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

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Then Deacon Winslow found his voice, though it was thick and husky
when he went on to say hastily:

"Yes, it does look mighty like the one you had for the boy; and we
never found it again, you remember, after he--left home; so we
thought he had taken it along with everything else he owned. But
wait, wife, don't jump at conclusions. It is next to impossible that
this should be the tiny chain with the plain gold pendant that you
bought for our little Joel. Surely there must have been many others
like it made."

Apparently, he was sorely afraid lest the bitter disappointment would
follow. The blasting of those new, wild hopes of hers might have a
bad effect on the old lady. That was why the deacon tried to keep
her from being too sanguine, even though he himself was possibly
hugging suddenly awakened rapturous dreams to his heart.

"There may have been others, Joel!" she cried exultantly; "but look
on the back of the medallion. I feared it might be lost some day,
Joel, so I scratched his initials there. My glasses are too moist
for me to see well; look and tell me if you can make out anything,
husband!"

Even Hugh held his breath while the deacon turned the tiny medallion
over in his hands. Then he snatched up a reading glass of
considerable power from the table, and held it close to the object in
his quivering clutch.

They heard him give a cry, and it did not hint at disappointment.

"Oh! Joel, are the three letters there?" she begged piteously, as she
hugged the still calmly sleeping child closer and closer to her heart.

"Something I can see, wife, although it is very faint," he told her.
"But then think of the many years that have elapsed. The scratches
must have been very lightly done at best. Hugh, your eyes are
younger than mine; and, besides, I'm afraid there are tears dimming
my sight. Look, and tell us what you see!"

It was a picture, with those two old people so eagerly hanging on the
decision of the clear-eyed youth. Hugh used the glass, for he wanted
to make certain. It would be doubly cruel if by any mistake on his
part those anxious hearts were deceived.

"I can plainly make out the first initial, which is J beyond
question," he almost immediately said.

At hearing that the deacon cast a swift look toward his wife, which
she returned in kind. Neither of them could find utterance for a
single word, however, such was the mental strain under which they
labored.

"The last letter looks like a W," continued Hugh. "Yes, now that
I've rubbed it with my finger I am positive of that. As for the
middle one, I think it must be either an O or a C, though it's rather
hard to say."

Deacon Winslow gave a deep sigh.

"And our boy's middle name was Carstairs, named after his mother's
family!" he hastened to say.

Then they exchanged more wondering looks. It was very like a
miracle, the bringing of the little child into the home of that
couple whose fireside had so long awaited the coming of such a
sunbeam.

Deacon Winslow turned almost fiercely on Hugh, and gripped his sleeve.

"You must tell us more about the boy," he said. "Who is he, and
where did he come from? Those are vital things for us to learn. We
could never know peace again if this mystery were not made clear. So
tell us, Hugh, tell us as quickly as you can, so that we may learn
the best, or the worst."

He saw that they were strangely shaken, and Hugh wisely believed it
best to reassure them in the very beginning.

"First of all, sir," he started to say, "I begin to believe it may be
what you would wish most of all. This boy who so much resembles your
own child of the past is likely to turn out his son or perhaps
grandson, for his mother's name is Walters, we've learned. You ask
me where I found him, and I meant to tell you later on, never
dreaming that it would interest you more than casually. I picked him
and his mother up Thursday evening just at dusk, when I was coming
home from a farm in a sleigh, where I had been to get a sack of
potatoes. The young woman was trying to ask me something when she
swooned away."

"Go on, lad, go on!" pleaded the deacon hoarsely, as Hugh paused for
breath.

"Of course, the only thing I could do was to get them into the sleigh
and whip up the horse," Hugh continued. "Once I reached home my
mother would not hear of the poor thing being taken to the hospital.
She had her put to bed and the doctor called in. Since that time she
has been threatened with fever; in fact, is partly out of her head,
though Doctor Cadmus says he believes she will be sensible by
to-morrow morning. She was simply half-starved, and dreadfully
worried about something."

"But could you not hear a few random words she uttered that would
give you some idea as to her identity, and where she came from?"
asked the deacon.

"Besides her name, which seemed to be Walters, she has said nothing
that gives us a clue, save that we imagine they must have lived
somewhere in the West."

"In the West--and our Joel started for that section of the country!"
gasped the old lady, still patting the curly head on her lap lovingly.

