Francis J. Finn

“ Once more Clarence raised his head and looked about him. The sun was now in mid-heaven and, shining down upon the boy’s unprotected calves and shoulders, promised to leave the memory of that adventurous day in scarlet characters upon his tender skin. On one side flowed the Wisconsin into the Mississippi; on the other the Iowa hills frowned down on him. The river itself was clear of craft. Water, water, everywhere; and standing sentinel over the mighty stream the hills of two sovereign states. Hotter and hotter fell the rays of the sun. ”

“ He was brave beyond his years. He had a craving for adventure. But, picture to yourself a lad in a thin blue bathing suit, in an oarless boat, alone on a great river. Clarence was really a good swimmer. He was at home in any lake; he had disported many a time in the salt water; but a river with its unknown dangers was new to him. The fear of the unknown, therefore, coupled with the warning of the butcher’s boy, kept him in the boat, when in fact he could easily have made the shore. Adventure is all very well in its way, but one likes to meet that fair goddess with reassuring companions. ”

“ They looked at each other, as Will and Dora made for the tent, with unutterable awe. Speech was inadequate; and still linked together they followed the brother and sister within.
On Dora’s couch, above him the dear statue for which he had given his life, lay Ben, the sweat and the pallor of death upon his face. On one side, his wife was staunching vainly a gash in his side. On the other, leaned the Rector, talking earnestly in low tones to the dying man. No king could have been more stately in life than was Ben in his dying moments. No saint could have been more humble. ”

“ There was, quite near the river, an avenue formed by nature, a clear space of nearly a hundred yards in length, bounded on the river side by willows and cottonwoods with a dense growth of shrubbery below, on the other by majestic elms. Up and down this court of nature walked brother and sister followed by the two amazed boys. The stabbing of Ben, his beautiful death, the reuniting of brother and sister had come together so closely, one upon the heels of the other, that Clarence and John were almost speechless. ”

“ My name’s Clarence Esmond,” said the lad, taking her hand and shaking it cordially. “There’s only one thing I’ve got against you.”
“Why? What have I done?” asked the little miss, dismay showing itself in her rounded blue eyes.
“It isn’t what you’ve done; it’s what you are.”
“Oh, indeed!” ejaculated Dora, her brows going up in bewilderment.
“Yes, indeed. I started out this morning in quest of my lady, the star-eyed goddess of adventure. I was just half in earnest. You see, I’ve been at Clermont Academy, New York, for three years, where nothing happened except three meals a day.” ”

“ Behold, gentle reader, Abe’s religion. He hated Catholics, and in doing so felt consciously pious. He belongs, it must be sadly confessed, to the largest church in the backwoods of America; the Great Unlettered Church. So worldly a thing as a railroad has been known to put their religion to flight.
“I’m not a Catholic myself,” said Clarence, losing for the moment his light manner, “and I believe they’re superstitious and away behind the times; but I don’t hate them. Anybody who reads books knows that there have been splendid men and women who were good Catholics. ”

“ Abe figured to himself an irate boat-owner waiting at the landing for the person who had had the boldness to take away his skiff. How, then, he reflected, could he collect his dollar, get Clarence back, and escape unobserved. One plan would be to land below McGregor and let Clarence go the rest of the way alone. But even that plan had its risks. Doubtless, there were boatmen on the river even now in quest of the missing craft. Much thinking was alien to Abe’s manner of life; continuous thinking, impossible. ”

“ In the camp-fire’s light Clarence perceived that they were, taking them all in all, swarthy, black-haired, clad like civilized people, and yet in that indescribable wild way of which gypsies possess the secret.
“Come on,” said the man, as the boat touched the shore.
“Excuse me,” said Clarence politely, “but I’m not dressed to meet visitors. The water is fine anyway; and it’s not near so dangerous as it’s cracked up to be. Can’t you get a fellow at least a pair of trousers?” ”

“ But the bright-eyed goddess of adventure was nearer than Clarence fancied. She took, on this occasion, the guise of a tramp, who, making his way along the railroad ties of the Chicago, Milwaukee, and St. Paul towards McGregor and chancing to see a youth in a white sailor-suit, thought it worth his while to pause upon his weary journey. ”

“ Very quietly the simple cortege proceeded to the Catholic burying ground; and when the last shovelful of earth was thrown on the coffin Dora stepped forward and laid upon the mound the flowers such as Ben once joyed to collect and place at the shrine of “that good woman who was the Mother of God.”
They were scarcely outside the graveyard, when the Rector addressed them:
“You have all had too much of tragedy these last days for your tender years. Dora is a free agent; Clarence is simply our guest; they have a right to a holiday. ”

“ Simultaneously with Clarence’s artless and unpremeditated dive, the strange swimmer came to the surface. He had thought, as our young adventurer subsequently learned, that the figure in the boat was a ghost. But ghosts do not tumble off boats into the water; neither do ghosts, when they come to the surface, blow and sputter and cough and strike out vigorously with an overhand stroke, which things the supposed ghost was now plainly doing. The stranger, therefore, taking heart of grace, laid the hand of proprietorship upon the boat once more. ”

