
the former terror of the town.

"It looks encouraging, anyhow," he merely replied; though, of course;
he felt a flush of boyish pride at the warm look she gave him when
saying what she did.

"My husband has worked with many an erring lad," she continued
reminiscently; "sometimes with fair success, but only too often
without, apparently, winning him away from his bad companions. But
your idea was most unique. To think it all came of your reading
Hugo's masterpiece, and taking it to heart. But here comes Joel; and
we can soon be seated at the supper table."

The more Hugh saw of this remarkably genial old couple the closer did
he seem to be drawn to Deacon Winslow and his crippled wife. Indeed,
Hugh soon came to the conclusion that they were the warmest-hearted
pair he had ever known in all his life.

Mrs. Winslow was wheeled cheerily to her appointed place at the table
by her husband, who waited on her just as assiduously as though they
were lately married; instead of having "trudged along life's highway
in double harness," as the deacon, humorously put it, for a matter of
sixty years or so.

Of course, as Deacon Winslow was a deeply religious man, Hugh
expected he would ask a blessing before partaking of the bountiful
spread that was placed on the table; nor was he disappointed. The
deacon's deep-toned voice was wonderfully musical, and to Hugh it
sounded almost as though he were singing whenever he spoke. He never
grew tired of hearing the old blacksmith talk; though they would not
allow him to be a mere visitor, but, by asking many questions, kept
Hugh in the conversation.

The little fellow had been placed in a high chair. It looked of very
ancient vintage, Hugh thought, when first sighting it. Seeing the
look on his face the good lady of the house said in a voice that she
tried to keep from vibrating:

"It was our Joel's chair; somehow we have managed to keep it intact
through all the years. There was a time when I dreamed of some day
seeing this boy seated at my table in his father's high chair. But
your small friend, Hugh, fills a long vacant spot. I could almost
fancy he belonged there, he seems so like----"

Deacon Winslow must have seen that his wife was getting on forbidden
ground, for just at that moment he broke in with a question that
demanded an answer from Hugh; and so the subject was dropped. But
Hugh understood, and he felt his boyish heart throb with genuine
sympathy for this splendid couple, who had yearned to have a house
full of children, but somehow found their dearest wish set aside by a
mysterious decree of Providence.

They had a merry time at the table. Little Joey was as bright as
Hugh had ever known him to be, and fairly captivated the aged pair
with his prattle. The old lady in particular hung upon his every
word, as though in an ecstacy of delight. She anticipated his
childish wants, and, really, little Joey could never have sat down to
such a bountiful feast as on that memorable occasion.

Then the meal being ended they repaired again to the cheery fire.
The deacon put on fresh wood, and the crackle of the blaze was very
delightful on that cold night. Hugh had already spoken of the long
walk ahead of him, and how, perhaps, he had better postpone his visit
for another occasion, so as to get the child back home before it grew
too late.

"Don't think of it, son," said Deacon Winslow instantly, and in a
tone that would not be denied. "When the time comes I'll hitch my
horse to the big sleigh; we'll wrap the child up as snug as a bug in
a rug; and be over to your house in a jiffy. What if he does get a
bit drowsy; let him take a nap. I'm sure he'll be safe in the loving
arms of grandma."

At his mention of that last word the old lady hugged the child, and
bent her wrinkled kindly face close to his cheeks; but Hugh believed
it was to hide the rush of sacred emotions that swept over her.

Then they talked.

By degrees Hugh got his host started on the subject that was nearest
his heart, and which had to do with the wonderful habits of all the
small, wild animals of which the deacon had made a life-long study.

"It's a wonderfully fascinating subject, Hugh," the old blacksmith
philanthropist went on to say, as he started in. "I took it up just
as a fancy, but as the years went by it became a habit that grew on
me more and more. Yes, I have had an amazing lot of pleasure out of
my observations. As the good wife here will tell you, I've spent
hours on hours at night, hidden in the woods, with a light fixed on
some nest of a muskrat or gopher or fox, just to learn what the
cunning little varmint did betimes; when of rights I should have been
in my bed getting rested for another hard day's labor at my forge."

"His holidays have always been taken up in the same way," interrupted
Mrs. Winslow, smiling lovingly at her husband, whose heart she
evidently could read as though it were a printed book. "At first I
begrudged him the time, but later on I knew it was taking his
thoughts away from subjects that we were trying to keep out of our
minds, and I never tried to hold him back."

"It was my study of the habits of these small animals and birds that
gave me what little faculty I may possess for prophesying the weather
ahead," continued the old man. "They seldom, if ever, go wrong. If
I've hit it wrong now and then, the fault was mine, not theirs. I
had failed to properly interpret their actions, that was all."

So he went on to tell Hugh many deeply interesting experiments he had
undertaken along those lines. He also had a fund of wonderful
anecdotes, many of them quite humorous, connected with his little
friends of fur and feather.

