The Boy Scout Treasure Hunters | Page 6

the reform school. He had not yet learned
that the power of God may even overrule our evil for good. But he was
quite willing to agree that his good fortune in meeting the Gates family
might be God's providence.
He felt his good fortune still more when Mrs. Gates insisted that he
must stay with them at least one night. He yielded, thinking that he
would get up very early and slip away before they were astir in the
morning. But the excitement of the day had such an effect that he
overslept and did not waken until called to breakfast.
The effect of this family was something such as Glen had never known.
All they knew of him was his name, but they took him at his word.
They accepted his statements without a question--a most unusual thing
in his experience. They showed him every kindness. At breakfast Mr.
Gates heaped his plate with good things. They were so cordial in their
invitation to stay and rest for awhile that he could not refuse them.
They showed to him such a spirit of love as made him feel that, after all,
Christian people were different from others, and to begin to be sorry
that he had taken advantage of the good, old superintendent. They
planted in his softened heart seeds of kindness and love which were
bound to blossom.
Glen stayed two days, and might have remained longer, but on the
morning of the third day, coming down early, he picked up the day-old

paper which Mr. Gates had been reading. It was folded back at a place
which told of his disappearance from the reform school. He was
ashamed to look again in their faces, so he stole out the back way,
passed through the barn, and thus made his way out into the dusty road.
His thoughts, as he trudged along, were far from cheerful. Although he
had strong, boyish desires to fare forth into the world alone, he much
disliked to leave this cheery home. Had he been a clean, honorable boy
with a good record he might have stayed there and learned to be a man.
His gloomy thoughts were diverted by the sight of a man who seemed
to be having troubles of his own. He was down at the side of an
automobile, perspiring freely and vexed with the whole world as he
unsuccessfully labored at changing a tire. The automobile was no
ordinary car. It had a driver's seat in front and a closed car behind like
the closed delivery wagons Glen had seen in town. Bright colored
letters announced to the world that J. Jervice supplied the public with a
full line of novelties, including rugs, curtains, rare laces and Jervice's
Live Stock Condition Powders.
"Can I help you," volunteered Glen. It is worthy of note that the service
was freely offered before the man spoke so much as a word. It had not
been Glen's habit to volunteer help. He was feeling the influence of the
home he had just left.
The offer was not kindly received. The man's reply was so churlish as
to leave open the suspicion that he was not naturally a man of pleasant
ways.
"Garn away f'm here," he snarled. "I don't need no boys spyin' around
my car."
"Who's spyin'?" asked Glen defiantly. "You seem to need somebody
pretty bad. You ain't man enough to strip that tire off."
"Nor nobody else wouldn't be," declared the man. "Leastways nobody
with jest one pair of hands. While I pry it off one end it slips back on
the other. Are you strong?" he asked, stopping to look at Glen.

"I'm pretty stout for my age," admitted Glen, modestly, "but I don't
want to help nor spy, if you don't want me."
"I could use another pair of hands," the peddler admitted. "I can't pay
you nothing for it, though, unless it be a ride to town."
"That is just what I want," agreed Glen. "It's a bargain."
The perspiration of Mr. J. Jervice had not been without occasion. The
tire he was trying to change had done good service--it was, in fact, the
very first tire that wheel had ever carried. Perhaps it cherished fond
hopes of remaining in service as long as the wheel to which it clung--at
least it resisted most strenuously all efforts to detach it. Both Glen and
the man were moist with their efforts before it came away, and they
accumulated still more dirt and moisture in applying its successor. But
at last it was all done, and Glen had already mounted to the seat, while
his companion was putting away his tools, when a cart drove up
alongside and Glen recognized in the driver, Mr. Gates.
"What's the matter?" he