Lo, Michael! Part 45

Starr nodded saucily. "Yes, and Sam saw me do it. Sam knew all about it.

Buck went up the chimney right through that hot fire. Didn't you hear the tongs fall down? He went like a flash before you opened the door, and one foot was still in sight when that sheriff came in. I was so afraid he'd see it. Was it wrong?"

"I suppose it was," he said sadly. "The law must be maintained. It can't be set aside for one fellow who has touched one's heart by some childhood's action. But right or wrong I can't help being glad that you cared to do something for poor Buck."

"I think I did it mostly for--you?" she said softly, her eyes still down.

For answer, Michael reached out his hand and took her little gloved one that lay in her lap in a close pressure for just an instant. Then, as if a mighty power were forcing him, he laid it gently down again and drew his hand away.

Starr felt the pressure of that strong hand and the message that it gave through long days afterward, and more than once it gave her strength and courage and good cheer. Come what might, she had a friend--a friend strong and true as an angel.

They spoke no more till the train swept into the station and they had hurried through the crowd and were standing on the front of the ferryboat, with the water sparkling before their onward gliding and the whole, great, wicked, stirring city spread before their gaze, the light from the cross on Trinity Church steeple flinging its glory in their faces.

"Look!" said Michael pointing. "Do you remember the poem we were reading the other night: Wordsworth's 'Upon Westminster Bridge.' Doesn't it fit this scene perfectly? I've often thought of it when I was coming across in the mornings. To look over there at the beauty one would never dream of all the horror and wickedness and suffering that lies within those streets. It is beautiful now. Listen! Do you remember it?

"'Earth has not anything to show more fair: Dull would he be of soul who could pa.s.s by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth like a garment wear

"'The beauty of the morning: silent, bare, Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

"'Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

"'The river glideth at its own sweet will: Dear G.o.d! The very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!'"

Starr looked long at the picture before her, and then at the face of her companion speaking the beautiful lines word by word as one draws in the outlines of a well-loved picture.

Michael's hat was off and the beauty of the morning lay in sunlight on his hair and cheek and brow. Her heart swelled within her as she looked and great tears filled her eyes. She dared not look longer lest she show her deep emotion. The look of him, the words he spoke, and the whole wonderful scene would linger in her memory as long as life should last.

Two days later Starr started West, and life seemed empty for Michael. She was gone from him, but still she would come back. Or, would she come back after all? How long could he hope to keep her if she did? Sad foreboding filled him and he went about his work with set, strained nerves; for now he knew that right or wrong she was heart of his heart, part of his consciousness. He loved her better than himself; and he saw no hope for himself at all in trying to forget. Yet, never, never, would he ask her to share the dishonor of his heritage.

The day before Starr was expected to come back to Old Orchard Michael took up the morning paper and with rising horror read:

BANDIT WOUNDED AS FOUR HOLD UP TRAIN.

Express Messenger Protects Cash During Desperate Revolver Duel in Car.

Fort Smith, Ark.--Four bandits bungled the hold-up of a Kansas City pa.s.senger train, between Hatfield and Mena, Ark., early to-day. One was probably fatally wounded and captured and the others escaped after a battle with the Express Messenger in which the messenger exhausted his ammunition and was badly beaten.

When the other robbers escaped the wounded bandit eluded the conductor, and made his way into the sleeper, where he climbed into an empty berth. But he was soon traced by the drops of blood from his wound. The conductor and a brakeman hauled him out and battled with him in the aisle amid the screams of pa.s.sengers.

The bandit aimed his revolver at the conductor and fired, but a sudden unsteady turn of his wrist sent the bullet into himself instead of the conductor. The wounded bandit received the bullet in his left breast near the heart and will probably die. The Express Messenger is in the hospital at Mena and may recover.

Had the bullet of the bandit gone as intended it would more than likely have wounded one or two women pa.s.sengers, who at the sound of trouble had jumped from their berths into the aisle and were directly in the path of the bullet.

There is some likelihood that the captured bandit may prove to be the escaped convict, named "Buck," who was serving long sentence in the state penitentiary, and for whom the police have been searching in vain for the last three months.

Michael was white and trembling when he had finished reading this account.

And was this then to be the end of Buck. Must he die a death like that?

Disgrace and sin and death, and no chance to make good? Michael groaned aloud and bowed his head upon the table before him, his heart too heavy even to try to think it out.

That evening a telegram reached him from Arkansas.

"A man named 'Buck' is dying here, and calls incessantly for you. If you wish to see him alive come at once."

Michael took the midnight train. Starr had telegraphed her father she would reach Old Orchard in the morning. It was hard to have to go when, she was just returning. Michael wondered if it would always be so now.

