Shorty subsided; he had not expected this, and, truth to tell, he felt at that moment that his sneers had accomplished precisely the opposite effect to what he had intended; but Hal made no comment until just before they got into their beds; then he said evenly:
"Shorty, you and I are room-mates, we have been pals for over a year; we won"t discuss s.h.a.g Larocque, for I see that we shall never agree about him."
"I hate a mongrel," sniffed Shorty; "this fellow is neither Indian nor white."
"He"s more Indian than white, and better for it, too," said Hal; "but, I say, Shorty--what nationality was your father?"
"Irish," said Shorty, with some pride.
"And your mother?" persisted Hal relentlessly.
"Oh, mother"s parents were English; she was born here in Canada,"
replied Shorty a little weakly.
"Oh!" was all Hal said, but it held a world of meaning.
"Now, see here, Hal," began Shorty apologetically, "I know what you are thinking, but I"m British right through and my skin"s white, no matter how you take it. I"m white on both sides of the family; I"m not splashed with tinted blood like this fellow from the North-West that"s strayed in here; his skin"s almost yellow."
"Yes," acquiesced Hal, "his skin is tinted--it is tinted, not tainted.
There"s a big difference, Shorty. Do you know, I"d give the world if I had as much of a copper-colored tint to my skin as s.h.a.g has."
"Rot!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Shorty.
"No rot at all," cut in Hal; "I love the Indian people. You call this chap a "mongrel," but I tell you he is Indian--anyone can see it, and I know it. His father may have cooked in camp for my father, and did so, but from what my father told me, he, French Pete, was an honest man, and a brave one, too, and his son"s good enough for me, and I"m his friend until the last dog"s hung."
That ended things for the time, for the college bells clanged out "lights out," and the inmates, both white and Indian, slept.
"Yes, my dear boy," wrote Sir George, some weeks later, "by all means bring young Larocque home for the Easter vacation; I shall welcome the son of my old friend and guide with the greatest delight. I have frequently told you of French Pete"s heroism and unselfishness, and if by a little hospitality I can show the son what I think of the father, I shall regard it as a privilege. Your dear mother will write you to-night, and will enclose a little note of invitation from us both to your friend "s.h.a.gganappi"--how that good old North-West word brings back my youth! I think I like your friend, even before I see him, just because he has adopted that name."
So it was all arranged that s.h.a.g should spend the Easter vacation at the palatial home of the Benningtons in Montreal. As Hal was so popular, this holiday invitation was always regarded as the greatest compliment by any boy who was fortunate enough to receive it, but never before had Lady Bennington written personally to invite one of Hal"s friends.
It was such a dear little note, too; Hal never admired his mother quite so much as when s.h.a.g handed him the invitation to read. Lady Bennington was famous as one of the few women who always say and do the right thing at the right moment. The note ran:
"Dear s.h.a.gganappi,-- "Do come with my boy at Eastertide; we want you--come.
"Your friend, Hal"s mother, "CONSTANCE BENNINGTON."
So Easter found the boys at Montreal, s.h.a.g a little shy at first amidst all the grandeur and wealth of Hal"s home, but covering that shyness with a quiet dignity that sat very well on his young shoulders. With a wonderful knack of delicacy, Hal would smooth out any threatened difficulty for the Indian boy--little table entanglements, such as new dishes or unaccustomed foods. But s.h.a.g was at times surprisingly outspoken, and the first night at dinner seemingly won Sir George"s heart by remarking when the fruit plates and finger-gla.s.ses were served, "Now, Hal, don"t be afraid that I won"t understand this; fortunately I dined on the dining-cars on the way East." Everyone laughed then, including s.h.a.g, and Sir George said, "Then you are better up in things than I was at your age, my boy. I never saw a finger-gla.s.s until I was twenty." So this little confidence put them all on a kind of family footing; and during the rest of his visit s.h.a.g was not afraid to ask and learn any of the usages of wealthy city houses and manners that might puzzle him. When he left he had endeared himself to Hal"s parents as no other boy had done before. Lady Bennington especially seemed to have become attached to him. Once when Hal was taking some snapshots of the grounds, she called s.h.a.g to her side, and, placing one hand on his shoulder, asked Hal to photograph them together. s.h.a.g almost trembled with pleasure, but his delight knew no bounds when a week after their return to school he received a little copy of the photograph framed in silver and inscribed on the back with "To s.h.a.gganappi Larocque, with love from Hal"s mother."
