"git on t' the size of it! . . . . oh, my aunt sally! . . . . lookee what the cat brung in! . . . . boys, ketch me whilst i faint! . . . . am i seein' it, or ain't i—w'ich? . . . . say! they's more down cellar in a teacup!"
johnnie understood that it was all about himself, and even guessed that he looked a little queer to these men who appeared so strange to him. they were gathered around in a boisterous circle, exclaiming and laughing. he revolved slowly, examining each. some were stocky and some spindling. two or three were almost boyish; the others, as old as one-eye. but in the matter of dress, one was exactly like every other one—at least so far as could be judged by a small boy in a moment so charged with excitement.
he felt no resentment at their banter, sensing that it was kindly. he liked them. he liked the great, mysterious basement. he felt precisely like another aladdin. no magical smoke had gone up, and no stone had been lifted. yet here he was in a new and entrancing world!
he would have liked to stay right there at the foot of the stairs for a long time, in order to give adequate study to every one of the shaggy men. but one-eye suddenly grasped him by the hand again and led him away—down a long, curving alley that took them past a score of horses. each horse was in a stall of its own, and under[94] each was straw as yellow as johnnie's own hair. electric bulbs lit the whole place grandly, disclosing saddles and straps and other horse gear, hung at intervals along the alley.
in one of his swift visions, he now saw himself as a member of this fascinating crew, wearing, like them, long, hairy breeches, a wide hat, spurs, and a neckerchief, and setting gaily forth in a cavalcade to be admired by a marveling city!
far along, where the alley swerved sharply, one-eye halted him. here was a vacant stall, except that it was half-filled with straw. a coat hung in it, and in the iron feed box in one corner nested a pair of boots. plainly this was a camping place, and johnnie thrilled as they turned into it, and he stood almost waist deep in clean bedding.
"have a chair," insisted one-eye, with a gentle shoulder pat.
johnnie sat. even as he went down he felt that he really was coming to understand this new friend better. of course there was no chair. it was just the other's way of saying things—an odd, funny way. his back braced against a stall side, he grinned across at one-eye, now squatted opposite him, and smoking, this in splendid disregard of a sign which read plainly: no smoking.
johnnie did not speak. his experience with big tom had taught him at least one valuable lesson: to be sparing with his tongue. so he waited the pleasure of his companion, sunk in a trough of the straw, ringed round with books, his thumbs in his palms and his fingers shut tight upon the thumbs through sheer emotion, which also showed in two red spots on his cheeks.
"reckon y' don't want t' go out no more t'night," observed one-eye, after a moment.[95]
"no." johnnie held his breath, hoping for an invitation.
it came. "thought y' wouldn't. so camp right here, and to-morra we'll powwow."
"all right." johnnie's voice shook with relief and delight; with pride, too, at being thus honored. he rolled up the coat for a pillow when one-eye rose and threw it down to him; and being offered a horse blanket, pulled it up to his brows and lay back obediently, to the peril of the orange, which was under him, and so to his own discomfort.
"so long, sonny." the single green eye gleamed down at him almost affectionately from under the wide brim.
"thank y'," returned johnnie.
for a long time he lay without moving, this for fear one-eye might come back. when he took his books out of his shirt, he did not read, though the stall was brightly lighted, only watched a pair of nervous brown ears that kept showing above the stall-side in front of him. something was troubling him very much. it seemed to be something in his forehead; but it was in his throat most of all; though that spot at the end of his breastbone felt none too well.
whatever it was, it had a great deal to do with cis (the mere thought of her made his eyes smart) and with grandpa. freedom and new friends he had; more books, too, than he could read in a year—or so it seemed to him as he measured the pile under the orange. then why, having the best bed he had known since the one with the blue knobs at aunt sophie's, why could he not go to sleep? or, if he was not sleepy, why did he not want to read? or summon to him aladdin, or david with goliath, or mr. rockefeller?
he pulled hard at his hair.
the truth was, he was learning something about him[96]self. he was finding out that to get away from danger was only part of his problem: the other part was to get away from his own thoughts, his feelings—in short, his conscience. for try as he might, as he lay there, he could not keep the wheel chair out of his sight!
it stood before him in the yellow bedding, and the little old man seated in it kept holding out trembling hands. the thin, bearded face was distorted pathetically, and tears streamed from the faded eyes. if johnnie turned his head away from the chair, he met other eyes—eyes young and blue and gentle. poor cis, so shy always, and silent; so loving and good!