"And then the lad's name is very similar," broke in the deacon. "Are
you sure, Hugh, if isn't Joel? Might not the child have simply given
the baby pronunciation of Joey?"

"I think that would be very likely, sir," admitted the boy readily.

Again the agitated couple exchanged looks. Hugh would certainly
never forget the joyous expression that sat upon both faces. It was
as though Heaven had opened to them, and given them back the child of
their younger years.

The deacon dropped down on his knees. One arm went around his aged
wife and the little fellow she cuddled in her lap. In sonorous tones
he lifted up his voice and gave thanks from the depths of his heart
for the great mercy shown to them that night.

Hugh was deeply affected. He believed some invisible hand must have
guided him when he took that sudden notion to have the child go
walking with him, his mother having suggested that it might do the
little chap good to get an airing after being shut up in the house
all day long.

His mind raced back, and once more he marshalled all the facts, as
far as he knew them, before him. Yes, there did not seem to be any
reason to believe such a thing as a sad mistake could be made. That
boy certainly had the Winslow blood in him; why, he greatly resembled
the Joel of more than fifty years back, as shown in that old-time
daguerreotype.

Then Deacon Winslow once more rose to his feet. His face was fairly
radiant, as was that of his wife.

"I believe I can understand how this comes about," he was saying,
just as if he might have had a revelation as he prayed there. "It is
no accident, but the hand of a special Providence. Our petitions
have been heard, and this is the answer; so the last few years of our
lives may be made happy by the sight of our own flesh and blood. My
poor service has come up as a memorial before Heaven. And let us
hope that tomorrow, when that poor girl comes into her senses again,
she will be able to tell us all of the wonderful story."

"There is one thing I should have mentioned, sir, which slipped my
mind," Hugh went on to say just then. "Always in her delirium she
seems to be pleading with someone not to deny her a place under his
family roof with her little Joey. And it is to an imaginary
_grandfather_ she is appealing, so pathetically that I have seen my
mother crying time and again, for very sympathy."

"A grandfather, and cruel at that!" said the old man, shaking his
head, while the tears rolled unheeded down his furrowed cheeks. "At
least, that does not apply to me. She will learn presently that we
stand ready to take her into our hearts and home as our own. Oh! it
seems too good to be true, this blessing that has come to us
to-night. And, Hugh Morgan, you must always be associated in our
minds with this realization of our utmost hopes, which of late years
we have not even dared whisper to each other."

He wrung the boy's hand until Hugh almost writhed under the pressure;
while the happy "grandma" continued to devour the plump, rosy-cheeked
face of her charge with her eyes, as though she could not tear her
gaze away.

Long they continued to sit there and talk, always upon that one
subject, because everything else must be subordinated to the
wonderful revelation that had come to them, to prove that truth is
often stranger than fiction.

Three times did Hugh suggest that he had better be heading towards
home: but they pleaded with him to stay "just a little longer"; for
their starved hearts found it hard to let the newly found treasure
out of sight, even for a short time.

"But I must really be going," Hugh finally told them. "It is now
after ten, and mother will be worrying about the child, not knowing,
of course, that he has found a new protector, two of them, in fact.
You can both come over after breakfast in the morning, and visit the
boy. If his mother has regained her senses, and the doctor permits
it, you will be able to settle the matter once and for all by seeing
her."

So with that they had to rest content. The child was bundled up
warmly, and tenderly placed in the sleigh by his huge grandfather,
after the old lady had kissed his forehead and cheeks a dozen times.

Then they were off, and shortly afterwards arrived at the Morgan
home. Deacon Winslow insisted on carrying the tiny chap indoors;
after which he hastened back, to sit up most of the night with his
wife, talking of the wonderful thing that had come to bless them in
their old age.

And Hugh, on his part, had a deeply interested auditor in his mother,
as he spun the yarn that equaled anything he had ever read in the
Arabian Nights.

CHAPTER XVIII

IN A SAFE HARBOR AT LAST

Hugh had finished breakfast on Sunday morning, and was out looking
after a few pets he had in the way of Belgian hares and homing
pigeons, when he heard his mother calling him.

"Coming, Mother!" he answered hack, thinking on the spur of the
moment he was needed to look after the furnace or steam boiler, from
which the hired girl did not always succeed in getting the best
results on particularly frosty mornings.

