The Open Road: Stages III and IV

The Open Road BY JOHN HENRY EVANS, OF THE LATTER-DAY SAINTS UNIVERSITY Stage III — Iii Which Brocketts Walks on Thin Ice and Comes Near Breaking Through. That Tom and Brocketts should be on exactly the same friendly terms after what had happened concerning the auburnhaired people, was hardly to be expected even by the charity which covers a multitude of sins. Neither was it to be hoped that they would keep altogether apart, seeing that they were both at the stable. And yet this last was precisely what occurred. For several days after the incident Tom managed to dodge Brocketts every morning, noon, and night, whenever, in fact, he thought he heard footsteps on the ladder above or on the board walk just outside the door. Brocketts had appeared calm enough that night, but there was fire in his eye which Tom feared might break out any minute. And well might the stable-boy be stricken with fear and remorse, for Brocketts was thoroughly vexed. He was a proud boy, and this affair was a sore humiliation. He knew that, whenever they met, Tom and his chums were laughing over the greenhorn from Bavaria. Nothing, therefore, could gall him worse. The only wonder was that he had not gone straight from his conversation with Dudley that morning and, as he said, pounded Tom into a mummy. But most likely his feelings were softened a good deal by his new comradeship with Brown and his pleasant surprise regarding the "Mormons," as well as by the fact that he did not see the stable-boy at all till night. The more he thought of it, however, at first, the higher his bile rose and the more he felt like executing a summary vengeance on the practical joker. Tom, though, shrewdly kept out of the way. But if Brocketts was quick to anger, he was quick also to

024 IMPROVEMENT ERA forget. Naturally he had a soft heart ; he never nursed hard feelings against anyone, no matter how great the offense, if there was shown the least sign of penitence. This had been demonstrated once at Omaha when Ed Poulsen sneaked up behind him as Brocketts was walking home one night heavily overcoated and muffled. The fellow struck him a blow on the left cheek, and then ran away as fast as his cowardly legs could carry him. Brocketts had vowed speedy revenge. But next time he saw Ed, the boy begged for mercy, laying the blame on a bigger boy who had egged him on, and so he reluctantly forgave him, and the two were friends thereafter. Tom, of course, did not know anything about all this, but he acted as if he had his own way discovering Brockett's weak spot. And so one evening as Brocketts came into the stable a little earlier than usual, he bumped into Tom. Tom, to be sure, was a good deal abashed, but tried to make out that this meeting was exactly what he had been yearning for. "Say!" he exclaimed, "I've been wantin' to see you fer a long time now!" "Then what have you been running away from me for?" Brocketts asked without indicating in the least what his own feelings on the subject were. Tom only grinned. "I was on'y jokin'," he explained. "Course you were only joking. But I don't like such jokes." And Brocketts turned on his heel and walked toward the ladderway to his room. But Tom followed. "You ain't goin' to be mad at me all the time are you ?" "No," was the answer, "not if you act decent." "Put her there, then, to show you ain't!" Tom said, extending his hand. And Brocketts took the hand, giving it a warm grasp. Early the next morning Tom bolted into the upper room unceremoniously. "Say," he cried, "will you come out with us kids ? We're goin' fer a lark tonight." "What's a lark?" "Oh, a jolly good time. Tick-tacking, changin' things. We'll have lots o' fun. Come on ! There's eight of us, countin' you. You'll come, won't you ?" Brocketts hesitated. He didn't know what "tick-tacking" and "changin' things" were, but there was a sound in the very names

