Books: Jo\'s Boys

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As she spoke Emil had risen and stood listening with his cap off
and a grave, bright look as if taking orders from a superior officer;
when she ended, he answered briefly, but heartily:

'Please God, I will!'

'That's all; I have little fear for you, but one never knows when or
how the weak moment may come, and sometimes a chance word
helps us, as so many my dear mother spoke come back to me now
for my own comfort and the guidance of my boys,' said Mrs Jo,
rising; for the words had been said and no more were needed.

'I've stored 'em up and know where to find 'em when wanted. Often
and often in my watch I've seen old Plum, and heard you and
Uncle talking so plainly, I'd have sworn I was here. It is a rough
life, Aunty, but a wholesome one if a fellow loves it as I do, and
has an anchor to windward as I have. Don't worry about me, and
I'll come home next year with a chest of tea that will cheer your
heart and give you ideas enough for a dozen novels. Going below?
All right, steady in the gangway! I'll be along by the time you've
got out the cake-box. Last chance for a good old lunch ashore.'

Mrs Jo descended laughing, and Emil finished his ship whistling
cheerfully, neither dreaming when and where this little chat on the
house-top would return to the memory of one of them.

Dan was harder to catch, and not until evening did a quiet moment
come in that busy family; when, while the rest were roaming
about, Mrs Jo sat down to read in the study, and presently Dan
looked in at the window.

'Come and rest after your long tramp; you must be tired,' she
called, with an inviting nod towards the big sofa where so many
boys had reposed as much as that active animal ever does.

'Afraid I shall disturb you'; but Dan looked as if he wanted to stay
his restless feet somewhere.

'Not a bit; I'm always ready to talk, shouldn't be a woman if I were
not,' laughed Mrs Jo, as Dan swung himself in and sat down with
an air of contentment very pleasant to see.

'Last day is over, yet somehow I don't seem to hanker to be off.
Generally, I'm rather anxious to cut loose after a short stop. Odd,
ain't it?' asked Dan, gravely picking grass and leave's out of his hair
and beard; for he had been lying on the grass, thinking many
thoughts in the quiet summer night.

'Not at all; you are beginning to get civilized. It's a good sign, and
I'm glad to see it,' answered Mrs Jo promptly. 'You've had your
swing, and want a change. Hope the farming will give it to you,
though helping the Indians pleases me more: it is so much better to
work for others than for one's self alone.' 'So 'tis,' assented Dan
heartily. 'I seem to want to root somewhere and have folks of my
own to take care

of. Tired of my own company, I suppose, now I've seen so much
better. I'm a rough, ignorant lot, and I've been thinking maybe I've
missed it loafing round creation, instead of going in for education
as the other chaps did. Hey?'

He looked anxiously at Mrs Jo; and she tried to hide the surprise
this new outburst caused her; for till now Dan had scorned books
and gloried in his freedom.

'No; I don't think so in your case. So far I'm sure the free life was
best. Now that you are a man you can control that lawless nature
better; but as a boy only great activity and much adventure could
keep you out of mischief. Time is taming my colt, you see, and I
shall yet be proud of him, whether he makes a pack-horse of
himself to carry help to the starving or goes to ploughing as
Pegasus did.'

Dan liked the comparison, and smiled as he lounged in the
sofa-corner, with the new thoughtfulness in his eyes.

'Glad you think so. The fact is it's going to take a heap of taming to
make me go well in harness anywhere. I want to, and I try now and
then, but always kick over the traces and run away. No lives lost
yet; but I shouldn't wonder if there was some time, and a general
smash-up.'

'Why, Dan, did you have any dangerous adventures during this last
absence? I fancied so, but didn't ask before, knowing you'd tell me
if I could help in any way. Can I?' And Mrs Jo looked anxiously at
him; for a sudden lowering expression had come into his face, and
he leaned forward as if to hide it. 'Nothing very bad; but 'Frisco
isn't just a heaven on earth, you know, and it's harder to be a saint
there than here,' he answered slowly; then, as if he had made up his
mind to ''fess', as the children used to say, he sat up, and added
rapidly, in a half-defiant, half-shamefaced way, 'I tried gambling,
and it wasn't good for me.'

'Was that how you made your money?'

'Not a penny of it! That's all honest, if speculation isn't a bigger
sort of gambling. I won a lot; but I lost or gave it away, and cut the
whole concern before it got the better of me.'

'Thank heaven for that! Don't try it again; it may have the terrible
fascination for you it has for so many. Keep to your mountains and
prairies, and shun cities, if these things tempt you, Dan. Better lose
your life than your soul, and one such passion leads to worse sins,
as you know better than I.'

