Ben Stone at Oakdale

“Perhaps I’m a bit selfish about it, too,” said Eliot. “I have my eye on you for the eleven, as we’re bound to do up Wyndham this year. You ought to be a stiff man in the line. I want you to come out for practice to-morrow night. We’ll have our coach next week, and then we’ll have to settle right down to business and get into trim. He’ll make us toe the scratch.”

Later, on the way back to his bare room at Mrs. Jones’, Ben wondered if he had not been dreaming. It did not seem possible that such good fortune could come to him at last, just when, to all appearances, his hard luck had culminated in blighting disaster.

As he thought of his visit to Roger Eliot’s home, of his reception by Roger’s family, of that dinner in the handsome dining room, and of Roger’s earnest pledge on hearing his story to stand by him and be his friend, a strange and wonderful feeling of lightness and exuberant happiness possessed him and made him long to shout and sing. An inward voice seemed whispering that he had left behind him all the dark shadows, and now stood on the threshold of a brighter and better life.

Still it was not wholly without a feeling of dread and misgiving that he approached the academy the following morning, and the fear that somehow things might not go right after all left his face pale, although his heart beat tumultuously, as he came up the gravel walk.

As usual at such an hour on warm and pleasant days while school was holding there was a group of boys near the academy steps. Chipper Cooper had just finished telling for the thirteenth time that morning how Stone had defended Amy Eliot and “knocked the stuffing out of Fletcher’s dogs,” his every statement having been confirmed by Chub Tuttle, who was making a sort of after-breakfast lunch on peanuts.

Every boy in the gathering turned to look at Ben as he drew near, and had he observed he must have seen there was nothing of unfriendliness in their faces. When he would have passed them to enter the academy Chipper called to him.

“Hey, Stone!” he cried; “hold on a minute, will you? Where did you hit Old Tige’s big dog when you knocked him stiff? We fellows have been wondering how you did it.”

“I hit him on the back of his neck,” answered Ben, pausing a bit.

“Well, that was a dandy trick!” declared Cooper. “You ought to have a reward of merit for that.”

Chub Tuttle approached Ben and held out a handful of peanuts.

“Have some,” he urged, his round face beaming. “Fresh roasted. Got ’em at Stickney’s store.”

“Thank you,” said Ben, feeling his face flush as he accepted two or three of them.

At that moment Roger Eliot came from within the building, saw Ben and seized him immediately, saying:

“Just the fellow I’m looking for! Prof. Richardson wants to see you before school begins. Come in.”

Then, with his arm about Ben, he drew him into the academy.

“By Jinks!” exclaimed Sile Crane; “I guess that pretty nigh settles things. When Roger Eliot takes up with a feller like that, Bern Hayden nor nobody else ain’t goin’ to down him much.”

“’Sh!” hissed Sleuth Piper, assuming an air of caution and mystery. “I have been piping things off this morning, and I’ll stake my reputation on it that Eliot has been fixing it for Stone. He has revealed to the professor the whole tragic tale of that encounter with Fletcher’s dogs, and, besides that, the professor has been questioning some of the fellows who were on the scene of action when the go between Stone and Rollins took place. My deduction is that Stone will come out of this affair with flying colors.”

“You’re almost too knowing to live, Sleuth,” said Cooper sarcastically. “As for me, I rather hope Stone does come out all right, for if he stays in the school he may play football, and I reckon a stocky chap like him will just about fill an aching void in the right wing of the line.”

“An aching void!” sneered Piper, who had not relished Cooper’s words or manner. “Will you be good enough, Mr. Smarty, to tell us how a void can ache?”

“Why, sure,” grinned Chipper promptly. “You have a headache sometimes, don’t you?”

“Smarty! smarty!” cried Sleuth, as he fled into the academy to escape from the laughter of the boys.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SKIES BRIGHTEN

Having opened school that morning in the usual manner, Prof. Richardson rose beside his desk, on which he tapped lightly with his knuckles, and surveyed the scholars over his spectacles, which seemed to cling precariously to the tip of his thin, aquiline nose. There was a slight bustle of expectancy all over the room, and then the scholars settled themselves down almost breathlessly to hear what the principal would say.

Having cleared his throat, Prof. Richardson began speaking slowly and distinctly, as if weighing every word. He did not look at first in the direction of Stone, who sat there flushed and chilled by turns, keeping his eyes on an open book which lay before him. There was sternness as he expressed his sentiments regarding the person with a bullying inclination who took pleasure in abusing those physically weaker than himself; and, although Sam Rollins’ name was not mentioned, every one knew at whom those open remarks were directed.