THE OPEN ROAD 625 tiiat boded no good. To tell the truth, he would rather stay at home, because he felt vaguely that it was a sort of mischief that would breed bad consequences. "Aw ! you're still mad at me, ain't you ?" Tom broke in. That settled it with Brocketts. "I'll go," he said. "Tell me when the fellows come." Down there in one of the back alley-ways of Cellartown Mr. Walton came to him. Mr. Walton was always a cheerful, good soul, especially with boys. And Brocketts liked him. "Well, young man, and how do you like your job by this time, hey?" "I like it, sir," Brocketts answered looking up but still keeping at his work. He was assorting a great pile of horse shoes which had got wonderfully mixed in a railroad wreck. "And Mr. Bernstein seems to like you, too," Mr. Walton went on. Brocketts looked up inquiringly. "Leastways he 'pears to," the man added with a sudden caution. "I'm glad to hear it," said Brocketts. , This was the first hint the boy had received from anyone that Mr. Bernstein ever thought of him. For weeks now he had been in the detestable bypaths of this place. And so far as he could judge by the outlook he would always be here. He wondered what Mr. Walton meant by the remark that his employer liked him. Did he know? If he did, it must be from Mr. Bernstein himself. But maybe he was only guessing. He zvould like to get on better in his employer's sight. He would do anything to get along. "You're a stranger here, aren't you ?" inquired Mr. Walton. "Yes, sir." "And I suppose you're not in the Church?" "Yes, sir." "Oh ! somebody told me you were not a 'Mormon' at all." "I — I'm not a 'Mormon,' but I belong to the church." This was something for Mr. Walton to scratch his bald head about. "How can you belong to a thing and not belong to it at the same time, my boy? Tell me that." And Mr. Walton looked quizzically at the boy. "I'm a Catholic, sir." "The deuce, you say! Why didn't you say so? I wonder you got a place here."

626 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Mr. Bernstein doesn't know I'm not a 'Mormon.' Ought I to tell him? Will he fire me when he knows?" "Nothing of the sort, boy; so make yourself easy on that score. Mr. Bernstein's a reasonable man. He knows that some people outside of our Church are as good as some people in it. But, you know, we have to take care of our own people first. See? If we don't look out for ourselves and our friends, who will? Tell me that." Brocketts saw. At the same time he was worried. Had he done wrong in not telling Mr. Bernstein, But how was he to know that he was among the "Mormons?" He told Mr. Walton about his conceptions of the Latter-day Saints and how he became enlightened. Whereupon Mr. Walton laughed heartily. But later he grew very serious. He said — "You'll have to be careful who you pick up with. I'm afraid that boy Tom — a good enough boy, as boys go, you know — but I'm afraid he'll get the bounce some day. He's always up to some prank or other. You'll have to be careful and that's what I came to tell you. Being a stranger and not one of us, you understand, it's up to you to make good. You've got nothing to fall back on — no parents, no relations, no very long past record. If I were you I wouldn't stick too close to that stable-boy. He's on his last good behavior now, and next time anything happens something else'll happen. So watch out!" And Mr. Walton shuffled off, leaving this strange morsel for Brocketts to chew. What did he mean? Did he know anything about tonight's "lark?" How could he? Tom wouldn't tell him. It was all very strange, coming just at this time, and it set Brocketts to thinking. That night just after dark and while Brocketts was in the act of counting the money he had in a tin box, Tom popped his head through the open door and whispered — "We're all ready. Come on !" "I've changed my mind, Tom — I'm not going!" He put the money away. "What!" "I said I'd changed my mind about going." "Aw ! you're on'y jokin'." "No, I'm not."

