The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey | Page 4

I think people must have nagged him, and made him feel
ugly. But I've been wondering, Thad, what if Nick could have a
revelation about like the one that came to Jean Valjean at the time that
splendid old priest, looking straight at the thief when the officers
dragged him back with those silver candlesticks and spoons hidden
under his dirty blouse, told them the men had committed no wrong,
because he, the priest, had given the silver to him; which we know he
had done in his mind, after discovering how he had been robbed."
Thad shook his head in a dogged fashion, as though by no means
convinced.
"I reckon you'd be just the one to try that crazy scheme, Hugh, if ever
the chance came to you; but mark me when I say it'd all be wasted on
Nick."
"But why should you be so sure of that?" asked the other. "The
ex-convict was pictured as the lowest of human animals. Hugo painted
him as hating every living being, because of his own wrongs; and
believing that there was no such thing as honor and justice among
mankind. It was done to make his change of heart seem all the more
remarkable; to prove that a fellow can never sink so low but that there
may be a chance for him to climb up again, if only he makes up his
mind."
Thad laughed then, a little skeptically still, it must be confessed.
"Oh! that sounds all very fine, in a story, Hugh, but it'd never work out
in real life. According to my mind that Nick Lang will go along to the
end of the book as a bad egg. He'll fetch up in the penitentiary, or
reform school, some of these fine days. I've heard Chief Wambold has

declared that the next time he has anything connected with breaking the
law on Nick he expects to take him before the Squire, and have him
railroaded to the Reformatory; and he means it, too."
"Well, you can hardly blame the Chief," agreed Hugh, "because Nick
and his pals, Leon Disney and Tip Slavin, have certainly made life hard
for the police force of Scranton for years back. Brush fires have been
started maliciously, just to see the fire-laddies run with the machine and
create a little excitement; orchards have been robbed time and again;
and, in fact, dozens of pranks more or less serious been played night
after night, all of which mischief is laid at the door of Nick Lang, even
if much of it can't be actually traced there."
"Of course, what you say is the exact truth, Hugh."
"Give dog Tray a bad name, and he gets it right and left," chuckled
Hugh. "I've had an idea that once in a while some of the more respected
fellows in town may have broken loose, and gone on night expeditions.
They felt pretty safe in doing it, because every citizen would believe
Nick was the guilty one. But, in spite of your thinking my idea
impossible, I'd be tempted to try it out, if ever I ran across the chance.
It'd settle a thing I've worried over more than a little."
No more was said on that subject, though afterwards Thad had it
brought to his attention again, and in a peculiar way at that.
The two boys separated a little further on, each heading homeward.
On the following morning it was found that their predictions
concerning the weather had been amply verified. The mercury had
dropped away down in the tube of the thermometer, and every
youngster had a happy look on his or her face at school, as though the
prospect for skating brought almost universal satisfaction.
Thad, with several others, had gone out to Hobson's mill-pond to try the
new ice after high school had dismissed for the week-end. Hugh
wanted to accompany them very much, but he had promised his mother
to spend a couple of hours that afternoon in mending something, which

had gone for a long time. And once his word was given Hugh never
broke it, no matter how alluring the prospect of sport might be abroad.
It was about half-past three in the afternoon.
Hugh sat in his den amidst his prized possessions. He was working on
his lessons so as to get them out of the way, as there was some sort of
affair scheduled for that evening, which he meant to attend; and he
would be too tired after skating all day on Saturday to study any that
night, as he well knew.
Several times he glanced over to where his carefully polished and
well-sharpened skates, strapped together, lay on a side table. Each look
caused him to shrug his shoulders a bit. He could easily