"I don"t know why you and your people are so good to me," he declared to Hal, when they both had duly admired the little picture. Hal stared at him rather oddly, but did not reply, and it was many months before s.h.a.g understood what that look meant; but when it was explained the Indian recalled many things that had once perplexed him.
It was late in May when Sir George and Lady Bennington left on their yearly visit to England, leaving Hal with the enviable holiday ahead of him of playing host at their summer residence in the Thousand Islands.
He was privileged to ask what boys he liked; he could have his own canoe and sailboat, any of the servants from the city residence that he wished, and just put in one long, golden summer, swimming, boating, rollicking around, getting tanned and healthy. The only stipulation his parents made was that in addition to the crowd of boys asked he must invite one of the masters. It did not matter which one, so what did Hal do but "cheek it up" to the Head, who had no family to summer with, and who usually wandered off to some lonely mountain resort by himself for the entire vacation. Professor Warwick was amazed.
"Why, Bennington," he exclaimed, "what ever do you want an old codger like me for? There"s young Graham, almost a boy himself, and Lewes, the science man, a funny chap. I always think Mr. Lewes is more fun than a cage of cats. I"m a dried-up old fellow that most of the boys are afraid of. You won"t enjoy yourself with me around all the time."
"We"re only afraid of you in cla.s.ses, sir," laughed Hal; "no one is afraid of you outside. I"ve heard the boys josh you on the ball grounds and at the sports no end of times. You"ve just got to come, Professor!"
And the old gentleman did go, to the delight of Hal"s parents, who left for England perfectly satisfied that the boys would be well looked after if the Professor was an inmate of their island home.
The party was just about the right size; two of the little boys who lived at the Pacific coast were asked, then Shorty and Cop and little chunky Johnny Miller and s.h.a.g Larocque--seven all told, including Hal, and eight, counting the Professor, who, on the first night in camp said, a little gravely, "Hal, my boy, it is a great privilege to be the son of a wealthy man. I have never cared for money, but I would like to be in a position where I could have the pleasure of entertaining my friends in this delightful way."
"I hope I appreciate it, Professor," replied the boy. "Dad is always reminding me of the stacks of people not so well fixed as we are. He frequently tells me of the times when he went hungry--really hungry, without twenty-five cents with which to buy a meal, and he says if ever I forget it and try to put on "side" that he will thrash me within an inch of my life, even after I am twenty-one."
The Professor roared, a regular boyish shout. "And he"d do it, too, I believe," he chuckled. "That is what makes Sir George so wonderful; with all his wealth he is the same dear old chap he always was. I knew him when he was your age almost--and the only thing about him that has changed is his hair; it is a little thinner now--and grey."
"Yes, dad"s a boy yet," smiled Hal, "but I won"t give him a chance to lick me on the money score; it"s too good fun having you all here, and a royal holiday ahead of us, without hunting for a tr.i.m.m.i.n.g from dad because I play the la-de-da or think I"m the whole thing."
s.h.a.g was thinking hard, but he said nothing; yet, little as he knew of the world, he was quite aware how few boys in Hal"s position would act as he had done. Had it not been for Sir George"s son what would his life at college have been? He knew Locke never liked him, he knew that Shorty positively disliked him, he knew there was a strong element of prejudice in the school against him, and he knew positively that, were it not for Lord Mortimer"s influence and recommendation, he would never have been accepted in this exclusive college as a student. What then did he owe to Hal? Everything, as far as making life in the East bearable, as far as being received on an equality with the other boys went. It was a tremendous debt that he owed this handsome boy who was his host for the summer. But before the holiday was ended s.h.a.g paid that debt with all his heart, and almost with his life.
It happened one day from the simple cause that the camp had run short of bread, and one of the youngsters from the Pacific coast, Freddy by name, had volunteered to paddle over to the mainland for it. The sailboat being laid up for repairs, Freddy ran out the light little Peterborough, and was just getting away from the island when Hal descried him and shouted to him to wait. "Think I"d let you go alone in that canoe, kiddie?" he asked. "There"s too much wind to-day; look at her sweep down the north channel. Why, she"d turn you round and round like "Willie waltzing." Hold on, I"m coming with you." With that he sprang into the canoe and they were away.
