“I have been waiting and watching quietly, for I thought I’d give you a good trial first; and if you stood it, I would give you the best reward I had. You have stood it well; and now I’m going to trust not only Demi, but my own boy, to you, because you can teach them some things better than any of us.”

“Can I?” and Dan looked amazed at the idea.

“Demi has lived among older people so much that he needs just what you have – knowledge of common things, strength, and courage. He thinks you are the bravest boy he ever saw, and admires your strong way of doing things. Then you know a great deal about natural objects, and can tell him more wonderful tales of birds, and bees, and leaves, and animals, than his story-books give him; and, being true, these stories will teach and do him good. Don’t you see now how much you can help him, and why I like to have him with you?”

“But I swear sometimes, and might tell him something wrong. I wouldn’t mean to, but it might slip out, just as ‘devil’ did a few minutes ago,” said Dan, anxious to do his duty, and let her know his short-comings.

“I know you try not to say or do any thing to harm the little fellow, and here is where I think Demi will help you, because he is so innocent and wise in his small way, and has what I am trying to give you, dear, – good principles. It is never too early to try and plant them in a child, and never too late to cultivate them in the most neglected person. You are only boys yet; you can teach one another. Demi will unconsciously strengthen your moral sense, you will strengthen his common sense, and I shall feel as if I had helped you both.”

Words could not express how pleased and touched Dan was by this confidence and praise. No one had ever trusted him before, no one had cared to find out and foster the good in him, and no one had suspected how much there was hidden away in the breast of the neglected boy, going fast to ruin, yet quick to feel and value sympathy and help. No honor that he might earn hereafter would ever be half so precious as the right to teach his few virtues and his small store of learning to the child whom he most respected; and no more powerful restraint could have been imposed upon him than the innocent companion confided to his care. He found courage now to tell Mrs. Jo of the plan already made with Demi, and she was glad that the first step had been so naturally taken. Every thing seemed working well for Dan, and she rejoiced over him, because it had seemed a hard task, yet, working on with a firm belief in the possibility of reformation in far older and worse subjects than he, there had come this quick and hopeful change to encourage her. He felt that he had friends now and a place in the world, something to live and work for, and, though he said little, all that was best and bravest in a character made old by a hard experience responded to the love and faith bestowed on him, and Dan’s salvation was assured.

Their quiet talk was interrupted by a shout of delight from Teddy, who, to the surprise of every one, did actually catch a trout where no trout had been seen for years. He was so enchanted with his splendid success that he insisted on showing his prize to the family before Asia cooked it for supper; so the three descended and went happily away together, all satisfied with the work of that half hour.

Ned was the next visitor to the tree, but he only made a short stay, sitting there at his ease while Dick and Dolly caught a pailful of grasshoppers and crickets for him. He wanted to play a joke on Tommy, and intended to tuck up a few dozen of the lively creatures in his bed, so that when Bangs got in he would speedily tumble out again, and pass a portion of the night in chasing “hopper-grasses” round the room. The hunt was soon over, and having paid the hunters with a few peppermints apiece Ned retired to make Tommy’s bed.

For an hour the old willow sighed and sung to itself, talked with the brook, and watched the lengthening shadows as the sun went down. The first rosy color was touching its graceful branches when a boy came stealing up the avenue, across the lawn, and, spying Billy by the brook-side, went to him, saying, in a mysterious tone, —

“Go and tell Mr. Bhaer I want to see him down here, please. Don’t let any one hear.”

Billy nodded and ran off, while the boy swung himself up into the tree, and sat there looking anxious, yet evidently feeling the charm of the place and hour. In five minutes Mr. Bhaer appeared, and, stepping up on the fence, leaned into the nest, saying, kindly, —

“I am glad to see you, Jack; but why not come in and meet us all at once?”

“I wanted to see you first, please, sir. Uncle made me come back. I know I don’t deserve any thing, but I hope the fellows won’t be hard upon me.”

Poor Jack did not get on very well, but it was evident that he was sorry and ashamed, and wanted to be received as easily as possible; for his Uncle had thrashed him well and scolded him soundly for following the example he himself set. Jack had begged not to be sent back, but the school was cheap, and Mr. Ford insisted, so the boy returned as quietly as possible, and took refuge behind Mr. Bhaer.

“I hope not, but I can’t answer for them, though I will see that they are not unjust. I think, as Dan and Nat have suffered so much, being innocent, you should suffer something, being guilty. Don’t you?” asked Mr. Bhaer, pitying Jack, yet feeling that he deserved punishment for a fault which had so little excuse.