Dan nodded, and seeing how troubled she was, said, in a lighter
tone, though still the shadow of that past experience remained:

'Don't be scared; I'm all right now; and a burnt dog dreads the fire.
I don't drink, or do the things you dread; don't care for 'em; but I
get excited, and then this devilish temper of mine is more than I
can manage. Fighting a moose or a buffalo is all right; but when
you pitch into a man, no matter how great a scamp he is, you've
got to look out. I shall kill someone some day; that's all I'm afraid
of. I do hate a sneak!' And Dan brought his fist down on the table
with a blow that made the lamp totter and the books skip.

'That always was your trial, Dan, and I can sympathize with you;
for I've been trying to govern my own temper all my life, and
haven't learnt yet,' said Mrs Jo, with a sigh. 'For heaven's sake,
guard your demon well, and don't let a moment's fury ruin all your
life. As I said to Nat, watch and pray, my dear boy. There is no
other help or hope for human weakness but God's love and
patience.'

Tears were in Mrs Jo's eyes as she spoke; for she felt this deeply,
and knew how hard a task it is to rule these bosom sins of ours.
Dan looked touched, also uncomfortable, as he always did when
religion of any sort was mentioned, though he had a simple creed
of his own, and tried to live up to it in his blind way.

'I don't do much praying; don't seem to come handy to me; but I
can watch like a redskin, only it's easier to mount guard over a
lurking grizzly than my own cursed temper. It's that I'm afraid of, if
I settle down. I can get on with wild beasts first-rate; but men rile
me awfully, and I can't take it out in a free fight, as I can with a
bear or a wolf. Guess I'd better head for the Rockies, and stay there
a spell longer till I'm tame enough for decent folks, if I ever am.'
And Dan leaned his rough head on his hands in a despondent
attitude.

'Try my sort of help, and don't give up. Read more, study a little,
and try to meet a better class of people, who won't "rile", but
soothe and strengthen you. We don't make you savage, I'm sure;
for you have been as meek as a lamb, and made us very happy.'

'Glad of it; but I've felt like a hawk in a hen-house all the same,
and wanted to pounce and tear more than once. Not so much as I
used, though,' added Dan, after a short laugh at Mrs Jo's surprised
face. 'I'll try your plan, and keep good company this bout if I can;
but a man can't pick and choose, knocking about as I do.'

'Yes, you can this time; for you are going on a peaceful errand and
can keep clear of temptation if you try. Take some books and read;
that's an immense help; and books are always good company if you
have the right sort. Let me pick out some for you.' And Mrs Jo
made a bee-line to the well-laden shelves, which were the joy of
her heart and the comfort of her life.

'Give me travels and stories, please; don't want any pious works,
can't seem to relish 'em, and won't pretend I do,' said Dan,
following to look over her head with small favour at the long lines
of well-worn volumes.

Mrs Jo turned short round, and putting a hand on either broad
shoulder, looked him in the eye, saying soberly: -

'Now, Dan, see here; never sneer at good things or pretend to be
worse than you are. Don't let false shame make you neglect the
religion without which no man can live. You needn't talk about it
if you don't like, but don't shut your heart to it in whatever shape it
comes. Nature is your God now; she has done much for you; let
her do more, and lead you to know and love a wiser and more
tender teacher, friend, and comforter than she can ever be. That is
your only hope; don't throw it away, and waste time; for sooner or
later you will feel the need of Him, and He will come to you and
hold you up when all other help fails.'

Dan stood motionless, and let her read in his softened eyes the
dumb desire that lived in his heart, though he had no words to tell
it, and only permitted her to itch a glimpse of the divine spark
which smoulders or burns clearly in every human soul. He did not
speak; and glad to be spared some answer which should belie his
real feelings, Mrs Jo hastened to say, with her most motherly
smile:

'I saw in your room the little Bible I gave you long ago; it was well
worn outside, but fresh within, as if not much read. Will you
promise me to read a little once a week, dear, for my sake? Sunday
is a quiet day everywhere, and this book is never old nor out of
place. Begin with the stories you used to love when I told them to
you boys. David was your favourite, you remember? Read him
again; he'll suit you even better now, and you'll find his sins and
repentance useful reading till you come to the life and work of a
diviner example than he. You will do it, for love of mother Bhaer,
who always loved her "firebrand" and hoped to save him?'

'I will,' answered Dan, with a sudden brightening of face that was
like a sunburst through a cloud, full of promise though so
short-lived and rare.

Mrs Jo turned at once to the books and began to talk of them,
knowing well that Dan would not hear any more just then. He
seemed relieved; for it was always hard for him to show his inner
self, and he took pride in hiding it as an Indian does in concealing
pain or fear.