Buck roused at Michael's coming and smiled feebly.

"Mikky! I knowed you'd come!" he whispered feebly. "I'm done for, pardner.

I ain't long fer here, but I couldn't go 'thout you knowin'. I'd meant to git jes' this one haul an' git away to some other country where it was safe, 'nen I was goin' to try'n keep straight like you would want. I would a'got trough all right, but I seen her,--the pretty lady,--your girl,--standing in the aisle right ahin' the c'ndct'r, jes' es I wuz pullin' the trigger knowed her right off, 'ith her eyes shinin' like two stars; an' I couldn't run no resks. I ain't never bin no bungler at my trade, but I hed to bungle this time 'cause I couldn't shoot your girl! So I turned it jes' in time an' took it mese'f. She seen how 'twas 'ith me that time at your house, an' she he'ped me git away. I sent her word I'd do the same fer her some day, bless her--an' now--you tell her we're square!

I done the bunglin' fer her sake, but I done it fer you too, pard--little pard--Mikky!"

"Oh, Buck!" Michael knelt beside the poor bed and buried his face in the coverlet. "Oh, Buck! If you'd only had my chance!" he moaned.

"Never you mind, Mikky! I ain't squealin'. I knows how to take my dose. An'

mebbe, they'll be some kind of a collidge whar I'm goin', at I kin get a try at yet--don't you fret, little pard--ef I git my chancet I'll take it fer your sake!"

The life breath seemed to be spent with the effort and Buck sank slowly into unconsciousness and so pa.s.sed out of a life that had been all against him.

Michael after doing all the last little things that were permitted him, sadly took his way home again.

He reached the city in the morning and spent several hours putting to rights his business affairs; but by noon he found himself so unutterably weary that he took the two o'clock train down to the farm. Sam met him at the station. Sam somehow seemed to have an intuition when to meet him, and the two gripped hands and walked home together across the salt gra.s.s, Michael telling in low, halting tones all that Buck had said. Sam kept his face turned the other way, but once Michael got a view of it and he was sure there were tears on his cheeks. To think of Sam having tears for anything!

Arrived at the cottage Sam told him he thought that Mr. Endicott was taking his afternoon nap upstairs, and that Miss Endicott had gone to ride with "some kind of a fancy woman in a auto" who had called to see her.

Being very weary and yet unwilling to run the risk of waking Mr. Endicott by going upstairs, Michael asked Sam to bolt the dining-room door and give orders that he should not be disturbed for an hour; then he lay down on the leather couch in the living-room.

The windows were open all around and the sweet breath of the opening roses stole in with the summer breeze, while the drone of bees and the pure notes of a song sparrow lulled him to sleep.

CHAPTER XXIX

Michael had slept perhaps an hour when he was roused by the sound of voices, a sharp, hateful one with an unpleasant memory in it, and a sweet, dear one that went to his very soul.

"Sit down here, Aunt Frances. There is no one about: Papa is asleep and Michael has not yet returned from a trip out West. You can talk without fear of being heard."

"Michael, Michael!" sniffed the voice. "Well, that's what I came to talk to you about. I didn't want to say anything out there where the chauffeur could hear; he is altogether too curious and might talk with the servants about it. I wouldn't have it get out for the world. Your mother would have been mortified to death about all this, and I can't see what your father is thinking about. He never did seem to have much sense where you were concerned--!"

"Aunt Frances!"

"Well, I can't help it. He doesn't. Now take this matter of your being down here, and the very thought of you're calling that fellow Michael,--as if he were a cousin or something! Why, it's simply disgusting! I hoped you were going to stay out West until your father was well enough to go away somewhere with you; but now that you have come back I think you ought to leave here at once. People will begin to talk, and I don't like it. Why, the fellow will be presuming on it to be intimate with you--"'

Michael was suddenly roused to the fact that he was listening to a conversation not intended for his ears, and yet he had no way of getting out of hearing without pa.s.sing the door in the front of which the two women were seated. Both the dining-room, door and the stairs were on the other side of the room from him and he would have to run the risk of being seen, by either or both of them if he attempted to cross to them. The windows were screened by wire nailed over the whole length, so he could not hope to get successfully out of any of them. There was nothing for it but to lie still, and pretend to be asleep if they discovered him afterwards. It was an embarra.s.sing situation but it was none of his choosing.

There was a slight stir outside, Starr had risen, and was standing with her back to the doorway.

"Aunt Frances! What do you mean? Michael is our honored and respected friend, our protector--our--host. Think what he did for papa! Risked his life!"