“I suppose so, but I sent Tommy’s money back, and I said I was sorry, isn’t that enough?” said Jack, rather sullenly; for the boy who could do so mean a thing was not brave enough to bear the consequences well.

“No; I think you should ask pardon of all three boys, openly and honestly. You cannot expect them to respect and trust you for a time, but you can live down this disgrace if you try, and I will help you. Stealing and lying are detestable sins, and I hope this will be a lesson to you. I am glad you are ashamed, it is a good sign; bear it patiently, and do your best to earn a better reputation.”

“I’ll have an auction, and sell off all my goods dirt cheap,” said Jack, showing his repentance in the most characteristic way.

“I think it would be better to give them away, and begin on a new foundation. Take ‘Honesty is the best policy’ for your motto, and live up to it in act, and word, and thought, and though you don’t make a cent of money this summer, you will be a rich boy in the autumn,” said Mr. Bhaer, earnestly.

It was hard, but Jack consented, for he really felt that cheating didn’t pay, and wanted to win back the friendship of the boys. His heart clung to his possessions, and he groaned inwardly at the thought of actually giving away certain precious things. Asking pardon publicly was easy compared to this; but then he began to discover that certain other things, invisible, but most valuable, were better property than knives, fish-hooks, or even money itself. So he decided to buy up a little integrity, even at a high price, and secure the respect of his playmates, though it was not a salable article.

“Well, I’ll do it,” he said, with a sudden air of resolution, which pleased Mr. Bhaer.

“Good! and I’ll stand by you. Now come and begin at once.”

And Father Bhaer led the bankrupt boy back into the little world, which received him coldly at first, but slowly warmed to him, when he showed that he had profited by the lesson, and was sincerely anxious to go into a better business with a new stock-in-trade.

CHAPTER XVI
TAMING THE COLT

“What in the world is that boy doing?” said Mrs. Jo to herself, as she watched Dan running round the half-mile triangle as if for a wager. He was all alone, and seemed possessed by some strange desire to run himself into a fever, or break his neck; for, after several rounds, he tried leaping walls, and turning somersaults up the avenue, and finally dropped down on the grass before the door as if exhausted.

“Are you training for a race, Dan?” asked Mrs. Jo, from the window where she sat.

He looked up quickly, and stopped panting to answer, with a laugh, —

“No; I’m only working off my steam.”

“Can’t you find a cooler way of doing it? You will be ill if you tear about so in such warm weather,” said Mrs. Jo, laughing also, as she threw him out a great palm-leaf fan.

“Can’t help it. I must run somewhere,” answered Dan, with such an odd expression in his restless eyes, that Mrs. Jo was troubled, and asked, quickly, —

“Is Plumfield getting too narrow for you?”

“I wouldn’t mind if it was a little bigger. I like it though; only the fact is the devil gets into me sometimes, and then I do want to bolt.”

The words seemed to come against his will, for he looked sorry the minute they were spoken, and seemed to think he deserved a reproof for his ingratitude. But Mrs. Jo understood the feeling, and though sorry to see it, she could not blame the boy for confessing it. She looked at him anxiously, seeing how tall and strong he had grown, how full of energy his face was, with its eager eyes and resolute mouth; and remembering the utter freedom he had known for years before, she felt how even the gentle restraint of this home would weigh upon him at times when the old lawless spirit stirred in him. “Yes,” she said to herself, “my wild hawk needs a larger cage; and yet, if I let him go, I am afraid he will be lost. I must try and find some lure strong enough to keep him safe.”

“I know all about it,” she added, aloud. “It is not ‘the devil,’ as you call it, but the very natural desire of all young people for liberty. I used to feel just so, and once, I really did think for a minute that I would bolt.”

“Why didn’t you?” said Dan, coming to lean on the low window-ledge, with an evident desire to continue the subject.

“I knew it was foolish, and love for my mother kept me at home.”

“I haven’t got any mother,” began Dan.

“I thought you had now,” said Mrs. Jo, gently stroking the rough hair off his hot forehead.

“You are no end good to me, and I can’t ever thank you enough, but it isn’t just the same, is it?” and Dan looked up at her with a wistful, hungry look that went to her heart.

“No, dear, it is not the same, and never can be. I think an own mother would have been a great deal to you. But as that cannot be, you must try to let me fill her place. I fear I have not done all I ought, or you would not want to leave me,” she added, sorrowfully.