THE OPEN ROAD 627 "Well, why?" "Oh, I've been thinking. You know I'm a stranger in this place and it's harder for me to make good than anyone who's always lived here." He unconsciously fell into the phraseology of Mr. Walton. "And I don't want to get into any scrapes." "That's so," Tom asserted. "Believe you're right. Maybe I'd better not go myself. I'll tell the kids." "You'd better not go on that lark, Tom — if it means mischief !" Brocketts said with solemn emphasis. He would have liked to say more, but he felt that he would be betraying confidence if he did. And so he kept silence. What passed among the "kids" down in the stable he had no difficulty in learning. "Where's Brocketts?" demanded one boy. "Won't go !" Tom said, "an' I guess — " "Coward! coward!" yelled several. "Scart of the Red-heads!" put in one. "Scart of the Redheads!" Whereat everybody roared, and Brocketts winced. "Come on, kids — we're not scart! Are we, Tom?" cried the biggest lad, who, perhaps, suspected that Brocketts had influenced Tom slightly. "N — no !" replied that worthy. And, "scart" or no, the two made hilariously for the door, followed by the other five. Six o'clock of the next morning saw Brocketts up and making preparations for breakfast. When he went down the ladder for some water, he saw Tom already at his work. "Well, what kind of a lark did you have last night?" he inquired. "Aw, shut up !" Tom snapped. Brocketts said no more, but drew a pail of water from the pump and started up the ladder with it. "Say!" Tom shouted. "Come here a minute." Brocketts turned with his foot on the first rang. "Come here," repeated the stable-boy, "I want to tell you something." Brocketts dropped his pail of water and went near the stall where Tom was brushing down one of the horses.

628 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Why didn't you conic with us, Brock? What made you change your mind ?" "Thought T might get into trouble," replied Brocketts, "and I in too new here to get into trouble." "Guess you're right, old boy. I got into trouble !" "How do you know ?" "How do I know! Didn't Mr. Bernstein tell me so last night?" "Why, did you see him last night?" "Guess I did all right — and saw him hard, too. He caught us coming out of a saloon. I bumped right into him !" "What did he say?" Brocketts asked. "Oh, he only asked me what I was doing there at that time o' night." Brocketts turned to go. "And that ain't all, cither," Tom went on. Brocketts stopped to hear the rest. "Nothing would satisfy the kids but we must tick-tack Mr. Bernstein's house." "But you certainly wasn't fool enough to go with 'em after that." "Hold yer horses, Brock ! They didn't notify yours truly of their plans, else I reckon I'd not have went. Anyway, we ticktacked his window in good shape. I didn't know it was his, though, till he come out and grabbed me as T run away." "Well?" "He took me in the house where it was light. Gee, but I was scart !" Tom paused. "What did he say?" "Nothing but just this — 'You come to my office first thing in the morning.' And so I got my foot in it. See?" Brocketts saw well enough. He went away and about his breakfast more than seeing. He felt somehow as if this concerned him almost as closely as it did Tom. All through the morning, too, he thought about it. What a narrow escape he had had ! But was it an escape, after all? Would not Mr. Bernstein think he had had something to do with the affair. He knew, of course, that he had not, but he knew also that people sometimes get credit, more often discredit, for what they have no hand in.

THE OPEN ROAD ,,_>., And so he had a vague fear he could not get rid of what Mr. Bernstein would want to know if he had any connection with Tom's "lark." To be sure, he could say truthfully that he had not, but it was a disagreeable thing t.» have suspicions about you. It is so hard to get rid of them— if you ever do. And he was 30 anxious to get along, to make good. At noon he was relieved to find that he had not been called into the office. When he went to dinner he found a new boy at the stable in Tom's place. In the afternoon he thought less about the matter and so in a sense was relieved. But just before quitting time the voice of Mr. Walton rang out up one of the alleyways at the end of which Brocketts was boxing up tomato cans — "Brocketts, you're wanted in the office right away !" Stage IV. — Which Tells How Brocketts Leaves Cellartoivn. When Brocketts heard Walton's voice calling for him to go to the office, his heart bounded like a deer from the thicket with the hounds close at her heels, and then began to thump away in his bosom like a sledge-hammer. He knew now that it was all up with him, as he said to himself. Mr. Bernstein had got wind that he had intended to join Tom's "lark." Maybe he had got something more definite than wind. Surely, Tom had not implicated him in any way? But who knew? It was certain now that Mr. Bernstein had information. That was the only explanation he could give of the conversation between himself and Walton the day before. After all, there was very little that went on about the store or any of the employes, which did not reach the manager's ears. That he did not go with Tom or have anything to do with his escapade would or would not count with Mr. Bernstein according to circumstances. Not that Mr. Bernstein was unreasonable and arbitrary, but like every other man his judgment was formed by evidence; and the evidence might go against Brocketts. Anyway, Brocketts was determined to take his medicine without making a face. And so he went to take it. But it was not medicine. It was sugar, and a heaping spoonful at that.

