Read Ebook: The Y. M. C. A. boys of Cliffwood; by Henderley Brooks

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Ebook has 1203 lines and 56112 words, and 25 pages

Mr. Thomas Holwell, the best-loved pastor in Cliffwood, shook hands most heartily with the fine looking young fellow whom he had met on the main street of the town about eight o'clock in the morning of that first day of November.

Harry Bartlett was the only son of the head of the big paper mills. He had always been a credit to the town, and won many honors for his school both with regard to scholarships and in athletics. Two years in college had seen him getting along famously, when a change in his father's health caused him to alter all his plans, bringing him back home to assume some of the business cares.

"Oh! I find plenty of time to be doing some other things that I care for, in spite of the heavy work at the mills," replied young Bartlett, cheerily.

"Yes, I know you are taking a deep interest in the work at our local Y. M. C. A.," the older gentleman went on to say, still gripping Harry's hand warmly in his. "It was largely through the benevolence of your good father that we were able to hire that building, and establish a home for our many young men, where they could be kept off the street nights, and enjoy themselves in clean sport."

The boys and young men in Cliffwood had no better friend in all that region than the Rev. Thomas Holwell. It had been largely through his hearty labors that the idea of having a local Y. M. C. A. finally assumed definite shape, and leading men of the town had subscribed enough money to put the project through.

"I fancy the younger element in town must have been pretty busy last night," Harry remarked, partly to change the subject, for he was very modest, and never liked to hear his own praises sung, even by the minister whom he loved so well.

"Oh! as to that," the older gentleman observed, "we always expect something along the line of innocent pranks to happen on that one boys' night of the year. Wise people take in their doormats and clothes-poles. Some I know even make it a point to hide all gates that are removable, ash barrels, and such things. We mustn't forget that we were boys ourselves once upon a time."

Harry laughed as though some memories connected with sundry doings along those same lines haunted him.

"They seem to be getting bolder every year, I'm afraid," he continued. "I was out for a tramp as a sort of bracer, after daylight this morning, and wondered what on earth old Farmer Hasty could be doing up on the roof of his big barn. It seems some boys had taken one of his wagons all apart, and fastened the wheels along the ridge-pole. He was pretty mad about it too."

Mr. Holwell sighed and shook his head.

"Some of those boys are getting to be pretty wild, I'm afraid, Harry," he went on to remark, reflectively. "They pursue their desire for fun too far. I've been doing more or less hard thinking lately about them, and mean to have a serious talk with you soon, to see if something can be done to lead that love for a frolic in the right channel."

"Here comes Mr. Nocker, and looking more severe than I ever knew him to be," remarked Harry Bartlett. "I wonder if any of the boys have been playing practical jokes on the deacon. I can remember doing that same thing, and once got a good drenching in the bargain from a bucket of water at his hands."

"Good morning, Deacon Nocker," said Mr. Holwell, as the richest storekeeper in Cliffwood reached them. "Harry here was saying you looked worried this fine morning. I hope you have not had anything more happen to trouble you?"

The crabbed old man shook his head as he hastened to reply to this question.

"I'm on my way straight to the office of the Chief of Police, to swear out warrants against three boys of this town, who entered my house late last night, forcing a window just like ordinary burglars. It's high time the perverted natures of our boys were checked. I'll see to it these three are put under bonds to behave themselves. I've stood enough, and this outrage is the last straw that breaks the patient camel's back."

"Who are the three lads, Deacon Nocker?" asked Mr. Holwell, with deep anxiety in his voice, for he loved all boys, and believed in them.

"I found this cap on my floor after I'd frightened the lot off, and it's marked Dick Horner," the old man hastened to say, triumphantly flourishing the head gear as he spoke. "Then I recognized two other young scamps as Elmer Jones and Daniel Fenwick. I'm going to have the law on them for breaking in. The rest of the crowd had some silly sort of white gowns like sheets on, so I didn't see their faces. But the police will find out who they were, never fear."

"They must have been trying to play ghost, thinking to frighten you, Mr. Nocker!" exclaimed Harry, trying hard to repress the smile he felt creeping over his face, for possibly he may have been guilty of some such prank in his younger days.

"No matter what they meant to do," retorted the old man, angrily. "It was next door to a crime to break into a private house as they did. And trying to frighten any one through such outrageous means might end in serious results, in case the victim were afflicted with heart trouble, as I am. I shall see that Dick Horner and his companions are made to suffer for their escapade."

He was about to move on when Mr. Holwell caught his arm.

"Please wait a minute, Deacon Nocker," said the minister, seriously. "You might in your calmer moments regret having caused the Widow Horner additional sorrow. We all know she has seen enough, as it is. If you will listen to my advice it may not be necessary for you to proceed to such extreme measures as to cause the arrest of those good-hearted, but reckless, lads."

"Boys should be taken in hand and treated severely if you want them to amount to anything, Mr. Holwell," protested the storekeeper, who, nevertheless, entertained considerable respect for his pastor, and consequently did not break away from his gentle, detaining grasp.

"But the Good Book tells us not to refrain from using the rod," urged the storekeeper. "I have heard you read that passage more than a few times, Mr. Holwell."

