Father Brighthopes Part 12

"I'll bet you a hundred dollars on it!" cried Mark, quickly, his eye kindling.

He was very sensitive about his horse-property, besides being a choleric man generally; and Mr. Royden only smiled, and shook his head.

"Have you got rid of Jake?"

"Never mind that; tell me what the colt is worth."

Mr. Royden expressed a favorable opinion of the beast, but declined to commit himself.

"Well, it don't make no difference," said Mark, with a smile of satisfaction. "He suits me very well," he added, with an oath.

The clergyman's countenance changed. The smile faded from his lips, and he glanced anxiously from Mark to the little boys who sat on the gra.s.s at his feet.

"Better look out about swearing 'fore the minister," said Sam, in a low tone, to Mark.

For the first time the latter regarded the old man attentively. At sight of his thin white locks, the color mounted to the jockey's brow; and when Father Brighthopes raised his calm, sad eyes, Mark's fell before them.

But Mark had some manly traits of character, with all his faults.

"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, frankly. "I wouldn't have used profane language, if I had known there was a minister within hearing."

"My friend," replied Father Brighthopes, in a kind but impressive tone, "you have my forgiveness, if that is of any account; but it seems you should rather forbear from using such language before children, whose minds are like wax, to receive all sorts of impressions--good or bad."

"The truth is," said Mark, "I thought nothing of it. It was wrong, I know."

To conceal his mortification, he began to brush the dust from the colt's feet with a wisp of gra.s.s. But his cheek was not the only one that tingled at the old man's words. Chester was very warm in the face; but only the clergyman observed the fact, and he alone could probably have understood its cause.

"To tell the truth," said Mark, laughing, "the colt isn't mine; he belongs to Mr. Skenitt, over on the north road; he has hired me to break him."

"I don't believe that," replied Mr. Royden, half in jest, and half in earnest. "n.o.body that knows you would trust you to break a young horse."

"Why not?"

"You're so rash and pa.s.sionate. You can't keep your temper."

"I believe in whipping, when a horse is ugly," muttered Mark, as if half a mind to take offence,--"that's all."

"You mustn't mind my jokes," said Mr. Royden. "Come, how did you trade?"

"I put away the brown horse, and gave some boot," replied Mark. "By the way, you haven't heard of any one's losing a horse recently, have you?"

"No; what do you mean?"

"Why, Skennit's boys saw a stray one in the road last night."

"n.o.body this way has lost one," said Mr. Royden.

Sam's heart beat with painful violence. He was very pale.

"He was running, with a saddle, and with the reins under his feet,"

continued Mark. "Somebody had probably been flung from him, or he had got away by breaking the halter."

"Was he stopped?" asked Chester.

"Not in that neighborhood, at any rate. It is hard stopping a horse after dark. What's the matter, Sam?"

"Nothing," murmured Sam, faintly.

"What makes you look so white?"

"I--I've got a lame foot."

"And I know where you got it?" thundered Chester, seizing him by the shirt-collar. "It is just as I thought, last night."

"Stop, Chester,--don't be rash!" cried Mr. Royden. "Sam, tell the truth, now, about that horse."

"I fell off," blubbered Sam.

"You incorrigible, lying rascal!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Chester. "Why didn't you say so last night?"

"I couldn't help it," and Sam wiped his face with his sleeve. "I didn't run him--and--and he got frightened."

"That has nothing to do with the question. Why didn't you tell the truth, the first thing?"

"Cause--I wasn't looking out-and he was going on a slow trot--when a stump by the side of the road scar'd him--and I fell off."

"But what did you lie about it for?" demanded Chester, fiercely.

"I was afraid I'd git a licking," muttered Sam.

"And now you'll get two of 'em, as you richly deserve. If father don't give 'em to you, I will."

"Hush, Chester, I'll attend to him," said Mr. Royden, more calm than usual on such occasions. "James, put the saddle on Old Boy. One of us must ride after the stray horse, and see where he is to be found. Sam, go and finish that churning, and prepare for a settlement."

With a sinking heart, the rogue obeyed. Mark went off, leading his colt; Chester rode to hunt up Frank; Mr. Royden proceeded to the field, and Father Brighthopes sought the privacy of his room to write. The boys clamored a little while at his door, then went cheerfully away to play with Lizzie in the garden.

X.

COMPANY.

It was near sundown when Chester returned, having succeeded in finding Frank, and returned him to his owner.

Meanwhile Father Brighthopes had had a long talk with the distressed and remorseful Sam. The old man's kindness and sympathy touched the lad's heart more than anything had ever done before. He could not endure the appeals to his better nature, to his sense of right, and to his plain reason, with which the clergyman represented the folly and wickedness of lying.