down into one-eye's coat went johnnie's small nose, and so hard that to this unfreckled feature was instantly transferred the pain in his forehead and throat and breast; and his hurt was for a moment changed into the physical, which was easier to bear. yes, they were left behind alone, those two who were so dear to him.
even with the horse blanket over both ears he could hear the wheel chair going from the stove to the window, from the window to the hall door, while the old soldier whimpered and called. he could hear cis call, too—his name. but it was grandpa who hurt him the most. cis was quite grown-up, and had girl friends, and her work, and the freedom to go to and from it. but grandpa!—his old heart was wrapped up in his johnnie. so childish that he was virtually a little boy, he had for johnnie the respect and affection that a little boy gives to a bigger one.
next, bright, shining, birdlike eyes were smiling at him—mrs. kukor! the horse blanket shook. at either side of johnnie's nose a damp spot came on one-eye's coat.
but fortunately the trembling and the tears were seen by no human eyes, only by a brown pair that belonged to those brown ears. and presently, when the nearest[97] lights went out, leaving johnnie's retreat in gloom, the pictures that smote him changed to those of a sleeping dream, and he wandered on and on through a vast white garden that grew hats and coats—in a double row.
when he wakened, the lights were on again. as he rose he made up his mind to win one-eye's consent to his remaining in this big palace—which had turned out to be a horse palace. "'cause i dassn't go back!" he decided. the enormity of what he had done in leaving the flat and staying away a whole night, he now realized. a creepy feeling traveled up and down his spine at the thought of it, and he shook to his calloused heels.
then with a grin, he remembered that no one knew where he belonged. furthermore, as one-eye did not believe that johnnie smith was his real name, he had only to hint that he was somebody else, which would throw his new friend completely off the track.
he leaned against the stall and pulled at his hair, considering that problem of staying on. to his way of thinking, there was only one good scheme by which to win the approbation of anybody, and that scheme was work. so when he had tugged at his hair till the last straw was out of it, he pattered off down the runway, determined to find some task that needed to be done.
the great place appeared strangely deserted as to men. so he came across no one whom he could help. as for the occupants of the giant circle of stalls, he did not know what service he could offer them. he felt fairly sure that horses' faces were not washed of a morning. and they had all been fed. but why not comb their hair? searching up and down for a possible comb, he spied a bucket. then he knew what he could do.
the job was not without its drawbacks. for one thing, the horses were afraid of him. they wrenched at their hitching-chains when he came close to their heels,[98] or blew noisily, or bunched themselves into the forward ends of their stalls, turning on him startled, white-rimmed eyes. he offered the dripping bucket only to the more quiet ones.
he worked his way down the long line that stood nearest the spigot, now staggering and splashing as he lugged a full pail, now scampering back happily with an empty one. and he was beside a stairway, and on the point of taking in a drink to the horse stalled closest to the entrance, when he heard several voices, the creak of doors, and footsteps. so he paused, the bucket swinging from both hands, until half a dozen pairs of shaggy legs appeared just above him. then as the big hats were bobbing into view, so that he knew his labors could be seen and appreciated, he faced round with the pail and entered the stall.
the next moment there sounded a dull bang, followed by the loud ring of tin, a breathless cry, and the swish of flying water—as johnnie came hurtling headlong out of the stall, the bucket preceding him, a shod hoof in his immediate wake, and the contents of the pail showering in all directions. there was a second bang also dull, as he landed against the bottom step of the stairs at the very feet of the horrified men.
a chorus of cries went up. but johnnie's voice was not a part of it. hurt, winded, and thoroughly scared, he lay in a little ragged heap, a book thrusting up the big shirt here and there, so that he looked to have broken not a few bones.
"that flea-bit mare!" charged one-eye, dropping johnnie's breakfast and picking up the boy.
"pore kid! . . . . and he was workin'! . . . . is he hurt bad? . . . . that ongrateful bronc'! . . . . totin' the blamed thing water, too!"—thus they sympathized with him as he swayed against one-eye, who was steadying him on his feet.[99]
breath and tears came at the same moment—the latter in spite of him. but he wept in anger, in disappointment and chagrin and resentment, rather than in pain. the books having now fallen into place in the pouch of the shirt, it was evident there were no fractures.