'Hallo, here's old Sintram! I remember him; used to like him and
his tantrums, and read about 'em to Ted. There he is riding ahead
with Death and the Devil

alongside.'

As Dan looked at the little picture of the young man with horse
and hound going bravely up the rocky defile, accompanied by the
companions who ride beside most men through this world, a
curious impulse made Mrs Jo say quickly:

'That's you, Dan, just you at this time! Danger and sin are near you
in the life you lead; moods and passions torment you; the bad
father left you to fight alone, and the wild spirit drives you to
wander up and down the world looking for peace and self-control.
Even the horse and hound are there, your Octoo and Don, faithful
friends, unscared by the strange mates that go with you. You have
not got the armour yet, but I'm trying to show you where to find it.
Remember the mother Sintram loved and longed to find, and did
find when his battle was bravely fought, his reward well earned?
You can recollect your mother; and I have always felt that all the
good qualities you possess come from her. Act out the beautiful
old story in this as in the other parts, and try to give her back a son
to be proud of.'

Quite carried away by the likeness of the quaint tale to Dan's life
and needs, Mrs Jo went on pointing to the various pictures which
illustrated it, and when she looked up was surprised to see how
struck and interested he seemed to be. Like all people of his
temperament he was very impressionable, and his life among
hunters and Indians had made him superstitious; he believed in
dreams, liked weird tales, and whatever appealed to the eye or
mind, vividly impressed him more than the wisest words. The
story of poor, tormented Sintram came back clearly as he looked
and listened, symbolizing his secret trials even more truly than Mrs
Jo knew; and just at that moment this had an effect upon him that
never was forgotten. But all he said was:

'Small chance of that. I don't take much stock in the idea of
meeting folks in heaven. Guess mother won't remember the poor
little brat she left so long ago; why should she?'

'Because true mothers never forget their children; and I know she
was one, from the fact that she ran away from the cruel husband,
to save her little son from bad influences. Had she lived, life would
have been happier for you, with this tender friend to help and
comfort you. Never forget that she risked everything for your sake,
and don't let it be in vain.'

Mrs Jo spoke very earnestly, knowing that this was the one sweet
memory of Dan's early life, and glad to have recalled it at this
moment; for suddenly a great tear splashed down on the page
where Sintram kneels at his mother's feet, wounded, but victorious
over sin and death. She looked up, well pleased to have touched
Dan to the heart's core, as that drop proved; but a sweep of the arm
brushed away the tell-tale, and his beard hid the mate to it, as he
shut the book, saying with a suppressed quiver in his strong voice:

'I'll keep this, if nobody wants it. I'll read it over, and maybe it will
do me good. I'd like to meet her anywhere, but don't believe I ever
shall.'

'Keep it and welcome. My mother gave it to me; and when you
read it try to believe that neither of your mothers will ever forget
you.'

Mrs Jo gave the book with a caress; and simply saying: 'Thanks;
good night,' Dan thrust it into his pocket, and walked straight away
to the river to recover

124 JO'S BOYS

from this unwonted mood of tenderness and confidence.

Next day the travellers were off. All were in good spirits, and a
cloud of handkerchiefs whitened the air as they drove away in the
old bus, waving their hats to everyone and kissing their hands,
especially to mother Bhaer, who said in her prophetic tone as she
wiped her eyes, when the familiar rumble died away:

'I have a feeling that something is going to happen to some of
them, and they will never come back to me, or come back
changed. Well, I can only say, God be with my boys!'

And He was.

Chapter 7 THE LION AND THE LAMB

When the boys were gone a lull fell upon Plumfield, and the
family scattered to various places for brief outings, as August had
come and all felt the need of change. The Professor took Mrs Jo to
the mountains. The Laurences were at the seashore, and there
Meg's family and the Bhaer boys took turns to visit, as someone
must always be at home to keep things in order.

Mrs Meg, with Daisy, was in office when the events occurred
which we are about to relate. Rob and Ted were just up from
Rocky Nook, and Nan was passing a week with her friend as the
only relaxation she allowed herself. Demi was off on a run with
Tom, so Rob was man of the house, with old Silas as general
overseer. The sea air seemed to have gone to Ted's head, for he
was unusually freakish, and led his gentle aunt and poor Rob a life
of it with his pranks. Octoo was worn out with the wild rides he
took, and Don openly rebelled when ordered to leap and show off
his accomplishments; while the girls at college were both amused
and worried by the ghosts who haunted the grounds at night, the
unearthly melodies that disturbed their studious hours, and the
hairbreadth escapes of this restless boy by flood and field and fire.
Something happened at length which effectually sobered Ted and
made a lasting impression on both the boys; for sudden danger and
a haunting fear turned the Lion into a lamb and the Lamb into a
lion, as far as courage went.

