Tom, The Bootblack Part 59

Lloyd looked out to sea. Nothing there but blackness and the dreadful, incessant moaning. The fire was nearly out. What was the use of working all night for people who were away out on their homeward journey, knowing and caring nothing for him? Up at the cottage his mother had a nice fire for him; a warm bed.

He began kicking the embers apart. "It does seem like folly," he said.

But on the other hand, what if the schooner were there still, with nothing but his fire to guide her to safety? There was a chance of that; the merest chance. But there was one.

"I'll stay, Jem. You can go home."

Jem hesitated a moment, and then started at a quick run for home. His steps sounded very dreary, beating along the sh.o.r.e.

Lloyd went to work to collect more wood. He had to grope among the icy ma.s.s along sh.o.r.e to find his way. The tide was rising and the frozen spray half blinded him. Besides, he was not warmly clothed.

Now I am not going to tell you a painful story, so I will not dwell on this long night; the longest in Lloyd Wells' life, perhaps, though he lived to be an old man.

No sound came to him from the sea to show that the schooner was there or that his work was of use. But still he did not once give it up.

All night he groped and tugged at the scattered bits of wood, piled them up, keeping himself in motion, not daring to close his eyes, knowing that if he did he would never waken. All night long.

But at last he stumbled and sank, and did not rise again. The cold and weariness were too much for the lad, if his heart was that of a man.

As he fell he heard a grating sound on the beach--voices--shouts. Was it the schooner? Had he saved them?

He woke in his mother's bed. She was leaning over him, crying, laughing at once. There was a man beside her with his arm about her waist, stooping over Lloyd, patting his pale little face; a tall, bronzed man; but the eyes and mouth were those of the little photograph framed in black that hung over his mother's bed.

Lloyd tried to raise his head. "John," he cried, "O, John."

John took him in his strong arms and cried over him, big man as he was.

"Yes, I've got back, Lloyd. I've had a rough time of it these three years. But I'm home now, with plenty of money in my pocket, thank G.o.d!

And I'll take the load off of your shoulders, my boy, and mother's.

You're going to have time to live like other boys, Lloyd. And we'll begin to-morrow, by keeping such a Christmas as was never known. We'll buy out half the stores in the village."

It was his old way of rattling on, but he could not keep the choking from his throat. Lloyd's mother sat down and held her two boys' hands in hers, and said nothing.

"Were you in the schooner?" asked Lloyd, when he found strength to speak.

"Yes, your fire saved us, Lloyd."

"I am glad of that. I wonder what Jem will say now," laughed Lloyd.

But his mother was thinking how G.o.d had held both her boys in the hollow of His hand that night.

THE END.