CHAPTER XIII

LED BY A KINDLY FATE

“Well, I declare!”

Ralph West stood rooted to the spot for a couple of seconds, as he allowed this exclamation to escape from his lips.

Perhaps he had half expected to have a couple of fellows pounce upon him as he pushed the branches aside; which would account for the manner in which his fists were clenched, and his teeth set.

What he saw was an entirely different spectacle. A little girl was seated on a hummock, rocking to and fro, with her childish face tear-stained, and full of bodily anguish.

The blood upon her hand told that she must have fallen and hurt herself badly. No doubt it was the sight of the blood that frightened her even more than the pain.

Ralph sprang forward, and the tear-stained face was turned up to him eagerly.

“What’s happened to you, little one?” asked the boy, as he bent down.

Already had he taken a clean handkerchief out, and shaken it from its folds. Thank goodness he had supplied himself liberally, with a hot game before him. Picking up the mangled hand, he saw that it was in need of immediate attention, as possibly a heavy rock had fallen on the fingers.

Ralph began to tenderly wrap his handkerchief about the torn fingers, at the same time speaking soothingly to the child. She had ceased crying and was looking at him wonderingly. Doubtless his baseball uniform astonished her greatly.

“It fell on me,” she managed to say, pointing to something near by; and Ralph saw that his surmise had been correct in so far as it concerned a stone.

“But what are you doing here; where do you live?” he asked, anxiously.

The child should not be left here in these woods with so serious a wound as the crushed fingers would likely prove. And yet his time was not wholly his own, since he must be on the field presently in order to practice before the calling of the great game.

“I’m Mary Smalling,” said the child, with utmost confidence and simplicity, as if every one ought to know after that.

Ralph had caught sight of a dinner pail on the ground near by. It was empty, too, which fact gave him the impression that the little girl might have been on the way home after carrying a noonday meal to her father.

He had an indistinct recollection of hearing the name before. Perhaps it was in connection with a new family that had come to live on the outskirts of the town; but just then in his confusion of ideas he could not for the life of him tell whether it had been on the other side along the river road, or to the west.

“Where does your father work?” he asked, on a hazard.

“For Mr. Gregg,” came the immediate answer.

“At the mill, the flour mill?” asked the boy, quickly.

A nod of the little auburn-crowned head answered him. Then Ralph knew what his duty was. He remembered that the mill was only a quarter of a mile away from the spot where they were at that moment. Perhaps the child’s home might be even closer, but he could not take the chances of hunting for it.

“I’m going to carry you to your father, Mary. You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asked, bending down again; for some one ought to get her to a doctor without much delay, so that it might be discovered whether any bones had been broken by the cruel fall of that heavy stone.

“Me? Oh! no,” she said, instantly, which pleased Ralph more than he cared to say, for it told him his manner had inspired confidence in the little maid.

So he gathered the wee mite of humanity up in his arms, and having decided upon which direction he should take, strode off.

“But--my dinner pail! Daddy won’t like me to lose it!” wailed the child, after they had gone fifty paces.

Nothing would do but that Ralph must return in order that she might clutch it in her one well hand. Then again he made a start. It was provoking that an accident like this should delay him just when minutes were of so much value. But Ralph could not have had the heart to leave that innocent child crying there alone in those dense woods even though a dozen ball games depended on his showing up at a certain time.

The little one proved more of a load than he had anticipated. Several times he would have been glad of a chance to rest and put her down; but the passage of time kept staring him in the face.

Ralph hoped that this encounter would not prove to be his undoing. He had grave fears that the strain of carrying the child so great a distance might shake his nerves in a way he would feel to his disadvantage during the progress of the game.

Little did the boy realize how a benevolent fortune was playing directly into his hands, and that the very thing he feared might be a calamity was fated to be but another stepping stone on the road to good luck.

The little girl had stopped crying. He could see her bright eyes looking up into his face every time he glanced down. As he staggered along Ralph kept talking in his cheery way, and no doubt that had considerable to do with her appearance of contentment.

At last, when Ralph feared he could hold out no longer, he heard the familiar whirr of the big water wheel, and caught a glimpse of the mill through openings in the trees.