On the first of September the boys never forgot the date after a
pleasant tramp and good luck with their fishing, the brothers were
lounging in the barn; for Daisy had company, and the lads kept out
of the

way.

'I tell you what it is, Bobby, that dog is sick. He won't play, nor eat,
nor drink, and acts queerly. Dan will kill us if anything happens to
him,' said Ted, looking at Don, who lay near his kennel resting a
moment after one of the restless wanderings which kept him
vibrating between the door of Dan's room and the shady corner of
the yard, where his master had settled him with an old cap tO
guard till he came back.

'It's the hot weather, perhaps. But I sometimes think he's pining for
Dan. Dogs do, you know, and the poor fellow has been low in his
mind ever since the boys went. Maybe something has happened to
Dan. Don howled last night and can't rest. I've heard of such
things,' answered Rob thoughtfully.

'Pooh! he can't know. He's cross. I'll stir him up and take him for a
run. Always makes me feel better. Hi, boy! wake up and be jolly';
and Ted snapped his fingers at the dog, who only looked at him
with grim

indifference.

'Better let him alone. If he isn't right tomorrow, we'll take him to
Dr Watkins and see what he says.' And Rob went on watching the
swallows as he lay in the hay polishing up some Latin verses he
had made.

The spirit of perversity entered into Ted, and merely because he
was told not to tease Don he went on doing it, pretending that it
was for the dog's good. Don took no heed of his pats, commands,
reproaches, or insults, till Ted's patience gave out; and seeing a
convenient switch near by he could not resist the temptation to
conquer the great hound by force, since gentleness failed to win
obedience. He had the wisdom to chain Don up first; for a blow
from any hand but his master's mide him ~av~gi', iI?ILI T~4 had
more than once tr~ed

the experiment, as the dog remembered. This indignity roused Don
and he sat up with a growl. Rob heard it, and seeing Ted raise the
switch, ran to interfere, exclaiming:

'Don't touch him! Dan forbade it! Leave the poor thing in peace; I
won't allow it.'

Rob seldom commanded, but when he did Master Ted had to give
in. His temper was up, and Rob's masterful tone made it
impossible to resist one cut at the rebellious dog before he
submitted. Only a single blow, but it was a costly one; for as it fell,
the dog sprang at Ted with a snarl, and Rob, rushing between the
two, felt the sharp teeth pierce his leg. A word made Don let go
and drop remorsefully at Rob's feet, for he loved him and was
evidently sorry to have hurt his friend by mistake. With a forgiving
pat Rob left him, to limp to the barn followed by Ted, whose wrath
was changed to shame and sorrow when he saw the red drops on
Rob's sock and the little wounds in his leg.

'I'm awfully sorry. Why did you get in the way? Here, wash it up,
and I'll get a rag to tie on it,' he said quickly filling a sponge with
water and pulling out a very demoralized handkerchief. Rob
usually made light of his own mishaps and was over ready to
forgive if others were to blame; but now he sat quite still, looking
at the purple marks with such a strange expression on his white
face that Ted was troubled, though he added with a laugh: 'Why,
you're not afraid of a little dig like that, are you, Bobby?'

'I am afraid of hydrophobia. But if Don is mad I'd rather be the one
to have it,' answered Rob, with a smile and a shiver.

At that dreadful word Ted turned whiter than his brother, and,
dropping sponge and handkerchief, stared at him with a frightened
face, whispering in a tone of despair:

'Oh, Rob, don't say it! What shall we do, what shall we do?'

'Call Nan; she will know. Don't scare Aunty, or tell a soul but Nan;
she's on the back piazza; get her out here as quick as you can. I'll
wash it till she comes.

Maybe it's nothing; don't look so staggered, Ted. I only thought it
might be, as Don is queer.'

Rob tried to speak bravely; but Ted's long legs felt strangely weak
as he hurried away, and it was lucky he met no one, for his face
would have betrayed him. Nan was swinging luxuriously in a
hammock, amusing herself with a lively treatise on croup, when an
agitated boy suddenly clutched her, whispering, as he nearly pulled
her overboard:

'Come to Rob in the barn! Don's mad and he's bitten him, and we
don't know what to do; it's all my fault; no one must know. Oh, do
be quick!'

Nan was on her feet at once, startled, but with her wits about her,
and both were off without more words as they dodged round the
house where unconscious Daisy chatted with her friends in the
parlour and Aunt Meg peacefully took her afternoon nap upstairs.