“Yes, you have!” cried Dan, eagerly. “I don’t want to go, and I won’t go, if I can help it; but every now and then I feel as if I must burst out somehow. I want to run straight ahead somewhere, to smash something, or pitch into somebody. Don’t know why, but I do, and that’s all about it.”

Dan laughed as he spoke, but he meant what he said, for he knit his black brows, and brought down his fist on the ledge with such force, that Mrs. Jo’s thimble flew off into the grass. He brought it back, and as she took it she held the big, brown hand a minute, saying, with a look that showed the words cost her something —

“Well, Dan, run if you must, but don’t run far; and come back to me soon, for I want you very much.”

He was rather taken aback by this unexpected permission to play truant, and somehow it seemed to lessen his desire to go. He did not understand why, but Mrs. Jo did, and, knowing the natural perversity of the human mind, counted on it to help her now. She felt instinctively that the more the boy was restrained the more he would fret against it; but leave him free, and the mere sense of liberty would content him, joined to the knowledge that his presence was dear to those whom he loved best. It was a little experiment, but it succeeded, for Dan stood silent a moment, unconsciously picking the fan to pieces and turning the matter over in his mind. He felt that she appealed to his heart and his honor, and owned that he understood it by saying presently, with a mixture of regret and resolution in his face, —

“I won’t go yet awhile, and I’ll give you warning before I bolt. That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“Yes, we will let it stand so. Now, I want to see if I can’t find some way for you to work off your steam better than running about the place like a mad dog, spoiling my fans, or fighting with the boys. What can we invent?” and while Dan tried to repair the mischief he had done, Mrs. Jo racked her brain for some new device to keep her truant safe until he had learned to love his lessons better.

“How would you like to be my express-man?” she said, as a sudden thought popped into her head.

“Go into town, and do the errands?” asked Dan, looking interested at once.

“Yes; Franz is tired of it, Silas cannot be spared just now, and Mr. Bhaer has no time. Old Andy is a safe horse, you are a good driver, and know your way about the city as well as a postman. Suppose you try it, and see if it won’t do ’most as well to drive away two or three times a week as to run away once a month.”

“I’d like it ever so much, only I must go alone and do it all myself. I don’t want any of the other fellows bothering round,” said Dan, taking to the new idea so kindly that he began to put on business airs already.

“If Mr. Bhaer does not object you shall have it all your own way. I suppose Emil will growl, but he cannot be trusted with horses, and you can. By the way, to-morrow is market-day, and I must make out my list. You had better see that the wagon is in order, and tell Silas to have the fruit and vegetables ready for mother. You will have to be up early and get back in time for school, can you do that?”

“I’m always an early bird, so I don’t mind,” and Dan slung on his jacket with despatch.

“The early bird got the worm this time, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Jo, merrily.

“And a jolly good worm it is,” answered Dan, as he went laughing away to put a new lash to the whip, wash the wagon, and order Silas about with all the importance of a young express-man.

“Before he is tired of this I will find something else and have it ready when the next restless fit comes on,” said Mrs. Jo to herself, as she wrote her list with a deep sense of gratitude that all her boys were not Dans.

Mr. Bhaer did not entirely approve of the new plan, but agreed to give it a trial, which put Dan on his mettle, and caused him to give up certain wild plans of his own, in which the new lash and the long hill were to have borne a part. He was up and away very early the next morning, heroically resisting the temptation to race with the milkmen going into town. Once there, he did his errands carefully, and came jogging home again in time for school, to Mr. Bhaer’s surprise and Mrs. Jo’s great satisfaction. The Commodore did growl at Dan’s promotion, but was pacified by a superior padlock to his new boat-house, and the thought that seamen were meant for higher honors than driving market-wagons and doing family errands. So Dan filled his new office well and contentedly for weeks, and said no more about bolting. But one day Mr. Bhaer found him pummelling Jack, who was roaring for mercy under his knee.

“Why, Dan, I thought you had given up fighting,” he said, as he went to the rescue.

“We ain’t fighting, we are only wrestling,” answered Dan, leaving off reluctantly.

“It looks very much like it, and feels like it, hey, Jack?” said Mr. Bhaer, as the defeated gentleman got upon his legs with difficulty.

“Catch me wrestling with him again. He’s ’most knocked my head off,” snarled Jack, holding on to that portion of his frame as if it really was loose upon his shoulders.

“The fact is, we began in fun, but when I got him down I couldn’t help pounding him. Sorry I hurt you, old fellow,” explained Dan, looking rather ashamed of himself.

