By carefully questioning his nurse, the Wolf, who was not so badly hurt as it was at first thought, found out that the Weasel was his next door neighbor. That question settled, the Wolf settled himself to the task of getting well. In a few days to the amazement of those attending him, he was able to sit up.
They commenced leaving him alone for an hour or so at a time.
Two days more, wrapped in a heavy bathrobe, he was lifted into a reclining chair, and allowed to look out of the window. How could the nurse guess that the moment she left, her helpless patient rose to his feet and falteringly at first, moved here and there about the room, stopping every moment or two to rest? When she returned she found him quietly seated, resting, as she had left him. He did indeed look tired and pale, so she hurried him back to bed. The next day and the next this was repeated. Then came his chance. His nurse was going to a lecture in the a.s.sembly room on the first floor. She would be gone a couple of hours.
She placed the Wolf in his chair by the window, looked at his bandages, set a bell beside him, and left a pile of magazines on the wide window sill at his elbow. Then, with repeated warnings to rest and not overdo, she left him.
As soon as he heard the last light pad-pad of the girl"s rubber-heeled shoes, the Wolf stood up. He stood firmly. He tied the bathrobe about him and went to the door. There he waited, listening. All was quiet. He opened the door a little.
As he did so, a nurse and a doctor came out of the Weasel"s room, went slowly down the ball, and turned into a room at the corner.
The Wolf listened more intently still, and went out into the hall. Between the room occupied by the Wolf and the one where the Weasel lay, there was a s.p.a.ce. A table and a chair stood there. It was where the night nurse sat. On it was a writing tablet, pens, ink, and a couple of little bottles. One of them caught the eye of the Wolf. The blue color of the gla.s.s told him that it was a deadly poison even before lie read the label. He put it in his pocket.
Then he gently turned the handle of the door, and went in. For a moment he thought the room was empty. The shade at the window was drawn closed. The Wolf swept the room with a swift glance then his eyes rested on the bed.
Ah! Did you start then, ever so slightly, you cruel killer, you merciless destroyer? What good now is the blue vial in your pocket? Of what use the clenched fist, and writhing, clutching fingers? You have come too late, Wolf; you have lost your poor too! Look and look and look again at that peaceful bed. See how straight the sheet is and how decently it is drawn up. Go over, Wolf, and draw it down and see what it covers! Hurry, Wolf, because you have but little time to remain undisturbed! Already the nurse and doctor have finished making their report; already a narrow, white stretcher is being prepared.
For the last time in all your wicked life, black murder filled your heart, Wolf, but the Weasel has escaped you. The Wolf put the sheet back over the dead face of the Weasel and grating his teeth, stepped softly to the door. He slipped into the hall, but as he did so, he heard low voices, and instead of turning toward his own room, he went in the opposite direction where he saw a stairway. Unfortunately for him, the stairs led up instead of down. Slowly, silently, he climbed them; but not before he thought he heard a low exclamation from below. For some unforeseen reason the nurse and doctor had looked in the Wolf"s room to see how he was getting on. The room of course was empty, and the Wolf knew a search would begin at once. How he cursed his fate that he was dressed only in his underwear and bathrobe!
It would take a clever man indeed to escape in such garments.
And escape he must. The Weasel was dead. He had killed him, and no one knew better than the Wolf that he would be made to pay the whole penalty. Adolph was dead, the Weasel was dead, Ledermann had jumped into the river to escape his pursuers and had drowned.
And here was he, the Wolf, trapped-at bay. He slipped into the first door at hand. It was a large hall used for a gymnasium for the nurses. There were steps at the door. He looked about.
There was not a place to hide. Hurrying to the window as fast as his feeble strength would permit, he raised the sash and looked out. There, outside the window, was a fire-escape. Without an instant"s hesitation, he stepped out and placed his slippered foot on the narrow tread of the iron ladder. His head was swimming from weakness. He heard an exclamation from above and looked up.
For an instant he made out the faces of the nurse and doctor against the sky above him. Then the nurse disappeared, and the doctor stepped out on the sill. He was going to follow; the nurse had gone for help. There was one thing to do: hurry--hurry!
Once more the Wolf looked up at his pursuer. He laughed his own sneering, cruel laugh. The ladder seemed to swing and sway dizzily. It was like being at the top of a tall mast in a heavy sea. He clutched the ladder. Then everything grew dark, guns boomed in his ears, his grasp loosened and the last long night and the last long silence wrapped him like a cloak.
The Weasel had bitten to the bone.
Crushed and mangled, they lifted the Wolf from the pavement five stories below, and taking him into the hospital once more for a little while, laid him in the chamber of death beside the stretcher where the Weasel rested with that new look in his face.