"shore of it," pronounced one-eye. "i've felt him all over."
furthermore, a book had undoubtedly received the full force of the implanted hoof; and save for a darkening patch on johnnie's left arm, he was as good as ever, though slightly damp as to both spirits and clothing. for it was his feelings that were the more injured. his proffer of a drink had been repaid by an ignominious kick that had landed upon him under the very eyes of those whom he most wanted to impress.
"now what'd mister vanderbilt say if he knowed!" mourned one-eye; "or mister astor! they'd be plumb sore on me!—my! my! my!"
these remarks shifted johnnie's inner vision to other scenes, and having already guessed that he was not broken in two, he considered one-eye's plaint with something of a twinkle in his eyes, and fell once more to dragging at his hair.
willing hands now refilled the battered bucket and washed his tear-wet face. after which one-eye recovered the breakfast—an egg sandwich and a banana—and proceeded to lay down the law.
"with that hurt arm o' your'n, sonny," he began, "it's back to home, sweet home. and if that feller, tom, licks y', w'y, i'll jes' nat'ally lick him."
"you couldn't lick him," informed johnnie, turning his sandwich about in search for a location thin enough to admit of a first bite. "he's the strongest longshoreman in n'york. he can carry five sacks of flour on his back, and one under both arms."[100]
disdainfully one-eye lifted his lone brow, and he passed over the remark. "the point is," he continued, "that if y' ever figger t' go back, now's the time."
johnnie saw the argument. and to his own surprise he found himself willing to go. "prob'ly big tom'll only pull my ear," he said philosophically. "and he won't do that much, even, if—if you'll go along."
"will i!" cried one-eye. "wal, it'd take a twenty-mule team t' holt me back!"
"honest?" for this fellow was a wag, and there was no telling what he really meant to do.
"if i don't, i'll eat my shaps!" promised one-eye.
"then i guess you better tie up my arm," went on johnnie, which bit of inspired diplomacy sent the whole sympathizing group into whoops of laughter.
"ain't he the ticket?" demanded one man.
one-eye 'lowed that he was.
the tying was done. first the purplish spot was swathed in white; and as the injury was below the raveling edge of the sleeve, the bandage was in plain sight, and carried conviction with it. next a sling was made out of a blue-patterned handkerchief of one-eye's. proudly johnnie contemplated the dressing. here was not only insurance against a whipping, but that which lent him a peculiar and desirable distinction.
"you'll go all the way up with me?" he asked one-eye. (now was the time to make sure of the future.) "y' see it's sunday. he'll be home."
"up and in," vowed the latter. "come along!"
there were hearty good-bys to be said, and johnnie had his well arm thoroughly shaken before one-eye helped him climb the stairs. he would gladly have prolonged his leave-taking. for one thing, he had not half inspected that mammoth basement—not to mention the huge, dim place overhead. and the horse that had kicked him[101] merited a second look. but "let's go whilst the goin's good," counseled one-eye. so johnnie fell in beside him, holding well to the front that interesting bandage.
"y' live far?" one-eye wanted to know. this was when they were out by that lamp post which had lighted johnnie's reading.
"clear 'way down to the other end of broadway almost," boasted johnnie. "'n' then you go over towards the manhattan bridge."
"that so! clear way down!—and how'd y' git up this far?" that green eye was as keen as a blade.
"rode up—in a' automobile." johnnie did not like to spoil the picture by explaining that the automobile was a truck, and that he had found it strewn with chicken-feathers.
"all right," returned one-eye. "then we'll ride down." inserting a knuckle into his mouth between two widely separated teeth that were like lone sentinels, he blew a high, piercing summons. at the same time, he swung his arm at a passing taxicab, stopping it almost electrically. and the thing was done.
as the taxicab rolled to the curb, johnnie turned his back upon it for a last look at the palace. how huge it was! "and i'll bet the afercan magician couldn't even move it," he decided. he promised himself that one day he would come back to it, and climb to its several towers.