She waited for him just inside the door. Hugh saw immediately that
his first surmise was wrong, for there was a look on her face to tell
him it was no trivial matter she had to communicate.

"What is it, Mother?" he asked quickly.

"She is asking for you, Hugh," he was told.

Then he suddenly remembered about the young mother who had lain there
since Thursday evening, and out of her mind with fever.

"Oh! then the good old Doc was right!" Hugh exclaimed; "he said, you
know, that he felt sure she'd be in her right senses by Sunday
morning. You've been talking with her, have you, Mother?"

"Yes, and relieving her immediate curiosity and alarm," he was told.
"Naturally, she was full of wonder when she awoke to find herself in
a strange room, with no little Joey near by. She thought it was the
hospital, and that the cold had claimed him for a victim. But I soon
calmed her fears, and she knows now all about how she came here; and
also that her boy is still sleeping happily close by; for he is
taking a long nap this morning, after his dissipation of last night."

"But, you didn't say anything about the deacon and his dear old wife,
did you?" continued Hugh.

"Not a word, my son. I wished you to be the one to convey the glad
news to that poor young mother. She wanted to ask me further
questions, but I avoided committing myself. She did come from the
Far West, it appears. Her money ran out just too soon and they had
to leave the train at a station this side of Waldron Falls. She was
go determined to reach Scranton before night that she actually
started out afoot, it seems, despite the cold and the snow-covered
roads. Several kind-hearted men gave them lifts on the way; but it
was a long journey, and she became exhausted before reaching her
destination. But come with me, Hugh; she wishes to thank you face to
face."

Hugh did not like that part of it. As a rule, he ran away from such
scenes; but in this case he knew that would never do, since he wished
to learn further concerning Joey and his mother; and, besides, had
some pleasant information to tell her that must cheer her heart
amazingly, and also hasten her recovery.

So he followed his mother into the spare room where the young woman
lay. She had been propped up with extra pillows by Mrs. Morgan while
they talked, though kept well covered up. Indeed, the loving hands
of the older lady had succeeded in placing a warm, knitted sack upon
her arms and shoulders, Hugh saw.

She looked eagerly at the boy. Her face was not so feverish as
before; indeed, he could see without being a physician that the
patient was much better.

"And this is Hugh?" she said, in a voice that trembled. "Yes, I seem
to remember your face, and how you listened to me trying to tell you
how much I wanted to get to Scranton before I fell sick, for I could
feel it coming on. And your mother tells me you carried us both home
in your sleigh. It was a generous heart that could take an utter
stranger in, as you have done, and care for her as if she were your
own flesh and blood. Please let me thank you, Hugh, from the bottom
of my heart."

Hugh took the hand she extended; but he was careful not to give it
one of his customary vigorous squeezes; she looked so wan and frail
that he knew he must hold himself in check.

"Oh! it was a mighty little thing for anyone to do, Mrs. Walters," he
said, in some confusion, but speaking the name with a purpose in view.

"How did you know that was my name, Hugh?" she asked immediately.

"You mentioned it, my dear, in your delirium," explained Mrs. Morgan;
"and then, besides, Joey told us that much."

"And did I tell you anything more in my ravings?" she asked, looking
worried.

"Only something about a certain grandfather whom you seemed to think
might not receive you as you ardently hoped when you started forth on
this long journey," the older lady told her. "But then you did not
know what was in store for you. Sometimes great blessings, as well
as dire calamities, spring upon us without the least warning. Hugh,
I shall leave the telling to you from this point on."

The young mother looked from one face to the other.

"Oh! what is it?" she almost gasped. "You are keeping something from
me I ought to know. Please tell me, Hugh, I beg of you. If it is
good news I shall be so very grateful, for little Joey's sake mostly.
Everything I do, everything I think of, is in connection with my
darling child."

"Then I hope you will forgive me if I'm rushing things too fast!"
exclaimed the eager boy, unable to restrain his news longer; "but
little Joey spent two hours last evening asleep in the loving arms of
his great grandmother; while Deacon Winslow again and again embraced
both, and gave thanks for the great blessing that had come to his
fireside!"