“ I saw the bright-eyed goddess long enough to get a crack of her wand over the head, and she looked like you.”
“Like me?”
“Yes, your eyes are bright and blue, your complexion is what the novelists call dazzling, your hair is long and like the bearded corn when it is ripe. So was hers. The goddess wore a white dress. So do you.”
“I always wear white,” said Dora, simply. “When I was a baby, my mother consecrated me to the Blessed Virgin.”
“What, are you a Catholic, Dora?”
“Yes, Clarence; and mama kept me dressed in white with a blue sash till I was seven years of age. ”

“ Clarence was profoundly impressed by what he saw in the chapel. The boys—full, in ordinary, of mischief and life—were going about their devotions in earnest.
Clarence was seated next to John Rieler. That youth, when he was not singing lustily with the others, had his face buried in his prayer-book. Religion, Clarence perceived, entered intimately into the lives of nearly all these boys.
He was escorted by Rieler to breakfast, where he inspired much respect among the boys of the particular table at which he sat by his workmanlike way of getting through with the dishes served him. ”

“ Suddenly Clarence stopped, whirled around, and before his pursuer could realize the turn of events, plunged through the air, landing with both arms about the astounded man’s knees. The tramp went down with a suddenness to which few men are accustomed, and, assisted by a quick shove from the boy’s agile arm, started rolling from the tracks down an incline of some fifteen feet. By the time he had arisen to a sitting posture below and passed his hand over the several bruises on his head, the boy was back with Abe and lustily making his way up the hillside. ”

“ It was thirteen minutes to ten on the following morning when Master John Rieler of Campion College, second-year high, discovered that he earnestly desired to be excused from the classroom. It was a very warm day for September, the sun was shining with midsummer fervor, and John Rieler, who had spent the vacation on the banks of the Miami—whenever, that is, he did not happen to be between the banks—felt surging within him the call of the water. John, a smiling, good-natured native of Cincinnati, was in summer months apparently more at home in the water than on the land. ”

“ Clarence noticed with dismay that his boat, now at least twenty-five yards from the shore, was going down the stream at what seemed to him a very rapid rate.
In the meantime, Abe, having securely hid the money, stood on the shore and grinned triumphantly at the boy in the boat.
“You will use big words, will you? You will try to be funny, will you? You will shove me down the hill; you will come round here showing off in your dandy clothes! Next time you get a chanst, you won’t be so smart—Now, what have you got to say for yourself?” ”

“ About a week ago I was over at McGregor—”
“Halloa!” cried the Rector. “Why, they’re dragging the river for you.”
“They might as well stop; it’s no use,” said Clarence, taking the last piece of toast and looking regretfully at the empty beefsteak dish.
“My, but this is an adventure!” exclaimed the President. “So you’re not a moist corpse after all.”
The Squire’s eyes were sticking out of his head.
“If you were only dead,” he said to Clarence, “you’d be worth a thousand dollars to me.”
“I’m sorry I can’t please everybody,” said the youth, taking up the last slab of cornbread. ”

“ You do a little kindness to a poor boy, and after many years he sends you money to do some more kindness to other boys. You try it out on me, and then my father gets the same idea and wants you to try it out on somebody else.”
“Kindness is catching,” said Will Benton, the kindest boy in Campion College.
“‘Our echoes roll from soul to soul,’” quoted Clarence, “‘and grow forever and forever.’”
“The next thing for you to do, Clarence, is to go over to the Vice-President’s room and register. ”

“ The boy’s steps were faltering, and the Rector at once, noticing his weakness, caught him about the waist much as John Rieler had done, and bundled him into the refectory.
“This way, Father,” said the refectorian, trying to look as though he were accustomed to feeding bare-legged boys attired in table-covers and winter overcoats in summer-time; and the “Squire,” as he was popularly known among the students of Campion, pointed to a seat in front of which waited a plate of toast, a juicy bit of beefsteak and a huge slice of cornbread. ”

“ I was almost ready to join when I left you by the river route. The boys at Campion—especially John and Will—got me to thinking of it still more. But when I heard you as we got near your tent, talking to Ben and asking him if he wanted to be baptized, there seemed to be a sort of explosion in my brain. When it passed away, I was determined to be a Catholic. All hesitation was gone. If that Church doesn’t save my soul, nothing can do it.”
“Say, Clarence,” said Dora with a smile, “how about that lawyer?”
“Lawyer?”
“Yes: you proposed to adopt me. Can’t we find the right man at Prairie du Chien? ”

“ Clarence began with his departure from McGregor, the climb up and beyond Pictured Rocks, his long ride on the river, his encounter with the gypsies, his friendship for Ben, his long talks and walks with Dora, his troubles with Pete and his shrewish wife, his frequent swims in the river.
“And,” he continued, “when I made up my mind to get away somehow or other, I was hard as nails; I could swim for any length of time, it seemed to me, without losing my wind or my strength; and I could eat like a horse.”
“We all know that,” said the Infirmarian. ”

“ Again Clarence reflected.
“Oh!” he said, breaking into a smile, “I think I’ve got it. Leaving out that H you have Campion College. That’s it, I’ll bet; and Campion was a wonderful Jesuit priest, famous in history and novel. He died a martyr.”
Hereupon the butcher’s boy proceeded to express his sentiments on the Jesuits. He declared them at some length and with no little profanity.
“I think,” observed Clarence calmly, when Abe had stopped more for want of breath than of language, “that it’s about time to start down, if we want to have that swim. Be good enough, gentle youth, to lead the way.” ”