"a-a-a-a-all aboard!" one-eye lit a large, magnificently banded cigar. he handed a second, fully as thick and splendid, to the staring, but respectful, individual who was to drive them—a young, dark man, very dirty, and in his shirt-sleeves (he was seated upon his coat), who seemed so impressed by the elder of his passengers as to be beyond speech. "over t' broadway, and down," instructed one-eye. "we'll tell y' when t' whoa."
calmly johnnie climbed into the taxicab, and carelessly[102] he took his seat. then the car plunged westward before a reeking cloud of its own smoke. under way, he elevated that small nose of his and drank deep of the—to him—good smell of gasoline. had not his aunt sophie often pronounced it clean and healthy?
however, despite this upward tilting, he did not appear to be at all proud of the fact that he was riding; and one-eye fell to watching him, that green eye round with wonder. for here was this little ragamuffin seated high and dry in a first class taxi, and speeding through the city in style, yet with the supreme indifference of a young millionaire!
"city younguns shore take the bak'ry!" one-eye observed admiringly, aiming the remark at his driver, who sat somewhat screwed about on his seat in such a way that he could, from block to block, as some other car slowed his machine, regale his astonished eyes with those fur-fronted breeches.
"oh, this banana'll be enough," politely returned johnnie, having caught the word bakery but missed the real meaning of the statement. calmly as ever, he divested the fruit of its skin and cast the long peelings upon the floor of the cab. in his time he had sat for hours at a stretch in the regal limousines of uncle albert's rich man; and he regarded a taxicab without awe.
one-eye chuckled.
presently johnnie was dragging at his mop as he ate. which was proof that he was meditating. indeed he was thinking so hard that he failed to note the large amount of attention which he and his companion were attracting. so far he had not mentioned grandpa to this friendly stranger—this for fear of harming his own case, of hastening his return home. now the omission somehow appeared to be almost a denial of the truth. nor had he[103] spoken of cis. all this called for correction before the flat was reached.
by way of clearing up the whole matter, he began with an introduction of cis. "there's a girl lives where i do," he announced casually.
"y' don't say! sister? cousin? she must 'a' missed y'."
"no relation at all. but she's awful nice—i like her. she's sixteen, goin' on seventeen, and i'm goin' t' steal her away soon's ever i grow up."
"i git y'.—say, mister, go slow with this gasoline bronc' of your'n! y' know i'd like t' see little old cheyenne oncet more before i check in,"—this to the chauffeur, as the taxicab shaved the flank of a street car going at high speed, then caromed to rub axles with a brother machine.
"you'll meet her," promised johnnie, who did not think they were going too fast, and who had completely forgotten it was sunday, which meant that cis would be at home without fail; "'cause once before, when i burnt my hand, she stayed away from work two whole days. big tom never lets grandpa be alone." (he thought that rather a neat way to bring in the old man.)
with a sidewise tipping of the big hat, one-eye directed a searching look to the bare head at his elbow. "other days, you take care of said ole man," he returned.
johnnie nodded. "i like him."
the silence that followed was embarrassing. he knew one-eye was watching him. but not liking to glance up, he was unable to judge of his companion's attitude. so he began again, changing the subject. "cis is awful pretty," he confided. "once she was a may queen in central park for her class at school, only it wasn't in may, and she had all the ice cream she could eat. mrs. kukor made her a white dress for that time, and i made some art'ficial vi'lets for 'round her hair. oh, she looked[104] fine! and she saw the prince of wales when he was in n'york and ever since she's liked just him."
one-eye took the cigar from his mouth. "it'd be a grand match for her," he conceded. his tone implied that the alliance with royalty was by no means a remote possibility.
"a-a-a-aw!" scoffed johnnie, flashing up at one-eye a wise smile. "all the girls at cis's fac'try seen him, too, and they all like him just the same as she does. but the prince, he's got t' marry a princess."
one-eye agreed. "pretty tough," he observed sympathetically, and went back to his cigar.
"so cis'll have t' marry a movin'-picture actor," concluded johnnie; "—or a cowboy."
at that the cigar fairly popped from one-eye's countenance. "a cowboy!" he cried, the green eye dancing. "w'y, that'd be better'n a prince!"
"it would?" johnnie considered the idea.
"certainly would—t' my way of thinkin'." in their brief acquaintance one-eye had never before shown such interest, such animation.
"how d' you mean?"