How her eyes sparkled when she heard what he said. If Doctor Cadmus
had been in the room just then he might have cautioned them against
too much excitement, lest the fever return; but surely such glorious
news could not do harm, with her heart singing songs of thanksgiving.

"Oh! tell me all about this wonderful thing!" she cried; "how could
you guess my secret, if I did not betray it in my delirium? Now that
you have said this much I must know all about it. Please go on,
Hugh!"

He needed no such urging when the words were ready to fall in a
stream from his lips. So Hugh commenced, and rapidly sketched the
strange happenings of the preceding evening--how he had taken the
little fellow with him for a walk, and stopped at the smithy to see
the sparks flying upwards in showers; of the invitation to take
supper, and spend an hour in chatting with the deacon and his good
wife. Then, quick on the heels of this he told how Mrs. Winslow,
while holding Joey in her arms so lovingly as he slept in his
innocence, had suddenly made that amazing discovery in connection
with the baby chain, and smooth medallion, shaped like a locket.

She lay there with her eyes closed, eagerly drinking in every word
the boy uttered. The unrestrained tears crept unheeded down her
cheeks; but Mrs. Morgan did not worry, because only too well did she
know these were tears of overpowering joy; and not of grief.

Finally the story was all told, and she opened her eyes, swimming as
they were, to look fondly at each of them in turn.

"What happiness has come into my life!" she said, with a great sigh;
and, evidently, the load of years had rolled from her heart. "And
how grateful I must always be to the kind friends who have brought it
to me and mine. I can never do enough to show you how I appreciate
it all."

Then Hugh thought himself privileged to ask a few questions in turn,
wishing to thoroughly satisfy himself with regard to several points
that were as yet unexplained.

She told them how her husband had lost his life; and that, when she
and the boy faced poverty, the resolution had come to her to go East
and try to find the relatives whom she had only lately learned were
located somewhere near Scranton. She had come across an old and
time-stained diary kept by her mother's father, who, of course, was
the runaway son of Deacon Winslow; and thus she learned how he had
left his home in the heat of anger, and never once communicated with
his parents up to the time of his death, which occurred a short three
years after his marriage.

It was all very simple, and supplied the missing links in the chain.

After she had told them these things once more she asked Hugh about
the aged couple. That was a subject the boy could talk about most
enthusiastically for a whole hour, he was that full of it. And the
happy look on her face told how like balm to her heart his words came.

"And they are coming to see you early this morning," he finally
assured her. "I wouldn't be surprised if either of them has had a
single wink of sleep last night for counting the minutes creep by,
they are that anxious to claim you and Joey."

Just then the doorbell rang. Hugh laughed, as though he had been
expecting such a happening; in fact, he had heard the sound of sleigh
runners without creaking on the hard-frozen snow, and suspected what
it signified.

"There they are this minute!" he exclaimed; "shall I run down and let
them in, Mother? And ought they come right upstairs?"

"Have them take off their wraps first, and warm their hands at the
radiator," she wisely told him, thinking of the invalid who would
soon be in their embrace.

It was a very brief time before he ushered them into the room. First
the old lady was assisted across the floor, for she could hardly
walk, even when so determined to come over, and greet her
granddaughter. And when her arms were twined around the weak little
figure on the bed, and she pressed her to her matronly bosom, Joey's
mother broke down in hysterical sobs, and, in turn, twined her arms
about the neck of her newly found relative.

The old deacon looked radiant. He kissed her on the forehead, and
tried to say something appropriate, but was compelled to turn his
head aside and blow his nose vigorously, for his emotions overpowered
him.

Presently, however, they were able to talk rationally, and then it
was all settled how Joey and his mother were to live with the old
couple, and be their very own always. Everything was explained, and
Hugh finally found himself able to "break away," being consumed by a
desire to run across lots to Thad's house, and tell him the wonderful
story.

There is no need of accompanying Hugh on his errand, and seeing how
Thad took the amazing news. Of course, he was simply thunder-struck,
and delighted also beyond measure. He must have made Hugh tell the
full particulars as many as several times, for they were all of an
hour together. But then, Thad's folks had been called in, and told
how after all these years a descendant of Deacon Winslow had come
back to the old roof-tree, to make the happiness of the aged couple
complete.