Hunk knew, and in an effort to appear unconcerned and a trifle defiant he was openly brazen. Soon, however, his eyes drooped before the accusing gaze of the old professor.

The principal continued by commending with some warmth the individual whose impulses led him, regardless of personal danger or the chance of being misunderstood, to stand up in defense of one who was being mistreated and abused. He went on to say that such a thing had occurred upon the previous afternoon, and that through undue haste on his own part, which he now regretted, he had been led to misunderstand the situation and condemn the wrong person. He even displayed his own moral courage by offering an apology.

Ben Stone’s cheeks were burning now, and his heart pounded so heavily that he fancied every one near him must hear it. He did not move as his grinning little seatmate reached over slyly to pinch him, whispering:

“That’s for you, old feller.”

Prof. Richardson was still speaking, and now he was telling of the remarkable heroism of a lad who had rushed to the defense of a little girl beset by two huge and vicious dogs. The principal’s words were simple and straightforward; he made no effort at eloquence, and yet his language was singularly graphic and effective. He made them shiver at the picture he drew of little Amy Eliot besieged by Tige Fletcher’s ugly pets. He caused them to see in imagination the dauntless defender of the child rushing to the spot and beating the brutes off.

“It was a very fine thing to do,” said the professor, who was at last looking straight at the lad whose eyes remained fixed upon that open book. “It was something not a few men might have hesitated about doing, or, at least, might have done in fear and trepidation. It is really marvelous that the heroic lad escaped untouched by the fangs of those snarling beasts. By this deed he established beyond question the fact that he is a boy of fine courage, possessing the instincts which lead him unhesitatingly to face gravest peril in defense of those who are unable to defend themselves. I have certainly learned a great deal concerning this lad, who apparently has been much misunderstood in the past, and I am proud of the fact that he is a student in this school. I am speaking of Benjamin Stone.”

A sudden hand-clapping broke out all over the room, and the professor did not check them nor reprove them for it.

There was, however, at least one who did not join in the burst of applause. Bernard Hayden’s face was pale and cold, but in his bosom there was a raging fire of wrath and resentment.

Ben was overcome. His head bent lower, and he blinked his eyelids rapidly to scatter the blurring mist which threatened to blind him. His effort to smile simply contorted his plain face a trifle, and there was nothing noble or heroic in the picture he made.

“Gee!” whispered Ben’s seatmate. “I never knew the old Prof. to get so enthusiastic before.”

As the regular routine of the day was taken up, Ben still sat there without daring to look around. He did not know when Bern Hayden, complaining of illness, asked permission to go home. Like one in a trance, he tried to study, and finally succeeded in forcing his attention upon his lessons. It truly seemed that the last shadow had been dispelled.

At intermission the boys came flocking around him, and some of the girls smiled upon him in a friendly manner. They found, however, that he disliked to talk of his exciting encounter with Fletcher’s dogs.

“The town fathers orter present you with a medal for killin’ old Tige’s big cur,” said Sile Crane.

“It may not oc-cur to them to do it,” chuckled Chipper Cooper.

“Permit me,” grinned Chub Tuttle, “as a token of my high appreciation and gratitude, to present you with a genuine fresh roasted, double-jointed California peanut.”

Even Spotty Davis hung around and sought to be familiar and friendly. Seizing Davis by the elbow, Sleuth Piper drew him aside and whispered mysteriously behind his hand:

“Listen to the deduction into which I have been led by the present surprising turn of affairs,” pleaded Sleuth. “Take it from me that this man Stone will become a member of the great Oakdale eleven, which will be much strengthened by his marvelous prowess and undaunted courage.”

“Mebbe so,” nodded Spotty; “but it ain’t going to set well in Bern Hayden’s crop.”

Walker, Ben’s seatmate, who had once felt it a sore affliction to be placed beside him, now hovered near, seeking to enjoy a little irradiated glory.

It was all very strange and unusual for Stone, and in spite of his pleasure in it his natural shyness continued to make him appear distant and somewhat sullen.

When midday intermission arrived Ben hastened to leave the academy, rushing away before any of the boys could join him. That day his cold lunch tasted sweet indeed, and his little bare room looked strangely attractive and homelike.

He returned late to the academy, arriving barely in time to escape being tardy. All the afternoon he studied hard, and in his recitations he was well prepared.

School over for the day, he was not given time to get away before the others, Eliot capturing him on the steps.

“Come on over to the gym, old fellow,” urged Roger. “This time you’re going to practice. I know the place for you in the line.”

“Come on, come on,” called several others; “we must get at it early to-night.”