Home > Authors Index > H. Irving Hancock > High School Boys' Training Hike; or, Making Themselves "Hard as Nails" > This page
The High School Boys' Training Hike; or, Making Themselves "Hard as Nails", a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
||
Chapter 16. Home, Hospital And Almshouse |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XVI. HOME, HOSPITAL AND ALMSHOUSE Greg flashed the lantern on four hulking, bedraggled ragged men. "Hello! It's the same kids!" cried a hoarse voice out in the storm. "They'll be glad to see us." "You keep out of here!" ordered Reade, thrusting his stick at the face of the first tramp---the boss tramp---who tried to enter. "No!" countermanded Dick Prescott. "Let even the hoboes come in. Let anyone come in on a night like this." "Now, that's decent of you," admitted the boss tramp, as he sloshed heavily in, followed by three companions. Two of these tramps had been with the "boss" on another well remembered occasion. The third was a stranger to Dick & Co. "My, but you've got a real house in here a true port in a storm," observed the boss tramp, as he halted to stare about him. "Friends, this is the best thing we've seen today." "It is," agreed the other tramps solemnly. The glance of the newcomers did not rest upon the face of Reuben Hinman, for Prescott had gently spread a blanket so that it effectually concealed the little old peddler. "What have you men been doing?" asked Dick, straightening up and eyeing them coldly, steadily. "Drowning in the woods," replied the boss, "for we knew we couldn't find a house or barn within two miles, and the road is like a river you need a boat for travel to-night. When the storm came we men made a brush lean-to and kept as dry as we could under it. But it got worse and worse. But at last we caught sight of your light shining through the trees. So we headed for it. We hoped you'd have a stove with a fire in it, and you have---so we're all right, and much obliged." "Keep back there a bit," ordered Dick, so firmly that the tramps obeyed. "Dave, help me to lift this cot over within a few feet of the stove. Be as gentle as you can." Four tramps looked on in solemn curiosity as they saw Darrin and Prescott lift a cot on which lay something completely covered by a blanket. Then Dick turned down the blanket, revealing the bruised, bleeding head of Reuben Hinman. "What do you men know about this?" Prescott demanded, eyeing them compellingly. But the tramps' look was one of such astonished innocence that Prescott began to wonder whether he had wrongly suspected these knights of the highway. "Why did you do---this?" Prescott sternly insisted. "We---we didn't do it!" exclaimed the boss tramp fervently. "We didn't even know that this old party was anywhere out in the storm. We-----" Moaning, Reuben Hinman stirred slightly then opened his eyes dreamily. "Mr. Hinman, can you talk?" asked Dick gently. "Ye-es," faintly admitted the peddler. "Then how were you hurt, sir?" Dick pressed in the same gentle voice. "I---I saw the light. Tried---to drive my horse---in. Wagon turned over. Fell off---and hurt my head," replied the peddler, whispering hoarsely. "You're fully conscious, Mr. Hinman, and know just what you're saying?" Dick pressed. "Yes, Prescott. I know." "Then no one else assaulted you to-night, sir." "No---one." "I feel like saying 'thank heaven' for that!" exclaimed Dick in a quiet voice, as he straightened up, his eyes a trifle misty. "I hate to think that the earth holds men vile enough to strike down a weak old man like this!" "And on such a night," added Tom Reade. "Oh, we're pretty bad," said the boss tramp, huskily, "but we didn't do anything like that." "At first," Dick went on, "I thought you hoboes had done the deed. That was why I asked my friend to let you come in. I wanted to keep you here until we could find someone who would take care of you." "We didn't do it," replied the boss tramp, "and the old man says we didn't." "No; no man struck me---I fell," chimed in the peddler weakly. "We'll help you take care of the old man," offered the boss tramp. "If you mean what you say," Prescott proposed, "then take one of these lanterns and go down by the road to see what you can find out about Mr. Hinman's horse and wagon. Or did you see them as you came up?" "No, for we came through the woods," replied the boss tramp. "I'll take the lantern. Come with me, Joe." Out into the dark plunged the two tramps, to face the heavily falling rain. For once, at any rate, they were doing something useful. At a signal from Dick, Greg put some water on the stove to heat. Prescott found some clean cloth in their wardrobe box and bathed the wound on Mr. Hinman's temple, then washed his entire face. The wound proved to be broad, rather than deep, and was such as might have been caused by falling on sharp pebbles. Then Dick bound up the wound. Next, Dick and Greg undressed Mr. Hinman and rubbed him down, then rolled him in dry blankets and laid him on another cot not far from the stove. "Come out, you other hoboes," called the boss tramp's voice. "Come and help us right the peddler's wagon and bring that and the horse up here." The other two tramps went reluctantly out into the storm. A bottle full of hot water, wrapped in a towel, was placed at the peddler's feet. In the meantime the tramps got the wagon into a sheltered position, then staked the horse out close to the place where the Gridley horse was tethered. This having been accomplished, they came back to the camp, to find a new aroma on the air. "That stuff smells good. What is it?" asked the boss tramp. "Ginger tea. We've made some to give to Mr. Hinman." "Will you give us some, too?" asked the tramp. "We're all of us chilled and hoarse." "I will," Dick nodded, "if you men will undertake to fill the buckets before you try to dry yourselves. Otherwise, we shall run out of water." Grunting, the boss tramp and one of his companions listened while Dick directed them where to find running water. Out again into the storm they lurched, and soon had all the water buckets filled and in the tent. While the tramps dried their clothing, Prescott kept his word about making ginger tea. "This seems like the best stuff I've had since I was a baby," remarked the boss tramp, in a somewhat grateful voice. "Maybe that's because you've worked for it," suggested Reade thoughtfully. "I wonder," grunted the hobo. "I wonder." Later on Dick and his chums prepared a supper, of which all partook except the peddler, who needed sleep and warmth more. The tramps slept on the floor, later on. Tom, Dave and Harry slept on their cots, while the other three high school boys remained awake. Toward two o'clock in the morning Dick found Reuben Hinman's skin becoming decidedly feverish, and began to administer nitre. "I'd mount our horse, and try to ride for a doctor, if I thought I could get one," murmured Greg. "You couldn't get one here to-night," volunteered the boss tramp, who had awakened and had risen on one elbow. "Neither an automobile nor a buggy could be driven over this wild road to-night. The water is three feet deep in spots---worse in some others." Though the deluge outside still continued, all would have been cheery inside had it not been for the alarm Dick & Co. felt over the increasing fever of the poor old peddler. His breathing became more and more labored. Dave awoke and came over to listen and look on. "I'll try to go for a doctor," he whispered. "You might even reach one," Dick replied. "I'd be willing to try myself, but we couldn't get a physician through on a night like this." "At least I'll go down and have a look at the road," muttered Reade, rising, wrapping himself up as best he could, and taking a lantern. Tom presently returned, looking like a drowned rat. "It's no go," he announced gloomily. "The road is a river." "Sure it is," muttered the boss tramp, "or---as you lads have been so decent to me---I'd go myself and try to find a doctor." _ |
||