Chance of a Lifetime (4 page)

“Well, there’s something in that!” He grinned. “It is pretty comfortable here. I hadn’t thought of it, but it would be something to leave. However, let’s get down to brass tacks. Let’s run over that list and see what you need to get. Here. Sit down in that big chair. You look all in. I certainly wish I’d known you before and sometimes shared my home with you.”

Bob dropped into the offered chair.

“Boy!” he said. “What I’ve missed!”

And then the two went to work in earnest on the list.

When they finally turned in, there was a good understanding and a hearty liking between them that neither would have believed possible a few hours before. It was with genuine regret that they parted next morning, after eating breakfast together and walking downtown as far as the bank. Alan had insisted that he should be allowed to provide whatever of outfit Bob didn’t have but finally succeeded only in getting him to accept a loan until he could repay it. They stopped at the bank and Alan cashed a check from his own private, precious fund he had been saving toward a new car.

“This is coming back to you the very first bit of salary I can spare from actual expenses,” said Bob as he slipped the roll of bills in his inside pocket.

“If you scrimp yourself, old boy, I’ll take it unkindly. Remember you must keep in good condition, and this is the only share I can have in this affair. It really makes me feel good to have this much.”

“You can’t know how I appreciate it.” Bob beamed with a hearty grip of the other boy’s hand. “And the strange thing about it is, I wouldn’t have taken a red cent from you twenty-four hours before, if I lost all the chances in the universe. That’s how different I feel toward you.”

“Same here!” Alan grinned sheepishly. “What fools we were, pard! Might have had three years to look back upon. What a team we could have made out of that high school scrub if we had just hooked up forces instead of fighting! Hope I remember this lesson always.”

They parted at the street corner, Bob promising to report late that evening and spend the night again with Alan, since he was leaving for New York early the next morning.

As soon as he was alone, the burden of his father’s responsibilities settled down upon Alan’s shoulders heavily. The day looked long and hard before him. He must try to get in touch with the judge again. Perhaps he would have to run up to the city to see those real estate people on the ten o’clock train. How hot the sun seemed, and how uninteresting his own part in life! His heart was going shopping with Bob and selecting the right sweaters and shoes for the trip. But life was not all trips to Egypt. He had business that should engross his every energy.

In the store was a great pile of mail. Another letter of threatening portent from the enemy, with an undertone of assurance that made him uneasy. If he could only read just this one letter to Dad and see what he thought ought to be done about it. But that, of course, was out of the question.

The day proved to be even harder than he had feared. The judge was out of town. Nobody knew just when he would return. Meantime, he would have to act as if he were not going to return, for time was short and the crisis extreme.

He took the ten o’clock train for the city and chased a member of the real estate company for two hours, from place to place, finally locating him at his office at two o’clock—only to find that the purchaser who’d been so anxious to buy the city lots a few weeks before had gone to Europe for the summer, and the only price that could be raised on them quickly would be so inadequate that it was hardly worth the sacrifice.

The two or three other reliable mortgage and loan companies that his father had suggested seemed unwilling to undertake negotiations outside of the city, and at five o’clock, with all offices closing and no idea what to do next, Alan took the train for Rockland again, weary, downhearted, and hungry, not having had time to stop for lunch. He would like to have put his head down on the car windowsill and cried, though it was years since he had shed a tear. The breeze that swept in at the window was hot to suffocation, and perhaps reminded him of the desert to which he was not going. He tried, as he closed his eyes, to send up a sort of prayer, but it seemed so utterly desultory that he felt as if it had not reached the car ceiling.

Oh, God, please do something for me about this mortgage! I’m all in, and I don’t know what to do. Please, for Dad’s sake, don’t let me wreck the business because I’m dumb. Show me where to go and what to do! And help me not to keep thinking about Egypt like a crybaby!

That was his prayer that went over and over, inarticulately, till the train arrived in

Rockland.