“We’re almost there, Mary, and you will soon be with your father,” he said, smiling down at her.

“That will be nice. I’m glad you came,” the child answered; and Ralph believed there was enough of genuine gratitude in those simple words to repay him doubly for all his trouble.

All he begrudged was the time it had taken. Only for that he would not have cared had the distance been thrice as long, for it was certainly a pleasure for this lad to do a service to a helpless little creature in trouble.

He reached the road over which the supplies of the flour mill were carried, as well as the milled product hauled away. It was easier going now.

“There’s my daddy!” exclaimed Mary, struggling up in his arms.

Her voice must have reached the ears of a man who was working just outside the door of the mill, for he turned hastily and looked toward them. A moment later and he started on a run toward Ralph.

The boy could see that his face betokened alarm. It was not exactly a bad face, though there were the marks of dissipation upon it, showing that Mary’s father had not always led the best sort of a life.

“What’s the matter. What’s happened to the child?” he cried, hoarsely, as he came closer to the boy, who had stopped in his tracks now.

“Anyhow, he loves the little girl, that’s sure,” thought Ralph, as he saw the look of agony that made the man’s face turn white.

“She’s hurt her hand quite badly. I think a rock must have fallen on it while she was picking wild flowers, or reaching into the burrow of a chipmunk. Be careful, sir, it’s bleeding a lot,” said Ralph, as the man took her from his arms.

“But I didn’t lose the bucket, daddy, like you said I would!” cried the child, still gripping the tin tightly.

“Never mind the bucket, darling; it’s your hand I’m thinking about now. Where did you find her, my boy?” asked the man, eagerly.

Ralph was almost panting after his long and tiresome walk, burdened as he had been. He was only waiting to get his breath, so as to say that the little girl ought to be taken to a doctor without delay, and then expected to start in a hurry for the athletic field.

“About a quarter of a mile from here, and in the woods. I think she must have been on the way home. I was taking a roundabout way to the baseball field, you see, where I have to pitch a game for Columbia this afternoon,” Ralph explained, seeing the man look inquiringly at his suit.

“And you turned out of your way to carry my child all the way here! It was kind of you to do that, my boy, and I won’t forget it in a hurry. This girlie is everything in the world to me, I tell you. Thank you a thousand times for your trouble, and any time Sam Smalling can do anything to return the favor you just call on him, hear?” and he squeezed Ralph’s hand with emphasis.

“Oh! that’s all right. I wouldn’t have minded it a bit, only I was afraid I might be late for the game,” said Ralph, preparing to go.

“And everything depends on the pitcher, I know. That makes it all the kinder of you, turning aside as you did. I hope you’ll stop in and see us some time, my boy. We live in the Grant cottage, on the road to Menhaven. The girl will be glad to see you, and her mother, too, I wager.”

“I’ll try to, some time later. But I hope you can get her in to town to let a doctor look at those fingers without delay. If a bone is broken it ought to be set, you know,” said Ralph, over his shoulder, for he had started off.

“Hold on a minute, my boy. There’s our wagon and horse right handy. I’ll speak to the boss, and take the rig to drive to town right away. And by jumping in you can get to the baseball grounds quicker than if you walk; besides having a little rest. Wait up a minute. You haven’t told me your name, either, you see.”

Halted by these words from the father of Mary, Ralph turned on his heel. He saw that what the other had said was true, and that by waiting a bit he could ride with advantage to himself.

“I guess that’s a fact, and if you’re going right away I’ll hang on behind. To tell the truth, I’m a little mixed up in my bearings, and might get lost if I went without a guide. You see, I’ve only lived about here since last fall. My name’s Ralph West! Why, what’s the matter, sir?” for the man had started back while he was speaking, and stared at him as if suddenly given a shock.

“Ralph West? Do you mean to tell me that _you_ are the boy, then? And that some fatality has brought _you_ to do a favor for me and mine? This is the last straw on the camel’s back. I was weakening before; now I don’t see how I can hold out!”

And hearing these muttered words, Ralph realized with a thrill that Sam Smalling, the father of the child he had assisted, must know something about his mysterious past!