Of course, the story was soon known all over Scranton, and everybody
rejoiced with the beloved old blacksmith who had so long been the
best friend of the boys of the neighborhood. But Hugh, who was
really the hero of the occasion, was congratulated by everybody for
being the means of re-uniting these lonely souls, and incidentally
providing Little Joey with a good home.

CHAPTER XIX

MEETING BELLEVILLE'S STRONG TEAM

Another week rolled around, and once again school had closed for the
Saturday and Sunday period of rest from studies.

It seemed as though luck favored the young people of Scranton this
season, so far as fair weather went. There had been no snowfall of
consequence during the entire week; and now Saturday opened with fair
skies, as if inviting them to go forth and enjoy themselves to their
full bent.

The great hockey game with Belleville High was to take place in the
neighboring town, as Captain Kramer (known far and wide simply as "O.
K.," because those were his initials) had drawn the long straw in
settling this matter with Hugh, and was, therefore, given the choice
of territory, according to custom.

Really no one in Scranton was sorry. They had held the last match
there on the new rink, and could not expect to have a monopoly of
these happenings all through the season. Besides, they had a
splendid lake over at Belleville, which would be considerable of an
attraction to the young people of Scranton, whom fortune had not
treated so kindly, since they had formerly been compelled to trudge
several miles to Hobson's mill-pond when they wished to skate, swim,
or fish; though now, of course, they had the newly flooded area in
the baseball park for diversion.

A great many went over to Belleville in every manner of vehicle.
Sleighs were in great demand, but, besides these, cars could be seen
by dozens on the highroad leading to the rival town, situated some
ten miles away.

It must needs be something over which they had no control that could
keep any Scranton High boy or girl away from Belleville that Saturday
morning. The very atmosphere seemed to be charged with electricity,
and was calling them to hasten away, to join the throngs already
pouring forth, bent on giving encouragement to those gallant young
athletes representing their school, who had as yet not tasted of
defeat on the ice that season.

The lake just outside of Belleville was quite extensive, and could
not be insulted with the name of "pond," for it ran at least a mile
in length, and half that in width.

While the ice was no longer as smooth as had earlier been, the case,
still it seemed in fair condition. Besides, the Belleville boys had
managed to flood that section to be given over as a rink; and
ordinary skaters were warned to keep off, so that it might not be all
"cut up" with sharp runners before the match was started.

The Belleville team looked dangerous. They were, of course, pretty
much the same fellows whom Scranton High had met the preceding summer
on the baseball diamond; some of them had also taken part in the
athletic tournament late in the Fall, accounts of which events will
be found duly chronicled in earlier volumes of this series.

When all the preliminaries had been settled good-naturedly, the rival
teams lined up to hear the last instructions of the referee. This
party was the same gentleman who had officiated with such
satisfaction in the game with Keyport on the preceding Saturday.

Here is the list of players, and the positions they occupied,
Scranton having kept the identical Seven with which the last game had
been so cleverly won, though many people were of the opinion they had
a much more difficult proposition before them in the Belleville boys:

_Scranton High_ _Position_ _Belleville_
Stevens ......... Goal ............ Leonard
Hobson .......... Point ........... Wright
Danvers ......... Cover Point ...... "O. K." Kramer
Smith ........... Right End ........ Gould
Dugdale ......... Center ........... Waterman
Morgan .......... Rover ............ Conway
Juggins ......... Left End ......... Haggerty

The game had hardly begun before Hugh realized that those Belleville
fellows had determined to down the visitors, if it took every ounce
of strenuous ability they possessed. Previous defeats at the hands
of Scranton High rankled in their hearts, and they were grimly
resolved, "to do or die," as one of them told Thad Stevens while
chatting before the game was called.

They made a whirlwind beginning, and had scored two goals before the
visitors began to "find" themselves. This would never do, Hugh
determined. He gave his players a signal that called for a spurt,
and himself led the way by capturing the puck, and shooting it into
the cage of their opponents amidst loud footings of great joy from
the loyal and now anxious Scranton rooters.

Juggins distinguished himself also immediately afterwards by a
lightning play that amazed the Belleville spectators. He dodged all
interference and when finally too hard pressed, managed to send the
rubber disc across to Dugdale, who continued the good work by
shooting it into the charge of Hobson; and, almost before Leonard
could try to stop its flight, it had gone with a crash into the cage
for the second goal on Scranton's side.

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