Jack Ranger's Gun Club: or, From Schoolroom to Camp and Trail. Young Clarence

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Why, he’s heading for the ravine,” said Jack to himself. “He’ll be lost if he goes there in this storm, and it’s dangerous. He may fall down the chasm and break an arm or a leg.”

      The ravine he referred to was a deep gully in the hills, a wild, desolate sort of place, seldom visited. It was in the midst of thick woods, and more than once solitary travelers had lost their way there, while one or two, unfamiliar with the suddenness with which the chasm dipped down, had fallen and been severely hurt.

      “What in the world can he want out there?” went on Jack. “I’d better hail him. Guess he doesn’t know the danger, especially in a storm like this, when bad holes are likely to be hidden from sight.”

      He hurried forward, and then, making a sort of megaphone of his hands, called out:

      “Williams! I say, Williams, where are you going?”

      The new boy turned quickly, looked back at Jack, and then continued his journey.

      “Hey! Come back!” yelled our hero. “You’ll be lost if you go up in those hills. It’s dangerous! Come on back!”

      Williams stopped again, and turned half around.

      “Guess he didn’t hear me plainly,” thought Jack. “I’ll catch up to him. Wait a minute,” he called again, and he hastened forward, Will waiting for him.

      “Where are you going?” asked Jack, when he had caught up to him.

      “I don’t know,” was the answer, and Jack was struck by the lad’s despondent tone.

      “Don’t you know there’s a dangerous ravine just ahead here?” went on Jack. “You might tumble in and lose your life.”

      “I don’t care if I do lose my life,” was the unexpected rejoinder.

      “You don’t care?” repeated Jack, much surprised.

      “No.”

      “Do you realize what you’re saying?” asked Jack sternly.

      “Yes, I do. I don’t care! I want to be lost! I never want to see any one again! I came out here – I don’t care what becomes of me – I’d like to fall down under the snow and – and die – that would end it all!”

      Then, to Jack’s astonishment, Will burst into tears, though he bravely tried to stifle them.

      “Well – of all the – ” began Jack, and words failed him. Clearly he had a most peculiar case to deal with. He took a step nearer, and put his arm affectionately around Will’s shoulder. Then he patted him on the back, and his own voice was a trifle husky as he said:

      “Say, old man, what’s the matter? Own up, now, you’re in trouble. Maybe I can help you. It doesn’t take half an eye to see that’s something’s wrong. The idea of a chap like you wanting to die! It’s nonsense. You must be sick. Brace up, now! Tell me all about it. Maybe I can help you.”

      There was silence, broken only by Will’s half-choked sobs.

      “Go ahead, tell me,” urged Jack. “I’ll keep your secret, and help you if I can. Tell me what the trouble is.”

      “I will!” exclaimed the new boy with sudden determination. “I will tell you, Jack Ranger, but I don’t think you can help me. I’m the most miserable lad at Washington Hall.”

      “You only think so,” rejoined Jack brightly. “Go ahead. I’ll wager we can make you feel better. You want some friends, that’s what you want.”

      “Yes,” said Will slowly, “I do. I need friends, for I don’t believe I’ve got a single one in the world.”

      “Well, you’ve got one, and that’s me,” went on Jack. “Go ahead, now, let’s hear your story.”

      And then, standing in the midst of the storm, Will told his pitiful tale.

      “My father and mother have been dead for some time,” he said, “and for several years I lived with my uncle, Andrew Swaim, my mother’s brother. He was good to me, but he had to go out West on business, and he left me in charge of a man named Lewis Gabel, who was appointed my guardian.

      “This Gabel treated me pretty good at first, for my uncle sent money regularly for my board. Then, for some reason, the money stopped coming, and Mr. Gabel turned mean. He hardly gave me enough to eat, and I had to work like a horse on his farm. I wrote to my uncle, but I never got an answer.

      “Then, all at once, my uncle began sending money again, but he didn’t state where he was. After that I had it a little easier, until some one stole quite a sum from Mr. Gabel. He’s a regular miser, and he loves money more than anything else. He accused me of robbing him, and declared he wouldn’t have me around his house any longer.

      “So he sent me off to this school, but he doesn’t give me a cent of spending money, and pays all the bills himself. He still thinks I stole his money, and he says he will hold back my spending cash, which my uncle forwards, until he has made up the amount that was stolen.

      “I tried to prove to him that I was innocent, but he won’t believe me. He is always writing me mean letters, reminding me that I am a thief, and not fit for decent people to associate with. I’m miserable, and I wish I was dead. I got a mean, accusing letter from him to-day, and it made me feel so bad that I didn’t care what became of me. I wandered off, and I thought if I fell down and died under the snow it would be a good thing.”

      “Say, you certainly are up against it,” murmured Jack. “I’d like to get hold of that rascally guardian of yours. But why don’t you tell your uncle?”

      “I can’t, for I don’t know his address.”

      “But he sends money for your schooling and board to Mr. Gabel, doesn’t he?”

      “Yes, but he sends cash in a letter, and he doesn’t even register it. I wrote to the postal authorities of the Western city where his letters were mailed, but they said they could give me no information.”

      “What is your uncle doing in the West?”

      “He is engaged in some secret mission. I never could find out what it is, and I don’t believe Mr. Gabel knows, either. Oh, but Gabel is a mean man! He seems to take delight in making me miserable. Now you know why I act so queerly. I like a good time, and I like to be with the fellows, but I haven’t a cent to spend to treat them with, and I’m not going to accept favors that I can’t return. Why, I haven’t had a cent to spend for myself in six months!”

      Jack whistled.

      “That’s tough,” he said. “But say, Will, you’re mistaken if you think our crowd cares anything for money. Why didn’t you say something about this before?”

      “I – I was ashamed to.”

      “Why, we thought you didn’t like us,” went on Jack. “Now I see that we were mistaken. I wish we had Mr. Gabel here. We’d haze him first, and throw him into the lake afterward. Now, Will, I’ll tell you what you’re going to do?”

      “What?” asked the lad, who seemed much better in spirits, now that he had made a confession.

      “In СКАЧАТЬ