The new boys at oakdale, p.17
The New Boys at Oakdale, page 17
CHAPTER XVII
THE GREAT FEAR.
Aghast, his heart in his throat, Charley Shultz stared at the faceoutside the window. Only the upper part of the body of his unwelcomevisitor could be seen, and that, clothed all in white, seemedparticularly ghostlike. The head of the figure was encircled by a heavywhite bandage, like a turban. The eyes which stared back at Shultz froman apparently set and pallid face were full of terrible accusation andmenace, and beneath that unwavering gaze the terrified boy felt hisblood turn to icy currents in his veins.
For a moment he stood spellbound and as motionless as the unmovingfigure upon the roof of the ell. Presently, unable longer to endure theordeal of those burning orbs, Shultz fell back a step, clapping atrembling hand over his own eyes.
He struck against the little stand on which his lamp stood, and the lampwas overturned. Fortunately, it was of metal, and did not break. Thechimney, detaching itself, dropped upon a rug and was also unbroken. Theburning wick continued to flare, sending up a writhing spiral of smoke,but the room was temporarily plunged into semi-gloom; and, still furtherterrified lest complete darkness should ensue, Charley stooped andcaught up the lamp. He scarcely realized that he burned his quivering,nerveless fingers as he tried to replace the chimney. It was somemoments ere he succeeded in his object, and even then, with the lampgripped convulsively in his hand and held above his head, he couldscarcely bring himself once more to look toward the window.
When he did look, he was astounded by the fact that the apparition hadvanished, and for at least sixty seconds he stood watching for it toreappear; for it to materialize slowly and horribly, little by little,vague and mist-like at first, but gradually taking form and growingplainer, until, crouching at the window, it should once more sicken hissoul with those terrible eyes.
It did not come. Hoping at last that it was truly gone, he forcedhimself to advance, bearing the lamp. Reaching the window, he ran theroller shade to the very top, and then, still holding the lamp above hishead with one hand while he shaded his eyes with the other, he gazed outinto the silent night.
The lamplight showed that the roof of the ell was bare. At the far endof the building it fell upon a big chestnut tree with spreadingbranches. Beyond that nothing could be seen.
Presently, with a deep breath that was almost painful in the relief itgave, Shultz drew back from the window, seized the shade and quicklypulled it all the way down.
"Mercy! what a fright!" he whispered hoarsely. "I must have imagined it.My nerves must be on edge, and I never knew I had any nerves. GreatCaesar! but it did look natural and real!"
He put the lamp back on the stand and dropped upon a chair, weak andcovered with clammy perspiration. For the first time in his life,perhaps, Charley Shultz had been thoroughly frightened, and it was noeasy matter for him to recover and regain control of himself.
"I can hardly believe I imagined it, now!" he muttered. "Why should I? Ihaven't felt that I was really to blame for this Hooker business, and,if I'm not to blame, why should I get all wrought up over it?"
Up to this time his great concern had been almost wholly for himself ashe would be affected by the unfortunate affair. In a slight measure hehad regretted that Osgood would be entangled. Hooker had called him acheat and had been the first to lift his hand in wrath. Therefore, whyshould he feel remorse over what the fellow had brought upon himself?
"He deserved all he got," Shultz had told himself this over and over."Of course I didn't intend to give him a poke that would hurt himseriously, but I had to defend myself."
Now, however, something like a ray of light, piercing his distressedheart, showed him that under the circumstances he could not hope whollyto escape just blame and censure. Although seemingly a bit stolid aboutordinary affairs, he had always permitted his ungovernable temper andsomewhat bullying proclivities to have full sway, and no person with aviolent temper is totally phlegmatic or stolid. Rage and resentment hadput power into the smashing blow which threatened him with disgrace--orworse.
"If only I hadn't been quite so quick!" he sighed. "I didn't realizewhat might come of it. I didn't stop to think." Which is the prime causeof most misfortunes we bring upon ourselves; we do not stop to think.
Rising, after a time, from the chair, he paced the floor of the littleroom, feeling that in his present condition it would be useless to go tobed; for sleep would be denied him. Back and forth he walked for a longtime, his mind a riot of wild thoughts. Presently he stood still,breathing softly with his lips parted, his eyes wide and staring, yetseeing nothing in that room. A dreadful thought had gripped him. What ifHooker were dead?
"Perhaps it was his ghost I really saw!" The words drifted so faintlyfrom his lips that another person in the room could not have understoodthem. "It isn't impossible that he's dead! The doctor thought he'd getbetter, but doctors make mistakes. If he's dead I'm done for."
Scarcely realizing what he was doing, he flung on the garments he hadremoved some time before. And as he dressed he became more and moreconvinced that Roy Hooker was really dead.
"I'll have to get out of this town--quick. I'll pack up and get ready."
Forth from an adjoining closet he drew his trunk, into which he flunghis belongings without method or care. A few things, such as he mightneed for immediate use, he packed into a leather grip.
"I can't get away till morning," he muttered; "there's no train. Still,I suppose I might hire a team from the stable. I might tell them I'd hada message that my father was dying. It's thirty-four miles to Watertownon the main line, and there's a train goes through that place at four inthe morning. I could catch that train, but, first, I'll make sure aboutHooker."
