Mark Manning's Mission

Mark Manning's Mission
Horatio Alger

Horatio Alger Jr.

Mark Manning's Mission / The Story of a Shoe Factory Boy

CHAPTER I.

THREE YOUNG HUNTERS

Two boys, with guns on their shoulders, were crossing a meadow towards the Pecasset woods. These were situated about a mile from the village, and were quite extensive. The two boys were James Collins and Tom Wyman, the first, the son of a large shoe manufacturer, the other the son of the village postmaster. They were about of a size, and had the appearance of being sixteen years of age. They were very intimate, the second being a satellite of the first, who in right of his father's wealth considered himself the first boy in Pecasset. Tom flattered his vanity by acknowledging his pretensions, and this gave him his position of favorite with the young aristocrat.

"I should like to be a hunter," said Tom, as they walked along.

"A fine hunter you'd be," said James, in a tone by no means complimentary, for he didn't feel it necessary to flatter his humble companion. "You never hit anything, you know."

"Come, James, that's a little too strong," said Tom, in a tone of annoyance. "I don't pretend to be as good a shot as you are, but still I have hit a bird before now."

"When it was perched on a fence, eh?"

"No, on the wing."

"Who saw you do it?"

"I was alone."

"So I thought," said James, laughing.

"I did it, really. Of course I can't shoot as well as you."

"I don't think there is a boy in the village can come up to me in that line," said James.

"Of course not; though Mark Manning isn't a bad shot."

"Mark Manning! He's one of the peggers in my father's shop, isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Son of the poor widow that lives near the schoolhouse?"

"Yes."

"What can he know of gunning? He had better stick to the shop."

"I didn't say he was equal to you," said Tom apologetically, "but I have seen him shoot well."

"Has he a gun of his own?"

"No, but he often gets the loan of Farmer Jones's."

"I suppose he could hit a barn door if he were within fifty feet of it," said James, contemptuously.

Tom was silent. It was not the first time he had noticed how distasteful to James was praise of any other boy.

At this moment, from another direction came a third boy, of about the same size and age as the two already introduced. He also had a gun on his shoulder. He had on a well-worn suit of mixed cloth, which had been darned in one or two places. His face was open and attractive, his form was well-knit and muscular, and he was evidently in vigorous health.

Tom Wyman was the first to notice the newcomer.

"Talk of the—old Harry," he said, "and he is sure to appear."

"What do you mean?" asked James, who had not yet espied the new arrival.

"There's Mark Manning coming towards us."

James condescended to turn his glance in Marks' direction.

"What brings him here, I wonder?" he said, with a curl of the lip.

"The same errand that brings us, I should judge, from the gun on his shoulder," answered Tom.

By this time Mark was within calling distance.

"Hallo, boys!" he said. "Have you shot anything yet?"

"No," answered Tom. "Have you?"

"No, I have only just come."

"Why are you not in the shop?" demanded James, with the air of a young lord.

"Because we work only half-time to-day."

"I suppose you were glad of the holiday?"

"No, I would rather have worked. Half-work, half-pay, you know."

"I suppose that's quite an important consideration for a—a working boy like you," drawled James, with an air of patronage.

Mark surveyed James, with a quizzical smile, for he had a genuine boy's disdain for affectation, and James was a very good specimen of a self-conceited dude, though the latter term had not yet come into use.

"Yes," he said, after a slight pause, "it is a consideration—to a working boy like me."

"How much now does my father pay you?" inquired James, with gracious condescension.

"Seventy-five cents a day—that's the average."

"Very fair pay! I suppose you take it home to your mother?"

"Yes, I do," answered Mark.