CHAPTER XXI
RALPH HEARS SOMETHING
Ralph had become cautious by this time.
“Two narrow squeaks, and the third time may see me held tight,” he said to himself, as he crouched there, looking around.
He knew positively that the anxious sophomores were hiding everywhere about, their eyes on the barn where the freshmen had vanished, bearing their dinner with them. How to creep away undetected was a question for the lad to solve. He found where the darkness lay most heavily, and laid out his line of retreat accordingly.
He was just about to rise when he thought he had crept far enough away, when he heard a fluttering of the bushes near by.
“Are the birds all in the coop?” asked an unseen crouching figure.
Ralph knew that he had been taken for one of the second-year boys. His ready wit came to the front, so that he instantly replied:
“Yes. And the captain wants you all to creep in closer. I’m rounding the gang up. Move along!”
He came near laughing aloud to see not one, but three shadowy forms crawling off in the direction of the barn, and leaving the path free for the escaping freshman.
“Ta! ta! and many thanks!” whispered Ralph, as he waved a hand after the last of these figures.
Then he started away, and it must be a pretty clever sprinter who could overtake him now, once he made a break. In several directions he heard low voices calling, as though the hidden sophomores wondered who it could be running along the road. But there was no pursuit made, for which the already weary Ralph felt glad.
He had gone through with a tremendous amount of mental and physical strain that day, and had no desire to continue with another series of adventures.
So he presently arrived in the near vicinity of the cabin home of Sam Smalling.
“There’s a light in the window,” he muttered, as he drew near; “and that looks as if he expected me.”
Ralph was shivering, not with the cold, or even because of his double adventure that night, but with apprehension. He dreaded lest a disappointment might await him. Perhaps, after all, the story Smalling had to tell might not shed any particular light on his history.
Another thing that had begun to give him anxiety. He wondered whether he might not be the child of that same Arnold Musgrove, and that from some cause or other his father was ashamed to own him!
Bracing himself, he stepped up to the door of the humble cabin.
Hardly had he knocked before the door was opened.
“Glad to see you, Ralph. I began to think you wasn’t going to turn up, it was getting so late,” said the man, holding out his hand and drawing him inside.
“I was delayed on the way. Our class is giving a spread to-night, and the sophs got hold of me, making me a prisoner. I had some trouble breaking away. Then I had to go and warn the fellows so they might not be taken by surprise. But after all it isn’t much after half-past eight, sir.”
Ralph while speaking was looking around.
“Surprised to see me alone here? Well, to tell the truth I was ashamed to let the missus know what a mean thing I done aways back, and I got her to take all the kids and go over to stay with a neighbor to-night. The woman’s sick, and my wife can make herself useful there. I wanted a clear field, because I’ve got something to say I’m mighty much ashamed of,” said Smalling, slowly.
“Before you tell me anything I think I ought to let you know what’s happened to me since I met you this afternoon.”
So saying, Ralph rapidly narrated what the New York lawyer had told him. The man listened eagerly, though his manner was rather moody.
“Yes,” he said as Ralph finished, “it all seems to agree with what I know, only I wasn’t so sure about them names. The man called himself Andrew Jackson when he hired me to help him out years back. Money tempted me; and besides, at that time I hadn’t met the woman that helped me get the better of my drink habit. Mind, I ain’t makin’ excuses for what I done. It was a low game, and I’ve often thought about it since, wondering what had come of the baby I helped kidnap!”
“Oh!”
Ralph could not keep back that one exclamation. It seemed to him that he must either be dreaming, or else deep in some romance. That these matters were connected with his own life seemed bordering on an absurdity.
“You must be about fourteen now, Ralph, I judge. It was nigh that time back that I fell in with a gentleman who seemed to have plenty of money, and wanted some one to help him play a little game. As I said, at that time I was drinking hard, and conscience seldom bothered me; so I joined forces with him, and together we did the business.
“He brought the baby to me in the night. It was a boy about three months old, and even if he had dressed it in ragged and dirty clothes, I knew that it must have come from some family away up in life. It had the looks of an aristocrat.
“I obeyed orders, and carried that kid far away from New York. Up here in the country I left it in charge of an old woman for a month. That was to wait till all the hue and cry had died out, you see, and was according to my orders. Then I took the baby and left him at the poorhouse door!”