A
lan looked anxiously out of the car window as he swung to his feet in the aisle, with a vague hope that perhaps he might catch a glimpse of the tall form of Judge Whiteley looming up among the people on the platform. But all he saw was Bob Lincoln with his arms full of bundles, watching the people coming out of the car, an eager look on his face, a light in his eyes that somehow brought a strange new thrill to Alan’s heart as he realized that this young man, who had been his enemy, was looking for him.

He felt inexplicably glad when he saw the smile that broke over Bob’s face at the sight of him. The other boy rushed forward and greeted him eagerly. “I thought perhaps you’d be on this train,” he said, falling alongside and fitting his stride to Alan’s. “The boy you left in the store told me you’d gone to town, so I took a chance and met the train. Just thought I’d like to report progress and show you this wire that came from the prof this morning. Didn’t expect another word from him, so it sort of took me off my feet. You certainly must have given some line about me. I hadn’t any reason to expect any such send-off from you. I feel like two cents to think how I sized you up. I always thought you’d like to wipe the earth with me, but you’ve certainly made me feel ashamed. Why, man, your recommend must have been a crackerjack! Just gaze on that!” And he handed Alan a telegram.

Something glad broke loose in Alan’s heart that lifted his spirits. It was good to have this other fellow going—good to have put him into it.

“That’s great!” he said cheerily. “But I didn’t do a thing, really only suggested your name.”

“H’m!” said Bob significantly. “Shows how much your suggestion is worth. Look here, man. It’s
you
going on this expedition, not me. See? All the time I’m gone, I’m thinking that, see? I’m
you
, not myself. I’ve got to be what you would be if you had gone.”

Afterward, Bob’s words came back to Alan; once, months later, when he had a question as to which course of two he, as a Christian, should follow, then suddenly he remembered Bob and his way cleared. Why, that was exactly the way it was with a Christian. It wasn’t he, Alan MacFarland, that was deciding whether to do this or that, it was Jesus Christ.
He
was not living, Christ was living in him. Strange he had never thought of that before. And it took Bob Lincoln, a fellow who wasn’t a Christian at all, to show him where he actually stood in this world—if he really meant what he had professed.

Bob declined to go home with Alan to supper, saying he must go see his brother-in-law and it was the only time he could find him at home, but he promised to come back and spend the night and be there as early as he could make it after nine o’clock. He had to pack. He showed Alan the sweater he had bought, and tore paper from his new shoes, exhibiting them with pleasure.

“And I’ve saved on several things,” he said. “There’s ten dollars more than I really need that I’m returning to you now.”

“Try and do it!” said Alan, eluding Bob and striding off toward the hardware store with a merry wave of his hand.

“Get even with you yet!” yelled Bob merrily and went off toward his brother-in-law’s house.

A sort of sick premonition went over Alan as he approached the store. He wondered if there had been any developments.

“Any phone calls?” he asked the clerk, who had been restively watching the clock, anxious to get out and play baseball with the Twilight League, and wanting his supper besides.

“Yep!” the lad said. “Couple! Real estate man in the city, Spur and Holden, said they’d had an offer from a man on yer lots. He’d give you a thousand less than yer price, and they advised ya ta accept. Said it was the best you’d get this time of year. And then a fella, name’s Rawlins, called up and said he had a proposition ta make, but ya had to come ta terms before eleven o’clock tamarra, ur it was all off.”

“Thanks,” said Alan wearily without a change of expression; both messages had been like broadsides. “Just stop in at the restaurant and ask ‘em to send me a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich, won’t you? I haven’t time to go home just now.”

Then Alan climbed into his father’s desk chair and attacked the mail that had arrived. All but two of the letters were bills, and most of them asked for immediate payment. Why did everybody seem to be in need of money at once? The two that were not bills occupied him the rest of the evening, telephoning and telegraphing, trying to reach men who seemed to have hidden themselves beyond recall.

