The Wilderness Castaways Part 37

CHAPTER XXII

HOW PAUL AND DAN MADE GOOD

What a journey of joyous antic.i.p.ation, of wondrous realization, that was for the two lads! There was the home-coming in view, with all its plans; there was the present, a wholly novel experience for Dan, who had never before ridden upon a railway train, and it was little less enjoyed by Paul, who a.s.sumed the position of a traveler of experience, and directed their affairs between sleeper and dining car--they never failed to respond to the first call to meals, and they invariably astonished the waiters with the quant.i.ties of good things they consumed.

Between meals they reclined luxuriously in their seats in the sleeping car, while they talked and planned, and enjoyed the fleeting vista of landscape.

"A train's sure a strange craft," remarked Dan one morning. "She can beat a vessel for goin', but for steady cruisin', now, I'm thinkin' I likes a vessel most. I'd like wonderful well t' have a bit of a walk, but they ain't no deck."

"You'll have a chance to walk when we reach Toronto, and we'll be there pretty soon," promised Paul. "Father'll meet us there, and I do hope Mother will too. I'm crazy to see them. Don't it give you a dandy feeling to know how near home we are and getting nearer every minute!"

"I'm wantin' wonderful bad t' get home too," admitted Dan. "How long'll it be takin' me, now, from New York?"

"I don't know exactly, but three or four days, I guess. Why, Dan, this must be Toronto now," said Paul. "The porter's coming with his brush to clean us up."

It was Toronto, and the lads, in a state of suppressed excitement, were the first to leave the train. Densmore and Remington were in the front line of those awaiting arriving friends. They had left Mrs.

Densmore in the motor car that had brought them from the hotel, but her impatience got the better of her, and she came rushing down to join them and was the first to see Paul.

"Oh, my boy!" she cried, as he ran to her open arms, and, laughing and crying, she hugged him to her quite unconscious of the gaping crowd.

Then Densmore and Remington greeted him and he introduced Dan to his father and mother.

The motor car carried them to the King Edward Hotel, and in the privacy of their apartment Mrs. Densmore had to cry some more over Paul.

"How brown you are," she said finally, holding him at arm's length and looking at him admiringly, "and how big and strong and healthy you look! I actually believe it's done you good."

"It has," admitted Paul. "I'm a lot stronger than I used to be, and I've learned to do things, too. But I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Dan," and he proceeded to tell briefly the story of their adventures, heaping upon Dan so much credit that the latter's modesty forced him to interject stammering objections now and again. Mrs.

Densmore was highly incensed at Factor MacTavish's treatment of them, and the fact that Paul had actually been forced to work at manual labor for his living shocked her terribly, but brought a twinkle of downright satisfaction to Densmore's eyes.

It was a happy party that boarded the train that evening for New York.

Dan was exceedingly shy at first, but he was soon made to feel that he was one of them and presently felt quite at ease. Remington, entirely forgiven by Mrs. Densmore, was jolly as he could be, and declared that Paul had far outstripped him as a sportsman, and when Paul and he went together again on an expedition, as they surely must, Paul would be the teacher and he the pupil.

Densmore's big touring car was waiting for them when the train drew into the Grand Central Station at eight o'clock in the morning. Here Dr. Philpot bade them adieu as they sped away toward Riverside Drive.

"It's great to be back in New York!" declared Paul. "Lots of times I wondered if I'd ever get home again."

His mother pressed his hand but did not trust herself to speak.

"Here we are! That's our house, Dan!" said Paul gaily, as the car drew in behind a cab standing at the curb. A man, his back turned toward them, stood on the sidewalk engaged in a heated controversy with the cabman. When the car stopped they heard him saying, in loud, gruff tones:

"You're a pirate, sir! Yes, sir, a pirate! You deserve to have your neck wrung! By the imps of the sea! You deserve to have your neck wrung! But here's your money! Take it! Take it! Take it! Four times what the cruise were worth! Yes, four times! Get away with your old craft! Get away!"

"'Tis the skipper! 'Tis the skipper, sure!" exclaimed Dan, highly excited.