Again Ralph sighed. It seemed to him that he was in a trance. Smalling had allowed his head to fall forward upon his chest, as though he could hardly bear to look into the eyes of the lad he had injured so deeply.
“Oh! please go on! How did you know that I was taken by the Wests, and called Ralph? Tell me everything--I must know all, now!” pleaded the boy, with his voice quivering.
Smalling looked up.
“I’m going to tell everything now, Ralph, because I’m sorry I ever had a hand in this game. I can see now what that scoundrel was after, and how he used me as a tool. Even if I go to jail for it, I’m going to tell the truth!”
He brought his fist down upon his knee as he spoke in this manner.
“Three years afterward I just chanced to be up in these parts again for a little stay. To tell you the ugly truth, I was hiding from the police at that time. While here I remembered about that kid, and asked a few cautious questions. In that way I learned that the Wests had adopted you, and that they called you Ralph. And when I heard that they were a good family, and would treat you white, why, I just kinder let the thing slip out of my mind, believing that you’d be happy without ever knowing that they wasn’t your real parents.
“I admit that more’n once I tried to find that gent. Them times was when I was hard up and thought I might threaten him into giving me some more coin. But he seemed to have covered his tracks too well for me. I reckon I hunted New York all over thinking to see him, but it was no go. Now I suppose it was because he kept on the other side of the ocean most of the time.”
“Then you remember what he looked like, do you?” asked Ralph, eagerly.
At this Sam Smalling chuckled.
“It’s better than that, my boy, far better. I’ve got a picture of my benevolent employer, took in the queerest way you ever heard of.”
He drew out an old pocketbook, and rummaging through this found a small piece of cardboard which he handed to the boy.
Ralph uttered an exclamation of astonishment.
The photograph was weak, having either faded from age, or else because of insufficient light at the time of taking; but it was easy to distinguish in one of the two figures a man who much resembled Sam Smalling.
“Why, isn’t this you?” demanded Ralph.
“No other. And that chap standing there is Mr. Andrew Jackson, as he called himself, which I believe is the same as Mr. Arnold Musgrove,” replied the man.
“But what is he handing you--that bundle?” gasped the boy, suspecting the truth.
“That was _you_, Ralph, the poor little baby that he wanted to have disappear! Yes, this picture was taken at just the minute he gave you to me. You wonder how that could ever happen, and I’ll tell you. I was bunking at the time with a drunken photographer, and he knew what I was going to do. It was his suggestion that he try and get a picture of the man of money. I remember we had a hazy notion that it might help us to get money out of the chap later on.”
“And he managed it, then?” asked Ralph, wondering; for flashlights were hardly in use so far back, and this picture showed no signs of having been taken in that fashion.
“He did, though I don’t know how. The click of the machine startled my employer, and he came near dropping the baby; but I told him it was a window creaking upstairs in the old building, and he believed it. But after all the picture never did either of us any good, for I never could find Mr. Jackson again to ask a loan on the strength of it,” and the man laughed disdainfully.
“But now the picture promises to come in valuable to me. Oh! will you please let me have it to give to Mr. Allen, who is going to carry my case out for me?”
“Certain I will. And, Ralph, though it may cost me dear I stand ready to testify to my part in this here rascally game when the time comes. I give you my word on that, lad, come what will,” said Sam Smalling, resolutely.
Ralph squeezed his hand when he replied.
“Perhaps it may not be necessary at all. I promise you that you will not be brought into the matter if it can be helped; and Judge Allen will find a way, with this picture to help out, I’m sure. Oh! I wonder how that man could have been so cruel. And do you really think that his sister, this widow, Mrs. Langworthy, can be--_my mother_.”
“That’s what it seems like, and you can make up your mind to it, money was at the bottom of his game when he stole you and had me take you away. Sounds like a story out of the books, but I guess people to-day ain’t a bit different from old times.”
“I’m glad I came here to-night; and, Mr. Smalling, after what you’ve said and done don’t think I’m going to hold it against you. I’m too happy myself to want to make anybody suffer. And later on I expect to drop in here to see you again, you and little Mary,” said the boy, rising to go, for he was now just as anxious to see and consult with Judge Allen as he had been to reach Sam Smalling’s home.
“I’ll expect you, Ralph. I’m glad this happened as it did. It’s just Fate, that’s what! But the best of luck go with you, lad; and remember to call on me if there’s any hitch to the game. Good night, Ralph, good night.”