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It was one of the old High School yells of the good old Gridley days -one of the yells sometimes used as a signal of distress by famous old Dick & Co., of which Tom Reade had been a shining member. On the still air of the mountain night that yell traveled far and clearly. It was a call of penetrating power, traveling farther than its sound would suggest.
"And speaking of strangers," muttered Reade, glancing off down the driveway, "there's the identical stranger, at this moment talking with the soldiers halted by the gate." Almost as though he had heard himself called the stranger glanced up at the group on the porch, then came forward. He walked briskly, despite his lean, wasted frame. "How?
"Your freezing to death in a gale of snow wouldn't help matters any." "But I must get to Dugout," Tom pleaded. "You won't try it unless you're crazy," Jim retorted. "If you make an attempt to stir from camp this afternoon, Reade, I'll call on the men to hold you down until I can tie you.
At that time every candidate was supposed to be able to repeat, by heart, the "Thirty-Nine Articles." Reade had no taste for memorizing; and out of the whole thirty-nine he had learned but three. His general examination was good, though not brilliant.
"Doc, I'm looking for the place where the ice cream flows," Reade hinted. "Can I tempt you?" "Without half trying," laughed Dr. Furniss the young physician who had gone out to camp to attend the Man-killer victim. As they were seated together over their ice cream, Dr. Furniss inquired: "By the way, do you ever see my one-time patient nowadays?" "The fellow we exhumed from the Man-killer?"
"Here is something that concerns you, Rodney," he said. "It doesn't appear to be from a friend of yours." With some curiosity Rodney took the letter and read it. It ran thus: Mr. JOHN SARGENT: DEAR SIR I think it my duty to write and tell you something about your son's tutor something that will surprise and shock you. Before he entered your house he was employed by a firm on Reade Street.
"Then we'd be going back to Dugout City with you." "Why, Reade?" "So that we might get in touch with the world and find out whether you are financially responsible. We wouldn't take an engagement without being reasonably sure of our money." "You're a sharp one," laughed Mr. Dunlop. Yet he made no further reference to engaging the two young engineers, a fact that Reade was keen enough to note.
"Will you help to hide me here, and then go away and be silent?" "Go away and leave you here?" suggested Reade. "Yes, senor. It will be a great favor." "It would be murder," Tom retorted. "Man, you're ill and you need care nursing. I don't know much about doctoring, but if you have any reason why you don't want Don Luis to know you're here, then I'll do the best I can for you here.
Don't try to talk, now. We're taking good care of you, and we'll keep on the job day and night. You've had some medicine, though you didn't know it. Now, try to sleep, if you can." But Hazelton couldn't sleep. He tossed restlessly, his face aflame with fever. Jim Ferrers came back with the supper, but Reade could eat very little of it. Alf Drew did not return.
Voltaire frankly confesses that the French have not a genius for great poetry, too much in love, he says, with exactness and elegance. I have read through "Very Hard Cash;" and very hard it is to read. Reade has some pretty remarkable powers, powers of description and of characterization; but the moment he touches the social relations, and should be dramatic, he is struck with total incapacity.
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