The two boys sprang from the car without ceremony and ran to Captain Bluntt, who, indeed, it was, as he turned to survey his surroundings, his bushy red beard bristling in indignation.

"By the imps of the sea!" he exclaimed. "'Tis the youngsters!" He grasped a hand of each, the look of indignation in his face giving place to one of high pleasure. "You rascals! You rascals! Is this two o'clock? Weren't I telling you scamps t' be aboard at two o'clock?

Yes, two o'clock sharp! Two o'clock!"

"How's Mother an' Dad?" asked Dan anxiously.

"Well. Very well, last I heard from un. Gone in mournin' for you. Yes, you rascal! Gone in mournin' for you! Hard blow, your death was to un!

Hard blow! Yes, you rascal! How do, Mr. Remington? How do? Glad to see you! Happier times than when we sees each other last!"

"Captain Bluntt, this is my mother and this is my father," broke in Paul, introducing them.

"Glad to know you, Madam," and the Captain bowed low. "Glad to know you, sir. Had to come on when I got your telegram! Had to see the young rascals! Had to see 'em, and take Dan to his folks myself!"

"It's a very great pleasure to meet you, Captain Bluntt," said Mrs.

Densmore, extending her hand to him. "Paul has been telling me a great deal of you since yesterday."

Densmore shook the Captain's hand cordially.

"You'll have to remain with us a few days, Captain. Paul won't part from Dan, you know, until he shows him something of the city!"

And as Captain Bluntt would not think of enduring a return journey by train, and he was compelled to wait three days for the St. Johns steamer, he accepted their hospitality. Every day during their stay was filled with sightseeing, with evenings at the theater, and a new world was opened for Dan.

Paul declined to permit Dan to bear any part of the expense incurred after their arrival in Winnipeg, and Densmore supplied both Dan and Captain Bluntt with their transportation home, and upon Paul's suggestion presented Dan with a new rifle and shotgun just like Paul's.

Finally, when sailing day arrived, Densmore, Paul and Remington saw them off, and the lads parted regretfully.

"You're the best fellow I ever knew," declared Paul, as they shook hands, "and we'll always be chums."

"An' I hopes," said Dan, "we may be takin' a cruise together again sometime."

The lines were thrown off, the active little tugs began puffing and sputtering, and slowly the steamer drew away from her wharf, Paul and Dan waving their caps as long as they could see each other.

Paul and his father were together a good deal in the days that followed. Densmore would frequently take an afternoon off, and together they would go to the Polo grounds, and father and son would yell and cheer together. Densmore had suddenly developed into a full-fledged baseball fan, and taught Paul his first appreciation of the game. They had long walks in the park these summer evenings, and discussed many things dear to a boy's heart. They became, in fact, inseparable chums.

"Father," said Paul one evening, as they strolled up Riverside Drive toward Grant's Tomb. "I wish I had something to do. I've spent about all the money I got for my furs, and I hate to have to call on you for money that I don't earn. It makes me feel--well, just useless--a sissy."

"What do you want to do?"

"Oh, I don't know--but something. It made me feel so independent to earn my own living while I was away, and to know I earned the money I had when I came back, and I'd like to feel that way all the time. I'm ashamed when I remember how I used to waste money I never earned. Dan always earned his own way."

"You'd better keep at school for awhile, my son. You can't invest your time to better advantage than in obtaining an education."

"Do you think so? It seems to me I'm just wasting time. I might be working the way Dan is and making my own way. I'm sure I could do something."

"What do you think you could do?"

"Oh, I don't know. If it wasn't so far from you and Mother I'd like to spend the winters trapping with Mr. Amesbury. Of course, though, I can't do that. Couldn't I have a job in your office, or get a berth on one of the ships?"

"You might. You could start in at five or six dollars a week. That's the usual thing. In a few years you'd probably be advanced to twenty or twenty-five dollars, and if you were very attentive to business, even more, say fifteen hundred or two thousand a year--and that's a pretty high estimate, for the supply of untrained men is larger than the demand. You'd better keep at school, my son. The college-bred man has a much better chance of success in life than the man who has never been to college. What your future is to be, however, depends upon your own efforts and yourself."