Rob was braced up, and was as calm and steady as ever when they
found him in the harness-room, whither he had wisely retired, to
escape observation. The story was soon told, and after a look at
Don, now in his kennel, sad and surly, Nan said slowly, with her
eye on the full water-pan:

'Rob, there is one thing to do for the sake of safety, and it must be
done at once. We can't wait to see if Don is sick or to go for a
doctor. I can do it, and I will; but it is very painful, and I hate to
hurt you, dear.'

A most unprofessional quiver got into Nan's voice as she spoke,
and her keen eyes dimmed as she looked at the two anxious young
faces turned so confidingly to her for help.

'I know, burn it; well, do it, please; I can bear it. But Ted better go
away,' said Rob, with a firm setting of his lips, and a nod at his
afflicted brother.

'I won't stir; I can stand it if he can, only it ought to be me!' cried
Ted, with a desperate effort not to cry, so full of grief and fear and
shame was he that it seemed as if he couldn't bear it like a man.

'He'd better stay and help; do him good,' answered

Nun ~tcrn1~, bccaui,~ h~r 1i~oir w~ P~ti~ Wthin her, knowing as
she did all that might be in store for both poor boys. 'Keep quiet;
I'll be back in a minute,' she added, going towards the house, while
her quick mind hastily planned what was best to be done.

It was ironing day, and a hot fire still burned in the empty kitchen,
for the maids were upstairs resting. Nan put a slender poker to
heat, and as she sat waiting for it, covered her face with her hands,
asking help in this sudden need strength, courage, and wisdom;
for there was no one else to call upon, and young as she was, she
knew what was to be done if she only had the nerve to do it. Any
other patient would have been calmly interesting, but dear, good
Robin, his father's pride, his mother's comfort, everyone's favourite
and friend, that he should be in danger was very terrible; and a few
hot tears dropped on the well-scoured table as Nan tried to calm
her trouble by remembering how very likely it was to be all a
mistake, a natural but vain

alarm.

'I must make light of it, or the boys will break down, and then there
will be a panic. Why afflict and frighten everyone when all is in
doubt? I won't. I'll take Rob to Dr Morrison at once, and have the
dog man see Don. Then, having done all we can, we will either
laugh at our scare if it is one or be ready for whatever comes.
Now for my poor boy.'

Armed with the red-hot poker, a pitcher of ice-water, and several
handkerchiefs from the clotheshorse, Nan went back to the barn
ready to do her best in this her most serious 'emergency case'. The
boys sat like statues, one of despair, the other of resignation; and it
took all Nan's boasted nerve to do her work quickly and well.

'Now, Rob, only a minute, then we are safe. Stand by, Ted; he may
be a bit faintish.'

Rob shut his eyes, clinched his hands, and sat like a hero. Ted
knelt beside him, white as a sheet, and as weak as a girl; for the
pangs of remorse were rending him, and his heart failed at the
thought of all this pain because of his wilfulness. It was all over in
a moment, with only one little groan; but when Nan looked to her
assistant to hand the water, poor Ted needed it the most, for he had
fainted away, and lay on the floor in a pathetic heap of arms and
legs.

Rob laughed, and, cheered by that unexpected sound, Nan bound
up the wound with hands that never trembled, though great drops
stood on her forehead; and she shared the water with patient
number one before she turned to patient number two. Ted was
much ashamed, and quite broken in spirit, when he found how he
had failed at the critical moment, and begged them not to tell, as
he really could not help it; then by way of finishing his utter
humiliation, a burst of hysterical tears disgraced his manly soul,
and did him a world of good.

'Never mind, never mind, we are all right now, and no one need be
the wiser,' said Nan briskly, as poor Ted hiccoughed on Rob's
shoulder, laughing and crying in the most tempestuous manner,
while his brother soothed him, and the young doctor fanned both
with Silas's old straw hat.

'Now, boys, listen to me and remember what I say. We won't alarm
anyone yet, for I've made up my mind our scare is all nonsense.
Don was out lapping the water as I came by, and I don't believe
he's mad any more than I am. Still, to ease our minds and compose
our spirits, and get our guilty faces out of sight for a while, I think
we had better drive into town to my old friend Dr Morrison, and
let him just take a look at my work, and give us some quieting
little dose; for we are all rather shaken by this flurry. Sit still, Rob;
and Ted, you harness up while I run and get my hat and tell Aunty
to excuse me to Daisy. I don't know those Penniman girls, and she
will be glad of our room at tea, and we'll have a cosy bite at my
house, and come home as gay as larks.'

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