Blowing out the lamp, he tiptoed down the dark stairs and presentlyfound himself outside the house in which Mr. and Mrs. Carter weresoundly sleeping. The air was raw and the night still dark. Later themoon would come up, though it might be smothered by clouds.
Shultz walked slowly, irresolutely, down the black road which led intoLake Street. After a time the academy loomed on his left, and on theright he saw the gymnasium and the fence of the athletic field. Like anavalanche a host of memories came rushing over him; memories of the dayshe had spent here since his expulsion from Berkley Academy.
For the first time he realized how pleasant those days had really been,and for the first time he perceived with wonderment that he had becomeattached to the place and it would give him regret to go away. Throughhis athletic prowess and his skill in baseball he had won a certainamount of popularity, which might have been much greater if he had onlymade some effort to curb his unpleasant characteristics. Osgood, hisfriend, was immensely popular; so popular, indeed, that it had seemedprobable that, through a little maneuvering and scheming, he mightsupersede Nelson as captain of the nine. Without a thought of the moralor manly points involved, they had plotted to bring this about.
"Well, it will never happen now," said Shultz, with a low, bitter laugh."The jig is up, anyhow. I hardly thought Ned would agree when I proposedit, but he almost jumped at it. I believe he'd been thinking of the verysame thing. There's class to his people, and he's a gentleman, so, whenhe did agree, it seemed all right to me." In this manner he sought toexcuse himself.
He recalled how he had scoffed at Oakdale, the school and the oldprofessor. He had even dreamed of resorting to various harassing methodsin order to make Professor Richardson's task so difficult that, unableto govern his pupils with a stern hand, he would withdraw from hisposition to let it be filled by a younger and more efficient instructor.Yes, having instilled some of his own spirit into his associates, Shultzhad started a campaign of nagging and annoyance and disregard for whathe called old-fashioned rules, which had certainly given the principalno small amount of worry and trouble.
"I suppose," he half laughed, as he walked slowly past the building,"the old relic thinks I'm a bad egg. What do I care what he thinks! Whatdo I care what anybody thinks!" But for the first time in his life hedid care.
At this hour the center of the village seemed dark and deserted. Only anoccasional light was to be seen shining dimly from a window.Nevertheless, the boy hesitated about passing through the square,fearing that some one might see him, know him, and wonder what he wasdoing prowling about so late. This fear led him to turn from Lake Streetand cross lots toward the rapids below the upper dam. In this manner hestole down the slope at the rear of the stores and houses which linedthe western side of lower Main Street.
The water was gurgling and grumbling around the rocks which thrustthemselves upward in the channel. At intervals, as Shultz passed, ithissed, like a living creature expressing scorn and hatred.
At the bridge he climbed upward to the roadway, where he stood for a fewmoments, peering and listening.
"I seem to be the only one alive in this old burg." The thought broughtHooker to his mind--Hooker, dead, perhaps.
Cross Street, which ran back of the town hall and along the shore of thelower pond, would bring him into Lake Street again, near Willow, uponwhich was the home of the Hookers. He had almost reached Lake Streetwhen he stopped short, halted by the sound of echoing footsteps, whichwere approaching from that part of the town he had avoided. In a momenthe was pressing his body against the bole of a big tree.
The footsteps came nearer. The person began to hum a tune. Here was someone abroad with a light heart and fearless of observation.
"It must be Tuttle," thought the boy by the tree. "Yes, it is. Why don'the let his eternal peanuts stop his mouth?"
Chub Tuttle passed on the opposite side of the way, and, ceasing to humas he trudged serenely homeward, began to whistle not unmelodiously. Thenotes of "The Last Rose of Summer" came drifting back to the ears ofCharley Shultz, growing fainter and fainter in the distance and soundinginexpressibly sad.
Shultz thought it must be getting darker, and was amazed, on rubbingthem, to find that his eyes were moist and blurred. He leaned againstthe tree and listened, almost against his will, as the whistling grewfainter and yet fainter, softened and sweetened by the distance. When hecould hear it no longer he gave himself a savage shake.
"You fool!" he rasped. "What's the matter with you? You never felt likethis before. You're growing silly."
Reaching Willow Street, he gazed toward Hooker's home, but, even had thedarkness not prevented him from seeing the house, it stood so far backon the Middle Street corner that he could not have surveyed it from hispresent position. Dread heavily upon him, yet hope not entirely dead, hewalked slowly up the street. He had almost reached the corner when hestopped again.
He could see the house now, and his heart hammered furiously as heperceived that something was taking place there. There were lightsflashing from room to room; he heard excited voices calling; the housewas in a commotion.
"What's that mean? What's that mean?" whispered Shultz over and over.
Suddenly the door of the house was flung open. A man came running out,some one calling after him. Down the steps he sprang; across Lake Streethe dashed; along Middle Street he raced.
Panting, one hand clutching a nearby fence-railing, Shultz was certainhe knew the cause of this commotion. Mr. Hooker was running for thedoctor. They had just discovered that Roy was dead.
Turning sharply about, Schultz ran also.
