“Hold on there, Larry,” cried young Heaton, warmly. “You have no right to say that. You will never want for friends. You have a town-full of them, and when you need anyone to stand by and back you up in anything you undertake, you can just put out your hand, without getting off of this rail, to find one friend that will be the man to stand right there as long as he is wanted.”
Larry laid his hand on Albert’s knee as he said, “I know that, Al, and it is good to know it and to have you say it in that straightforward way of yours, and I will say too, that your father called me into the mill, the other day, and said pretty much the same thing to me; and he told me that he should consider it a favor, or something of that sort, if I would allow him to have a fatherly lookout for the folks at home, while I am off, this summer, in case anything should happen.” And Larry’s honest blue eyes filled with moisture as he looked far off over the outlying prairie, in the vain effort to conceal how deeply he had felt the kindness showed to him.
“That was very good of the Governor, I’m sure,” said Albert, stoutly, “and I don’t care if he is my father of whom I am saying it. But it’s nothing more than fair for him, and for the rest of us who stay at home, to do what we can to keep your mind at ease about your folks while you are out in the ball field for the summer. But what I was getting at is this: Ben Burton is down on you; he will try to get the advantage of you, if he can; and, what is of more consequence to all of us, he would not scruple to bring the whole club into disgrace for the sake of gratifying any selfish purpose that he might happen to have in view.”
“But what evil purpose could he have?” demanded Larry.
“As I said before, I don’t know. I don’t want to do Ben an injustice, but I do know that he is underhanded and mean. So you look out for him. As far as his relations to you are concerned, I might say, if you were not so everlastingly toploftical about it, that he is jealous of you on account of your supposed good standing with Alice Howell—”
“Oh, hush‑h‑h‑h!” cried Larry, looking around in unfeigned consternation, to see if there were listeners near. “You really must not mention that young lady’s name in that manner, nor in any manner connected with my own. It would be almost insulting to her, it would fill the Judge with wrath (and I shouldn’t blame him for being angry), to know that gossiping young fellows like us were using his daughter’s name in this light fashion.”
“And why, I should like to know?” answered Albert. “He need not put on any high and mighty airs. I have heard my father say that when the Howellses came here from Kentucky, when the Stone River country was first settled, and old man Hixon was running his ferry across the stream here, they were so poor that they wore bed-ticking clothes, went barefoot, and lived on hog and hominy for many a year afterwards. Side-meat was good enough for them then. The fat of the land is not good enough for them now. It just makes me sick! Such airs!” And honest Albert got down from the fence to give freer expression to his deep disgust.
Larry went away from this casual meeting with his staunch friend Albert with a sense of depression. His nature was unsuspicious and he chose to think that all men were as honest and as frank as he certainly was. Young Heaton’s talk had shaken his faith in human nature as far as that was represented in one man—Ben Burton, the open-eyed and bluff Ben Burton. No wonder Larry repelled Al Heaton’s notion that Ben “was not altogether square” and should be watched.
Larry was to stop at Armstrong’s blacksmith shop, on the north side, on his way home, to have his horse shod. So, as he was leading the animal across the bridge, lost in thought and dwelling somewhat darkly on his conversation with Al Heaton, he did not notice that a young lady, very charmingly dressed and daintily booted and gloved, was tripping along toward him from the opposite side of the river, in the foot-walk that skirted the lower side of the rickety old wooden bridge. He did not look up until his steed, never very easily startled out of a heavy and slouching gait, jumped wildly at a sudden flash from a sky-blue parasol which the young lady deliberately shook at him.
“Whoa, Nance!” cried Larry, astonished at the beast’s unprecedented skittishness, “you old fool!” but here he stopped, for his eyes fell on the bewitching apparition on the other side of the timbered rail, and he colored deeply red as he beheld Miss Alice ready to giggle at his confusion.
“Good day, Mr. Boyne,” said the girl, “I am glad I have met you. I wanted to ask you how the club is getting along, and if you think you will be in good condition for the coming season. To be sure, papa tells me that he has every confidence in your success; but then, papa is hardly a judge in baseball matters, you know, although he has learned a great deal lately, and so have many other people, and they all seem very confident; but the wish is father to the thought, you know, and so I thought I would like to see