630 IMPROVEMENT ERA "Brocketts," Mr. Bernstein said, "aren't you getting mighty tired of your job?" And then without waiting for him to answer, he went on : "Walton speaks very highly of you. He says you're a hard worker and that you can always be depended upon. That's the kind of men I want around here. And so I'm going to promote you. Tomorrow morning you call on Mr. Nickerson in the grocery department and he'll set you to work. Your wages will be five dollars a week. That's all." The thing almost took Brocketts off his feet. He felt like a man he had read of once who, in falling down a pit one dark night, grabbed a pole on his way down, and hung there for dear life till he could hang no longer, and then let go to fall — not a hundred feet as he had expected, but a contemptible three inches ! Only, Brocketts, instead of falling down a deep pit, had been lifted clear out of it. He thanked Mr. Bernstein profusely and awkwardly, and then took his way to his room. With what light feet did he trip it out of the store through the back way, through the stable, and up the ladder into the barnloft ! "Life," says the late lamented O. Henry, "is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with the sniffles predominating." This may be true of a girl, but it is not true of the normal boy. And a good thing it is for the philosophical reputation of Mr. Henry that he was speaking of a girl when he said it. To be sure, there is a period in every body's life when he does nothing but sob. It is confidently asserted by some older persons that there is a period in his life when he sighs like the west wind. But who ever heard of a boy sniffling ? No ! In a boy's life the smiles predominate. Of course, the smiles may be far apart. There may be a great deal between them that is anything but gladness. But a boy thinks nothing of that. What counts with him is the smiles. They may be all very brief, as such things are apt to be, but if they are only intense while they last — why, that is all that is necessary to make them permanent. A boy who has a few of these sprinkled over the area of his boyhood lives longer in a minute than your Methuselahs who are without them. Anyhow, Brocketts thought so. He was so happy that he could

THE OPEN ROAD 631 not eat. And he tumbled into bed early that be might lie there and think and plan. What a fine thing it was to be told you were making good ! Walton and Mr. Bernstein were pleased with what he was doing. What a tonic that was! He had thanked Mr. Bernstein. He would have to thank Walton. Glad as Brocketts was, his joy would have passed all bounds had be known that there really was no place for him in the grocery department and that Mr. Bernstein had deliberately created one. Brocketts meant to continue making good. It would not do to fail. He would never betray his employer's confidence in him. He would work hard and faithfully to increase that confidence. And, then, too, he would try to prepare himself for bigger things. With his hopeful imagination he saw himself rising to a clerkship in the grocery department, then to be head clerk, after that he would help manage the whole establishment, and finally take Mr. Bernstein's place. Rich men have confessed that the first hundred dollars saved came harder than the first ten thousand. Most likely, too, if they would tell us, it gave them more genuine satisfaction. Similarly the first rise in life, of whatever sort, gives greater joy than ever comes from any that follows. It acts as a spur to one's intent, and if one only gets the habit of rising — the thing is done. But Brocketts thought of more than merely rising and getting money. Indeed, this was only a small part of his thoughts. The rising in life was only a means to an end. He wanted it for the possibility, that ever lay present in it, of finding his parents. And so, as the night wore on, he lay there and planned how he would seek them. He would stay here till he came to be manager — perhaps assistant manager, but manager was better — and then get a leave of absence to make the search. It would not take long to climb to the management now that he had got started. But that other might. He did not doubt that he could find them. Tb delirium of joy lasted the greater part of the night. Next morning he was in the grocery department before any of the clerks had had time to take off their coats and put on their half-sleeves. "Mr. Nickerson," he said, "Mr. Bernstein told me to come to you this morning, and he said you'd set me to work."