Walter Sherwood's Probation

“What, after midnight?”

“Yes. It is hardly necessary to explain what happened. Here I am!”

“Ah, my friend,” said the professor, “this may be fortunate for you, if it leads you to consider and reflect upon the errors of your life.”

“Oh, stow that!” exclaimed Ranney, in disgust. “I’m not that kind of a man. I follow my own course and take the consequences.”

The professor shook his head sadly and went out. Later, when he heard what had happened, he said to Walter: “If that man had come into my room at midnight I should have died of fright.”

“There was no occasion to be alarmed,” returned Walter, “We were prepared for him.”

“I—I am afraid I was never cut out for a hero,” said the professor. “My nervous system is easily upset.”

The plain truth was that Professor Robinson was a born coward, though he was stronger and more muscular, probably, than Grant, Sherman or Sheridan. But it is not brawn and muscle that make a hero, but the spirit that animates the man, and of this spirit the professor had very little. Yet in after years when he had retired from business and was at leisure to live over again his past life, he used to tell with thrilling effect how he and Walter had trapped and captured the daring outlaw, Dick Ranney, and received admiring compliments upon his courage and prowess, which he complacently accepted, though he knew how little he deserved them.

It so chanced that Stilwell was the county seat and court was in session at that time, and nearly ready to wind up its business. It was owing to this circumstance that the trial of Dick Ranney was held at once. By request Walter and the professor remained to bear testimony against the prisoner, and Manning also strengthened the case against him. Within less than a week the trial was concluded, a verdict of guilty was brought in, and the prisoner sentenced to a ten years’ term of imprisonment.

Dick Ranney heard the sentence with philosophical calmness.

“My good friend,” said the professor, “I trust that in your long years of confinement you will reflect upon—”

“Don’t worry about that,” interrupted Dick. “I sha’n’t be in prison three months.”

“But I thought—”

“Bolts and bars can be broken, professor. When I do get out I will inquire what part of the country you are in and will make you a visit.”

This promise, so far from cheering Professor Robinson, seemed to disconcert him extremely, and he shortened his talk with his road acquaintance.

After the trial was over Walter was waited upon by an official, who tendered him the reward of one thousand dollars offered for the capture of Dick Ranney.

“Mr. Manning has waived his claim in your favor,” explained the official, “and therefore there is no question that to you belongs the reward.”

“There are two others whose services deserve recognition,” said Walter; “the two constables who made the arrest.”

“There is no additional sum at our command,” explained the official.

“None is needed,” returned Walter. “I shall pay each a hundred dollars out of the reward which has been awarded to me.”

It is needless to say that the two constables, both of whom were poor men with large families, were very grateful for this substantial recognition of their services.

CHAPTER XXVIII

WALTER GOES OUT OF BUSINESS

By the time Walter received his prize of eight hundred dollars he had saved enough out of his wages to make nearly a thousand. He reflected with pride that this money had not been left him, but was the fruit of his own exertions. He resolved to say nothing in his letters home of his good fortune, but wait till he returned, when he would have the pleasure of taking his guardian by surprise.

A day later he received a letter from Doctor Mack, which had been forwarded from one place to another, and was now nearly three weeks old.

It ran thus:

DEAR WALTER: You give but scanty intelligence of your progress and success, or want of it. I respect you for your determination to support yourself, but I don’t want you to carry your independence too far. As you have never fitted yourself for any kind of business, I presume your earnings are small. I should not be surprised to hear that you are straitened for money. If you are, don’t let your pride prevent your informing me. I can easily send you fifty dollars, for your property was not all lost, and it is not fitting that you should deprive yourself of the comforts of life when there is no occasion for it.

“Nancy often speaks of you, and, indeed, I may say that we both miss you very much, and wish the year were up, so that you might return to us. I have hopes of righting your property, so that you may go back to Euclid College at the beginning of the fall session. I am glad to learn by your last letter that your health is excellent. Once more, don’t hesitate to write to me for money if you need a remittance.

“Your affectionate guardian,

“EZEKIEL MACK.”

Walter smiled as he finished reading the letter.

“I wonder what my good guardian would say,” he soliloquized, “if he knew that I had nearly a thousand dollars saved up? He would open his eyes, I fancy.”

He sat down at once and made a reply, in the course of which he said: “Don’t trouble yourself to send me money. I can get along with the wages I receive. When I left home I made up my mind not to call upon you for help, and I am glad to say there is no occasion to do so as yet. I think my year’s absence from college will do me good. I am ashamed when I consider how poorly I appreciated the advantages of study, and how foolishly I spent my time and money. If I ever go back to college I shall turn over a new leaf. I have seen something of the world and gained some experience of life, and feel about half a dozen years older than when I left college.”

When Doctor Mack, a week later, read these lines he smiled contentedly.

“My experiment is working well,” he said. “It is making a man of Walter. He has been a drone, hitherto. Now he has become a worker, and, though I may not like him better, for he was always near to my heart, I respect him more.”

A week later Walter, on returning from a walk, found a middle-aged stranger in conversation with Professor Robinson.

The professor seemed a little embarrassed when Walter entered.

“I have some news for you, Walter,” he said. “I am afraid it will not be welcome to you.”

“Please let me hear it, professor,” said Walter.

“This gentleman is Nahum Snodgrass, of Chicago, who has been for some years a traveler for a large wholesale-drug-house.”

“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely.

Snodgrass, who was a thin, dry-looking man, nodded briefly.

“I have just sold out my business to him,” went on Professor Robinson, “and henceforth shall aim to live more easily and enjoy the presence of my family.”

“I congratulate you, professor,” said Walter. “I think you deserve a life of leisure.”

“Mr. Snodgrass is willing to take you into his employ, but he does not think he can afford to pay you as much as I did.”

“No,” said Snodgrass, clearing his throat, “I find that Professor Robinson has been foolishly liberal. The ten per cent. commission which he has paid you is simply—stu—pendous!”

Walter smiled.

“I have not been in the habit of taking that view of it,” he said.

“Perhaps not, but I do,” said Snodgrass, firmly. “You are a very young man, and ought not to expect much pay. I will give you two dollars a week and pay your traveling expenses.”

“I beg to decline your offer, Mr. Snodgrass,” said Walter, politely. “I have thought of changing my business before, but was unwilling to leave the professor. As we are strangers, I need have no further hesitation.”