“I understand. The longing to pitch into somebody was so strong you couldn’t resist. You are a sort of Berserker, Dan, and something to tussle with is as necessary to you as music is to Nat,” said Mr. Bhaer, who knew all about the conversation between the boy and Mrs. Jo.

“Can’t help it. So if you don’t want to be pounded you’d better keep out of the way,” answered Dan, with a warning look in his black eyes that made Jack sheer off in haste.

“If you want something to wrestle with, I will give you a tougher specimen than Jack,” said Mr. Bhaer; and, leading the way to the wood-yard, he pointed out certain roots of trees that had been grubbed up in the spring, and had been lying there waiting to be split.

“There, when you feel inclined to maltreat the boys, just come and work off your energies here, and I’ll thank you for it.”

“So I will;” and, seizing the axe that lay near, Dan hauled out a tough root, and went at it so vigorously, that the chips flew far and wide, and Mr. Bhaer fled for his life.

To his great amusement, Dan took him at his word, and was often seen wrestling with the ungainly knots, hat and jacket off, red face, and wrathful eyes; for he got into royal rages over some of his adversaries, and swore at them under his breath till he had conquered them, when he exulted, and marched off to the shed with an armful of gnarled oak-wood in triumph. He blistered his hands, tired his back, and dulled the axe, but it did him good, and he got more comfort out of the ugly roots than any one dreamed, for with each blow he worked off some of the pent-up power that would otherwise have been expended in some less harmless way.

“When this is gone I really don’t know what I shall do,” said Mrs. Jo to herself, for no inspiration came, and she was at the end of her resources.

But Dan found a new occupation for himself, and enjoyed it some time before any one discovered the cause of his contentment. A fine young horse of Mr. Laurie’s was kept at Plumfield that summer, running loose in a large pasture across the brook. The boys were all interested in the handsome, spirited creature, and for a time were fond of watching him gallop and frisk with his plumey tail flying, and his handsome head in the air. But they soon got tired of it, and left Prince Charlie to himself. All but Dan, he never tired of looking at the horse, and seldom failed to visit him each day with a lump of sugar, a bit of bread, or an apple to make him welcome. Charlie was grateful, accepted his friendship, and the two loved one another as if they felt some tie between them, inexplicable but strong. In whatever part of the wide field he might be, Charlie always came at full speed when Dan whistled at the bars, and the boy was never happier than when the beautiful, fleet creature put its head on his shoulder, looking up at him with fine eyes full of intelligent affection.

“We understand one another without any palaver, don’t we, old fellow?” Dan would say, proud of the horse’s confidence, and so jealous of his regard, that he told no one how well the friendship prospered, and never asked anybody but Teddy to accompany him on these daily visits.

Mr. Laurie came now and then to see how Charlie got on, and spoke of having him broken to harness in the autumn.

“He won’t need much taming, he is such a gentle, fine-tempered brute. I shall come out and try him with a saddle myself some day,” he said, on one of these visits.

“He lets me put a halter on him, but I don’t believe he will bear a saddle even if you put it on,” answered Dan, who never failed to be present when Charlie and his master met.

“I shall coax him to bear it, and not mind a few tumbles at first. He has never been harshly treated, so, though he will be surprised at the new performances, I think he won’t be frightened, and his antics will do no harm.”

“I wonder what he would do,” said Dan to himself, as Mr. Laurie went away with the Professor, and Charlie returned to the bars, from which he had retired when the gentlemen came up.

A daring fancy to try the experiment took possession of the boy as he sat on the topmost rail with the glossy back temptingly near him. Never thinking of danger, he obeyed the impulse, and while Charlie unsuspectingly nibbled at the apple he held, Dan quickly and quietly took his seat. He did not keep it long, however, for with an astonished snort, Charlie reared straight up, and deposited Dan on the ground. The fall did not hurt him, for the turf was soft, and he jumped up, saying, with a laugh, —

“I did it any way! Come here, you rascal, and I’ll try it again.”