"i mean," answered one-eye, stoutly, "that cowboys is noble fellers!"
before johnnie could argue the matter further, or ask any one of the thousand questions that he would have liked to get explained regarding cowboys, the driver interrupted to demand how much farther southward he was expected to go; and as chambers street was even then just ahead, the eastern turn was made at once, which set johnnie off along a new line of thought—his coming ordeal.
and this ordeal was not the meeting with big tom, which he dreaded enough, but which he believed would not have to be endured for at least some hours; it was the[105] having to face, in company with this rich and important acquaintance, that gang of boys who so delighted to taunt him.
anxiously his gray eyes searched ahead of the taxicab, which was now picking its way too swiftly through streets crowded with children. this ability to invest the present with all the reality of the future, how wonderful it could be!—but how terrible! for he was suffering greatly in advance, and writhing on the leather-covered seat, and all but pulling out his yellow hair.
"arm ache y'?" one-eye wanted to know.
"guess so," faltered johnnie. then his face turned a sickly pale, and he shouldered a bit closer to his escort. a feeling of suffocation meant that his breath had stopped. and upon his untanned forehead oozed the perspiration of dismay. also, his cheeks mottled. for just before them were two of those boys whom he feared!—as if they had sprung from a seam in the sidewalk! they were staring at the taxicab. they were looking at johnnie (who stole a nervous look back). now they were following on!
johnnie's jaw set; his teeth clenched. he steeled himself to bear public insult.
too many children had now brought the taxicab down to a crawling gait. slowly it rolled on through shouting, sunday-garbed youngsters. and fast grew the crowd which kept pace with it. but it was a silent crowd, as johnnie's ears told him, for his chin was on his breast and his eyes were fixed upon the meter—in agony, as if he, and not one-eye, would have to pay a charge which had already mounted high in three figures. why was that crowd silent? and what were those boys preparing to do—two were now several—who held all things in scorn? who made even the life of the patrolman on the beat a thing to be dreaded?[106]
the uncertainty was crushing.
"home in a jiffy," soothed one-eye, who felt sure the ride had been too much of a strain.
"stop here," whispered johnnie, catching sight, after a turn or two, of one of those entrances which gave to the area.
the taxicab stopped. in a hush that actually hurt, one-eye rose and descended, flipping a five-dollar bill to the driver. "but don't you go," he directed. "i'll want y' t' tote me back uptown."
johnnie rose then—feebly. once more he held that bandaged arm to the front. his faltering eyes said that the injury was a plea—a plea for courteous treatment before this distinguished stranger. oh, he knew he was a girlish-headed ragbag, but if they would only spare him this once!
one-eye took his hand. "step careful, sonny," he advised, almost tenderly. then to those pressing round, "back up, won't y'? give this boy room? don't y' see he's hurt?"
this was what so emboldened johnnie that he decided, even as a bare foot sought the running-board of the machine, to take one good look around. he paused, therefore, lifted his head, and let his glance deliberately sweep the crowd.
what he saw fairly took his breath; brought a flush to his sober little face, and strengthened him, body and soul—but especially spine. for before him was a staring, admiring, respectful, yes, and fascinated, even awe-struck, assemblage. there were grown people in it. there were more above, to both sides, leaning out of windows. and every mouth was wide!
was it one-eye in his startling garb? or the professional touch to his own appearance, in the shape of that dramatic, handkerchief-slung arm? or was it both?[107]
no matter. instantly reacting to this solemn reception, johnnie managed a pale smile. "much obliged!"—this he said gaily as his feet touched the concrete. he was experiencing such pride as had been his before only in his "thinks."
this was a moment never to be forgotten!
"now maybe i better lead—ha?" what satisfaction there was in addressing one-eye thus familiarly in the teeth of the enemy!
"break trail!" said one-eye. then, "gangway!" he sang out to the crowd. next, with a swift circular fling of an arm, he scattered a handful of small coins to right and left upon the street.
the crowd swayed, split, and scattered like the money. a path cleared. one-eye at his side, johnnie stepped forward.
now he would have liked to hang back, to loiter a bit, delaying their disappearance, and enjoying the situation. but one-eye, ignoring every one, as if crowds bored him, was headed for the hall like a fox to its hole, taking long, impressive, shaggy-legged strides.
behind, the boys johnnie had feared scrambled without shame for one-eye's small silver. while he, the "old clothes," the "girl's hair," the mocked and despised, was walking, as man with man, beside the wonderful one-eye before whom those same boys had not dared to utter a single slur!
his satisfaction was complete!
"home again!" he cried, feeling ready to do a hop-skip except that it would take away from the effect they had made.
oh, he could stand a whipping in the privacy of the flat if a whipping was waiting for him at the top of those three flights—now that this public part of the return had gone so magnificently![108]