"Yes, but use it in moderation," explained the minister, "and then only in love. If I had a boy of my own I would never whip or punish him for heedless things he may have done without a heart-to-heart talk with him afterwards, and a reconciliation. Harsh actions do not profit one in the case of boys. I really believe it only serves to make them think they are being imposed upon, and their liberties destroyed, which leads to open rebellion."

"Well, since you ask it as a favor, Mr. Holwell," the deacon went on to say, reluctantly, "I will promise to forego my threat this time. But it is the last opportunity for those three young jackanapes. If they ever attempt to bait me again, I will surely bring them to book, no matter what ill feeling it causes."

"Thank you, Deacon," said the minister, shaking the old man's hand, which was put in his rather reluctantly it must be confessed. "On my part, I promise you that something is soon going to be done to curb the reckless habit our boys have of seeking excitement, and what they call fun. I think we shall be able to make a considerable difference in their habits, once we get started."

At that prophecy the crabbed old man snorted.

"I imagine that will happen, Mr. Holwell," he said, sneeringly, "when the heavens fall, or water starts to run uphill. Kind words never yet controlled youthful spirits. It's strap-oil that is needed to make decent men of them."

"Ah! yes, but even that stern method often fails, Deacon," the minister gently reminded him, and the old man's face went whiter than usual, while speech failed him utterly; for like a stab there must have come to him the remembrance of the bright-faced young fellow he had sent away from home years ago, and whom he never saw again in life.

He broke away from the hand of the minister, and muttering to himself, stamped off; but both of them saw that at least he was now headed for his store, and not in the direction of police headquarters.

Mr. Holwell and Harry Bartlett stood there looking after him. The young fellow appeared somewhat amused, but his companion was very grave, and the lines on his forehead told that serious thoughts were gripping him.

"Things are getting worse all the while, it seems, Harry," remarked the minister, finally. "Our boys are constantly becoming more reckless, it strikes me, in their desire to have what they call fun. The times are changing, and we must change with them. What answered in my younger days will not fill the bill in these times."

"I'm afraid you're about right there, sir," Harry admitted. "Even I can notice that boys are getting out of hand very fast. They hesitate at nothing when out for a good time. And I run across a great many boys loitering on the street corners as late as ten o'clock at night."

"Mostly because their homes have not been made attractive enough for them," the observant minister went on to say. "But I've tried in vain to get the co-operation of their parents. Something else must be done, some way found whereby we can obtain and hold the interest of these half-grown lads. And Harry, a brilliant idea flashed into my mind last night while I sat alone brooding in my study."

"I should like to hear what it is, then."

"First of all I want to tell you, Harry, that I shall surely need your hearty backing if the plan I have in view is going to meet with a shadow of success."

"Before I hear a word of your scheme, sir, I can promise you that much," said the younger member of the newly reorganized firm of Bartlett & Company, with hearty emphasis.

"I felt sure I could count on your whole-souled assistance, Harry!" Mr. Holwell exclaimed, joyously. "Like myself you believe in boys to the utmost."

"Then tell me what it is you have been considering, sir," urged Harry.

"A radical step in our service for young men and boys," said the minister, with flashing eyes, and enthusiasm beaming from every feature of his rosy, healthy face. "It is nothing more or less than to start a junior organization in the Y. M. C. A., giving younger lads a chance to form a club, granting them the privileges of the gymnasium, the reading rooms, and admission to the lecture course as well. What do you say to that, Harry?"

"A splendid scheme, Mr. Holwell, and I'll go into it with all my heart and soul."

"Come over to the parsonage tonight, then, Harry, and fetch your father along. I'll have a few other people, ladies as well, present, and we'll talk over the project; but I tell you now once for all we must push it through; no halfway measure will do. Call it eight this evening, Harry. And here's wishing great luck to the Boys' Department of the Y. M. C. A.!"

SOME WONDERFUL NEWS

Two days after the Hallowe'en episode, Dick Horner, walking along the main street of Cliffwood, stopped to look in at the window of the sporting goods establishment. The display of guns, fishing tackle, football and hockey requirements, as well as many games for home and club entertainment, always possessed a peculiar fascination for Dick.

He sighed now as he surveyed these tempting things, for money being always a scarce commodity at the little Horner cottage, poor Dick could not afford to squander much on luxuries.

A hearty slap on the back awakened him from his little day dream. Turning quickly he found that his chum, Leslie Capes, was standing beside him, with a broad smile on his face.

"Made up your mind which gun you want, old fellow?" the newcomer asked, jauntily. "Or perhaps now it was some of that football stuff you were mapping out to buy?"

Dick laughed to hide the spasm that shot through his heart; for he realized that he needed a new suit of clothes more than he did any of those fine articles so temptingly displayed.

"Well, I haven't decided just yet, Leslie," he said, lightly enough, considering what his feelings had been a moment before. "I'm glad you came along, for I was just on the point of going over to your house to see you."

"I'll wager a cookey I can guess what your errand was," remarked the other.

"Give a try then," Dick went on to say. "I don't believe you'll come within a thousand yards of it."

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