But the nurse who had cared for the Weasel knew the manner of his going, and rolled his stretcher away across the room. She would not let him lie even in death beside the other.
The very next afternoon the telephone rang.
Mrs. Potter and Beany and Asa listened, while Porky said, "Yes, sir," a dozen times and "All right, sir," until Beany twitched with nervous excitement.
When he put up the receiver, everybody said, "Well?" at the same time.
Porky went over and kissed his mother. It was real easy to do, those days. A fellow wanted to kiss his mother.
"Well?" said everybody again.
Timmins hovered in the doorway.
"To-morrow," said Porky with a sort of solemnity.
No one spoke. Then "What time?" said Beany.
"Six o"clock, morning," answered Porky.
"You know, mom, there"s no chance of our getting hurt," said Beany.
"How you do talk!" said Mrs. Potter. She did not look up, however. She was finishing the second sweater, and gave it her whole attention.
"Naw!" said Porky. "Not a chance in the world! We will be home before you know it, with a lot of good stories to tell you.
Perhaps we will bring you some loot. Wouldn"t you like something to remember the War by?"
"Just you look out for yourselves," said Mrs. Potter. "I"d like a couple of boys sent home safe and sound. That"s what I"d like to remember things by." She stabbed the needles through her knitting and, rising, left the room. The boys looked after her.
Beany made a move to follow, but his brother pushed him back.
"Let her alone," he said. "She likes to be brave."
That evening pa.s.sed like lightning, although all the traps had been ready for days. Gladdis, the cook, had baked them a wonderful fruit cake, and Mr. Leffingwell came home with four new comfort kits and a portable typewriter for each one--a little typewriter that would go in one end of a suit-case.
Everybody seemed more than happy, quite noisy, in fact. There was not a moment when anybody felt the least bit--the least bit-- well, you know! That is, not a moment except just at bedtime.
Then Mrs. Potter came into the boys" room, and gave them each a little, thin package. She just handed it to them and kissed them goodnight, and went out.
"Let"s see what they are," said Porky. There were two little leather cases. Inside were Mom Potter"s pretty, motherly dear face, and pop"s splendid, homely countenance. Porky jerked out the light.
The following morning, Mr. Leffingwell"s car, crowded with the whole family, was the first to arrive at the station. The Potter boys wandered restlessly about until Colonel Bright, followed by his wife and daughter and a j.a.panese house-man loaded with rugs and bags, came breezing in with a hearty greeting for everybody.
Mr. Leffingwell bustled about, tipping everybody he could find to tip. Timmins and the elevator boy took Asa out on the platform and sat him on a truck where he could see everybody the very last minute. And all at once it was the very last minute; and somehow everybody had shaken hands and had talked loudly, and the boys had kissed their mother--a kiss to be remembered, and had swung on board. The train started. The boys strained for one last look at their parents. They thought they smiled.
Asa turned to Timmins.
"Gee, the light hurts a feller"s eyes," he said.
CHAPTER XII
SUNDAY AT SEA
It seemed to the boys as though they could never tire of the novelty and charm of the open sea. By Sunday they had explored the perfect little ship Firefly from stem to stern. They had made friends with every man on board and were in the way of acc.u.mulating a strange a.s.sortment of facts from their new friends.
Sunday services, read by the grizzled old Captain, seemed very solemn and strangely touching. They were held on deck, where the rattling of shrouds and the soft lap of the water made a wonderful accompaniment to the familiar words of the prayer book.
The boys could not help noticing that every man listened closely and respectfully. They joined in the responses, and sang l.u.s.tily when it came time for the hymns.
The Captain did not read a sermon. Instead he closed the book, and for a short five minutes spoke to the men simply, clearly, and to the point. Then there was one more song. Services do not usually end with it; but as the sound rose, the boys thrilled and chilled with patriotism. It was "My Country, "tis of thee" and those men roared it from the depths of their big, honest, loyal hearts.
When the group scattered, Porky and Beany went forward and stood looking into the distance that bid their Great Adventure. That the Adventure was at that moment approaching, drawing nearer and nearer, they did not dream. The sea looked too calm, too serene, to hide such a terror. They were talking about the safe and quiet crossing they were having when Colonel Bright approached.
"What now, my gay young buccaneer?" he asked, stopping and lighting a cigar.
"We were saying what a good old safe trip we are having," said Porky.
The Colonel frowned. "Better say that after we arrive," he said, puffing hard.
"Oh, I"m not afraid!" said Porky.
"Nor me!" added Beany.