The more Hugh heard him tell the greater grew his interest. He
resolved that at some time in the not distant future, when an
opportunity came along, he, too, would begin to pay more attention to
the multitude of interesting things that could be discovered in
almost any woods, if only the observer kept his eyes about him, and
did nothing to alarm the timid inmates of various burrows and hollow
trees.

So an hour passed, all too quickly.

Once Hugh took out his little nickel watch, as if under the
impression that it must be getting near time for him to think of
saying good-night; though he hated to leave such a jolly fireside,
and the fine couple.

"Please don't think of going home yet, Hugh," said the old man,
looking distressed at once. "The night is young, and I don't know
when I've enjoyed anyone's company as I have yours. My dreams in the
long ago were for just such a son as you. I envy your parents, my
lad. Providence, however, saw fit to turn my activities in another
direction; and I have done the best I could to be of some little help
to other people's sons. I only bitterly regret that I am able to do
so little."

"But I'm afraid the child may become too much bother for your good
wife, sir," Hugh was saying, although already deciding he would
remain longer.

The deacon laughed softly. He put out his big hand, and gently
touched Hugh on the sleeve.

"Look yonder, lad!" he went on to say; "does that strike you as if a
heavenly little sunbeam like the boy could ever be too much trouble
for her? See how her dear face is lighted up as she bends over him.
He's gone fast asleep in her arms, as contented as though with his
own mother. Ah! lad, it was a kindly act, your fetching that tiny
bit of humanity out to visit us. You have made her almost happy
again for once."

Hugh, looking, saw that the old lady was paying no further attention
to them, or listening to what they were saying. She touched the
sweet face of the child, and pressed her withered lips against his
soft skin. If a tear fell on the little fellow's head, was it to be
wondered at? He saw her open his clothes at the neck, as though the
heat of that blazing fire might be a little too much, in her matronly
estimation.

The deacon, too, was looking as though his heart might be in his
eyes. Such a spectacle as that must have been of rare occurrence at
his fireside, deeply as he regretted it.

Then he started talking again, for he had been in the midst of an
unusually interesting description at the time he drew the boy's
attention to the beautiful picture at the opposite side of the
fireplace. And Hugh, becoming wrapped up in the amusing episode for
the moment forgot all about little Joey and the loving soul who had
him held in her arms.

What the blacksmith was telling related to a thrilling happening he
had experienced on one occasion, when lying out in the woods watching
for a certain timid little rodent to commence moving around. At the
time the deacon had one of those new-fangled hand electric torches
with him, which he meant to use when the proper moment arrived.

Hearing voices drawing near he thought it best to warn the darkies
who were advancing in time, for, otherwise, they threatened to walk
directly over him in the pitch darkness. When, however, he flashed
his light suddenly toward them, he must have given them the fright of
their lives, for they uttered howls, and fled precipitately, despite
his reassuring calls.

"I afterwards learned," said the deacon, smiling broadly at the
amusing recollection, "that the three men were those colored players
who constitute the band you young people always have at your barn
dances, Daddy Whitehead, the leader, and his able assistants, Mose
Coffin and Abe Skinner. They really believed they had met something
supernatural in the woods, when taking a shortcut home, after
attending a dance somewhere out in the country. And, really, I never
had the heart to undeceive the poor ignorant chaps. But I warrant
you they kept to the highway after that terrible experience with
ghosts."

Hugh laughed at the mental picture of those three aged musicians, one
with his fiddle, another carrying a 'cello, and the third an oboe,
"streaking" it through the dark woods madly, possessed of a deadly
fear lest their time had come, and that they were pursued by
something from the spirit world.

He was just about to make some remark when the words froze on his
lips. Mrs. Winslow had given vent to a cry. It thrilled Hugh
strangely, as though he feared some agonizing pain had suddenly
gripped the old lady.

Both he and the deacon were instantly on their feet. As they glued
their eyes on the figure across on the other side of the broad hearth
they saw that she was sitting there with a marvelous look on her
wrinkled face--a look that seemed to tell of sheer amazement,
exceeding great joy, incredulity, and many other like emotions that
Hugh could not stop to analyze.

CHAPTER XVII

A WONDERFUL DISCOVERY

"Joel, come to me quickly!" they heard her gasp, as though she were
almost suffocating; and both of them hastened to her side.

"What has happened, wife?" cried the alarmed deacon.

"Oh! tell me, am I awake, or dreaming, husband?" she went on to say
thickly. "See what the child is wearing about his dear chubby neck!
Surely we ought to know that tiny gold locket. It carries me far
back through the long, weary, waiting years to the day I clasped it
about his neck--my baby Joel!"

The deacon snatched the object from her quivering hand. He stared
hard at it, as though he, too, might suspect he were asleep, and that
it was all but a vision of a disordered mind.

Hugh was trembling, he hardly knew why. Something seemed to rush
over him, something that thrilled him to the core. He had felt a
touch of the same sensation when the good old lady let him look at
the pictures in her family album, and pointed to one of her baby boy;
although at the time he could not fully grasp the idea that appealed
so dimly to his investigating mind.

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