It was rather a cold wind for early September, and the two boys were glad to paddle hard to keep their circulation up. Both were in shirt sleeves and both somewhat chilled; but by the time they had reached the mainland they were all tingling with rioting blood and with appet.i.tes ready to attack their cargo of bread, even minus the b.u.t.ter. They started back in good shape, although Hal"s weather eye observed that the wind was picking up and that they would have to work for it to make the island in good time for supper. All went well for some distance, although sometimes the waves galloped up and slipped over the bow where Freddy knelt, plying his paddle in good form. Out in mid-stream, with both wind and current against him, Hal had considerable difficulty in steering; his strong, muscular arms pulled little Freddy"s stroke around, and he bent to the work of "digging potatoes" with a vengeance.
The bow with its light boyish ballast would rise and rise again, slapping down on the surface or taking the waves like a cork. Then came a line of combers, one on top of another. The taut little Peterborough rode the first like a sh.e.l.l, the second she dipped, the third she shipped a whole bucketful of water. As it poured over the deck, little Freddy flung himself backward to escape the drenching, the canoe dipped, Freddy landed full weight on the leeward gunwale--and they were over.
For the first instant, Hal was conscious of but one thing, that he was being struck through with the chill of the water on top of being in a heat of perspiration with battling the canoe through the waves. Then he came to the surface to see the canoe, turned turtle, floating bottom up three yards away. Then a limp ma.s.s of brown clothes and brown curls cannoned into him, and reaching out, he grasped Freddy.
"Don"t get scared, kid," he gasped, spluttering the water out of his throat; "keep cool and don"t clutch me too tight." He might as well have spoken to the winds, for little Freddy, chilled through and terror-stricken, was clinging to him like an octopus, impeding his arm and leg action, and almost choking the breath out of his lungs. "Oh, Hal, we"re in mid-stream!" gulped the child; "we"ll be drowned!"
"Not on your life, kiddie!" spluttered Hal. "I"ll get that bally canoe.
Only don"t hold on around my neck, that"s a good kiddie. There, that"s better," as Freddy loosened his fingers from Hal"s shirt collar, and the boy struck out with one arm around the child and the other working for all the grit and muscle there was in it. His magnificent stroke, helped by the wind and current, soon overhauled the canoe. By a supreme effort he clutched the immersed gunwale. With one arm around Freddy he could never hope to right the boat, but even bottom up she was a salvation.
"Grip her, kiddie, grip her as I shove you up," he gasped, "and don"t let go; straddle her and hang on! Promise me you will hang on,--promise me!" he cried.
"I"ll promise," gulped the child. Then Hal"s powerful arm flung itself upwards, his two hands "boosted," and Freddy landed on the upturned canoe, gripping it with all fours and coughing the water from his mouth.
Hal made an attempt to climb up, his fingers slipped; then two terrible little demons seemed to grasp the calves of his legs; their fingers ripped the muscles out and tied them into knots, knots that extended to his knees, his hips, his stomach; his fingers weakened with the agony of it--Hal Bennington knew he was going down with cramps.
Away off to the right he thought he heard a voice; it was saying, "Keep up, Hal, keep up, I"m coming!" but he could not answer. With a last effort he literally screamed, "Hang on, Freddy, hang on!" Then he felt numb, very numb, and all was dark.
Professor Warwick had gone out to furl the awnings against the rising wind. His kindly little eyes were peering through their spectacles at sea and sky when suddenly they rested on a frail canoe that was taking an erratic course toward the island. Instantly he was around at the other side of the cottage. "Boys, boys," he shouted frantically, "Quick, get out the sailboat, Hal"s canoe is in danger!"
"Sailboat!" gasped Cop Billings, springing to his feet; "she"s no good; bottom"s out, a whole patch of her. She"s being repaired." But while he talked he was running wildly to the boathouse followed by all the others. As they reached the little wharf they were just in time to see the combers strike the canoe, to see Freddy start, then to see it capsize. For a moment they were horror-stricken, speechless, then Cop yelled, "He"s got Freddy! See, he"s got him!" It seemed an eternity before they saw Hal grasp the child, then with more horror they saw the upturned canoe floating away, away, away.
"Boys, boys, can nothing be done to help them?" choked the Professor.
"Oh, boys, this is terrible!"
"Who swims?" yelled Shorty, "--swims well, I mean."
"You do," jerked s.h.a.g at his elbow, with a face bloodless and drawn.
"You"re the best swimmer in the school. Will you come with me?"
"Come with you?" yelled Shorty. "Out there? Why, you know as well as I do that I can"t swim that far, not nearly that far; neither can you."
"I can, and I will," announced s.h.a.g in a strangely quiet voice, while with rapid fingers he stripped off his coat and boots.
"You shan"t go alone," shouted Cop, beginning to undress; "I"m with you!"