Alan also called his mother and found that his father was still under opiates, and the doctor felt that he would not be able to tell for several days yet just how severe the injuries were. He said he was still holding his own, however. Alan thought his mother’s voice sounded tired and anxious. She wanted to know how business was going and he tried to reassure her, but his voice almost broke.

It was growing dark in the store. The boy shoved the thick restaurant cup and saucer aside and flung his head down on his arms across the desk.

How hot and tired he was. How utterly he was failing in trying to take his father’s place in the store. And, out a few blocks away, his substitute for the desert was joyously preparing for the time of his life. Only another day and he would be away into a great world filled with wonderful experiences.

And only another day and the enemy would be upon himself and his father’s business, and the judge was still away. The judge was his only hope now. He knew not where else to turn. Tomorrow morning he would have that awful Rawlins to deal with, and what would be his proposition? If he only knew! If he only had someone to consult with! There would be some humiliating terms offered, of course. Oh, if he could take that infamous little Rawlins out behind the store and thrash him and set matters right! Perhaps he would, if things got pretty bad, anyway. Perhaps he would not be able to control his anger and would get into a fight, and then there would be a lawsuit in addition to all the other trouble. Or even something worse! Then what would Dad say?

He groaned softly as he thought of all the possibilities. Then suddenly the clock struck nine, and he realized that Bob had promised to meet him at the house. He must go back and look cheerful, and hear Bob talk eagerly of his plans.

Life was hard! Here was he bearing burdens he was not fit for, and missing the chance of a lifetime.

Alan reached for his hat, but as he did so, the telephone rang out sharply in the empty store. With a wild hope that this might be Judge Whiteley, Alan reached for the receiver.

But it was only Sherrill Washburn calling, in her capacity of president of the young people’s group in the church.

“Is that you, Alan?” The tired boy thought her voice sounded like cool, sweet petals, blowing in the breeze. “Your mother said I’d find you at the store. I’ve been thinking, Alan. You know that fund we have for Bibles? Why shouldn’t we give one to Robert Lincoln to take with him? Or do you think he would be offended? He’s never been to any of our meetings, nor been with our crowd very much. But I thought—somehow—we hadn’t ever tried very much. I thought—maybe—you could give it to him somehow. I wouldn’t like him to feel—we were—well—trying to missionarize him or anything! Do you think it would do, or not?”

“Sure!” said Alan heartily, albeit with the least twinge of jealousy, which he knew at once was beneath him. Now, if he had been the one who was going to the desert, Sherrill would be getting this Bible for him, and how wonderful it would be—whispered the tempter—to have a Bible like that to take out in the desert and read, and feel they were all praying—

“Sure!” said Alan again, recognizing the natural man cropping up and trying to grind it beneath his heel. “Make it a good one. I believe it will
please
him. I sure do. Can we get it in time? He leaves early in the morning, you know.”

“Yes,” said Sherrill eagerly, “we got two the last time, you remember, as premiums for those who passed the examinations in the Bible course, and Cameron went away before the contest ended and we had it left over.”

“Sure, I remember. Say! Those were Scofield Bibles, too, weren’t they? Boy! I’m glad about that, for I don’t think he knows the first thing about what the Bible means, and a Scofield Bible will be so helpful about understanding the dispensations and covenants and things like that. That was a great idea, Sherry.”

“Then you’ll give it to him?”

“Sure thing, Sherry. But not as a gift, you know. I’ll say it was a gift from the crowd. I’ll make him understand. A reminder of us all at home or something like that. I’ll give him that list of the Bible study we are all taking together. Haven’t you got an extra copy?”

“Oh, yes! That’s fine. Tell him to join our group in reading and then we can send him the examination slips every month. Tell him we want to count him as one of our group.”

“Sure!” said Alan. “That’s a great idea, Sherry! A sort of a binder to home. How about getting word around to the crowd and having them down to the train station in the morning? Just give him a little send-off. Do you think they would do it?”