But Charlie declined to approach, and Dan left him resolving to succeed in the end; for a struggle like this suited him exactly. Next time he took a halter, and having got it on, he played with the horse for a while, leading him to and fro, and putting him through various antics till he was a little tired; then Dan sat on the wall and gave him bread, but watched his chance, and getting a good grip of the halter, slipped on to his back. Charlie tried the old trick, but Dan held on, having had practice with Toby, who occasionally had an obstinate fit, and tried to shake off his rider. Charlie was both amazed and indignant; and after prancing for a minute, set off at a gallop, and away went Dan heels over head. If he had not belonged to the class of boys who go through all sorts of dangers unscathed, he would have broken his neck; as it was, he got a heavy fall, and lay still collecting his wits, while Charlie tore round the field tossing his head with every sign of satisfaction at the discomfiture of his rider. Presently it seemed to occur to him that something was wrong with Dan, and, being of a magnanimous nature, he went to see what the matter was. Dan let him sniff about and perplex himself for a few minutes; then he looked up at him, saying, as decidedly as if the horse could understand, —

“You think you have beaten, but you are mistaken, old boy; and I’ll ride you yet – see if I don’t.”

He tried no more that day, but soon after attempted a new method of introducing Charlie to a burden. He strapped a folded blanket on his back, and then let him race, and rear, and roll, and fume as much as he liked. After a few fits of rebellion Charlie submitted, and in a few days permitted Dan to mount him, often stopping short to look round, as if he said, half patiently, half reproachfully, “I don’t understand it, but I suppose you mean no harm, so I permit the liberty.”

Dan patted and praised him, and took a short turn every day, getting frequent falls, but persisting in spite of them, and longing to try a saddle and a bridle, but not daring to confess what he had done. He had his wish, however, for there had been a witness of his pranks who said a good word for him.

“Do you know what that chap has ben doin’ lately?” asked Silas of his master, one evening, as he received his orders for the next day.

“Which boy?” said Mr. Bhaer, with an air of resignation, expecting some sad revelation.

“Dan, he’s ben a breaking the colt, sir, and I wish I may die if he ain’t done it,” answered Silas, chuckling.

“How do you know?”

“Wal, I kinder keep an eye on the little fellers, and ’most gen’lly know what they’re up to; so when Dan kep going off to the paster, and coming home black and blue, I mistrusted that suthing was goin’ on. I didn’t say nothin’, but I crep up into the barn chamber, and from there I see him goin’ through all manner of games with Charlie. Blest if he warn’t throwed time and agin, and knocked round like a bag o’ meal. But the pluck of the boy did beat all, and he ’peared to like it, and kep on as ef bound to beat.”

“But, Silas, you should have stopped it – the boy might have been killed,” said Mr. Bhaer, wondering what freak his irrepressibles would take into their heads next.

“S’pose I oughter; but there warn’t no real danger, for Charlie ain’t no tricks, and is as pretty a tempered horse as ever I see. Fact was, I couldn’t bear to spile sport, for ef there’s any thing I do admire it’s grit, and Dan is chock full on ’t. But now I know he’s hankerin’ after a saddle, and yet won’t take even the old one on the sly; so I just thought I’d up and tell, and may be you’d let him try what he can do. Mr. Laurie won’t mind, and Charlie’s all the better for ’t.”

“We shall see;” and off went Mr. Bhaer to inquire into the matter.

Dan owned up at once, and proudly proved that Silas was right by showing off his power over Charlie; for by dint of much coaxing, many carrots, and infinite perseverance, he really had succeeded in riding the colt with a halter and blanket. Mr. Laurie was much amused, and well pleased with Dan’s courage and skill, and let him have a hand in all future performances; for he set about Charlie’s education at once, saying that he was not going to be outdone by a slip of a boy. Thanks to Dan, Charlie took kindly to the saddle and bridle when he had once reconciled himself to the indignity of the bit; and after Mr. Laurie had trained him a little, Dan was permitted to ride him, to the great envy and admiration of the other boys.

“Isn’t he handsome? and don’t he mind me like a lamb?” said Dan one day as he dismounted and stood with his arm round Charlie’s neck.

“Yes, and isn’t he a much more useful and agreeable animal than the wild colt who spent his days racing about the field, jumping fences, and running away now and then?” asked Mrs. Bhaer from the steps where she always appeared when Dan performed with Charlie.

“Of course he is. See he won’t run away now, even if I don’t hold him, and he comes to me the minute I whistle; I have tamed him well, haven’t I?” and Dan looked both proud and pleased, as well he might, for, in spite of their struggles together, Charlie loved him better than his master.

“I am taming a colt too, and I think I shall succeed as well as you if I am as patient and persevering,” said Mrs. Jo, smiling so significantly at him, that Dan understood and answered, laughing, yet in earnest, —

“We won’t jump over the fence and run away, but stay and let them make a handsome, useful span of us, hey, Charlie?”