Chance of a Lifetime (2 page)

He hung up the receiver sharply and shut his lips in a fine, firm line, his eyes taking on a look he wore when he had to break the enemy’s luck on the football field, or win in a race, or climb a ladder to rescue someone in a village fire.

Then with a defiant glance around at the inanimate objects that had accused him, he seized the telephone again and called for Western Union, firmly giving his message word for word in a clear, crisp voice, feeling in his heart that he had cut his own throat but was glad he had. Then he set to work in a mature, businesslike way to open the morning mail. This sickly feeling at his stomach was not to be noticed any more than if he had got knocked out playing baseball. He had this job to do and he was going to do it. And surely he was no worse off than before he got that letter from Professor Hodge. He ought to be glad the professor thought him worthy to go on such an expedition. It maybe wasn’t the only chance in the world, even if good old Hodge had called it “the chance of a lifetime.” Well, if it was, this store was the chance of a lifetime, too. He might never have another opportunity to help Dad, and begin to repay all he had done for him. Good old Dad!

Something misty got into Alan’s eyes as he opened the next envelope, and he cleared his throat and brushed his hand across his forehead. Then suddenly he forgot Egypt and Hodge, and the expedition and the honor, and his loss and everything. For here in this letter was a challenge greater than any buried cities could give. It was even worse than Dad had hinted. The man who held the mortgage had come out in the open with sneers and threats, couched in language that was so sure of winning that it added insult to injury. What! Let that man insult his father? Not if he knew himself! If he couldn’t do anything else, he would thrash him. But he knew, good and well, he was going to do something else. He’d get that money somewhere and put Dad on the top, if he had to sell his own skin to do it. Alan’s lips shut, thin and hard, and his eyes took on their steely look. The desert faded, and honors held less significance. Here was another matter that called for all his nerve and powers. Other fellows could go to Egypt and do whatever was necessary to be done to unearth the secrets of the ages. But he, Alan, was the only one who could put his dad right with the world again.

All day he worked frantically, not taking time to go home for lunch, holding long telephone conversations, and writing letters. Interviewing his father’s lawyer and getting in touch with the president of the bank, making an appointment with a real estate agent in the city for the next day, writing letters to two or three powerful friends of his father’s whom he could not reach over the wires, sending telegrams.

It was wonderful, the thrill that came to him as he realized his own responsibility and the necessity of good judgment. If he only had someone to consult. Someone closer than just bank presidents. Of course, there was Keith Washburn—and Sherrill. Sherrill had amazing good sense for a girl. But of course he could not tell either of them, good friends though they were, about his father’s business. He must weather it alone. If he only could ask Dad a question or two. But his mother’s various messages, reporting the state of the beloved invalid, made it very plain that Dad ought not to be bothered with a thing for many a day yet.

Alan went home late to dinner that night and tried to wear a cheerful face to cover his weariness. Now that his actual work was done, until morning he had time to think of his own disappointment, and it cut deep into his heart and brought out the tired lines on his face more than he dreamed. Maybe he might have gone after all if he only had not been so hasty. Perhaps his plans would have carried smoothly, and by tomorrow everything would have been straightened out and the business safe. Surely then there could have been found somebody who would have taken over the store for a while till Dad got well. But no! He must not even think of that! Mother must never suspect; Dad must never know what he had given up. Dad would have felt even worse than he did about it. Dad was ambitious for him. Dad would have wanted him to be connected with this great matter!

His father was under opiates and in the hands of a capable nurse from the city. Alan could only tiptoe silently up to the door of the sickroom and peer anxiously into the cool, dim shadows. That sleeping form with the closed eyes, the strange, unnatural breathing, how it stabbed his heart. Of course, he could not have gone off to a desert and left his father like that.

Perhaps it was his need of being reassured after he had visited his father that led his footsteps out across the lawn and down the next street to the Washburn house. His mother did not need him. He had tucked her into her bed for a nice nap, kissed her, patted her, and told her not to worry. He had a strange lost feeling, like the first time he went to kindergarten all alone. So he wandered to his friend’s house.

Sherrill was at the piano, playing, the lamplight falling from the tall shaded lamp on her head and shoulders, bringing out the glint of gold in her hair, the delicate curve of her cheek and chin, the exquisite molding of her slim shoulders. He stood a moment and watched her wistfully. How sweet she was, and wise. What would she have advised him to do? Would she have said he must stay? But of course she would. He could not think of himself even asking her. He would not want her to think there had been any other thought in his mind for an instant, than to stick by his father. And yet— She was young! She was sane! Perhaps he had been over sentimental! He longed to hear her say it. Yet he could never ask her. The only person he could feel like asking was God, and he felt that he already knew what God would have him do.

She had stopped playing now and was wheeling a big chair up to the light. He drifted up to the open window and called her.

“Sherry, come out in the hammock and talk to me.”

She came at once, in her pretty white dress, standing in the doorway, poised for a second, while she called to her mother:

“Only out in the hammock, dearest. I shan’t be long. Alan is here!”

They sat down in the big, capacious swinging seat under the sweet-smelling pines and talked.

Sherrill had had letters from two of the girls. Priscilla Maybrick was in the Catskills having a wonderful time, and Willa Barrington had gone with an aunt to Atlantic City. They talked for a while about the comparative merits of seashore and mountains, and then a silence fell between them, a pleasant silence such as brings no embarrassment between good friends.

“Had a letter from old Hodge today,” said Alan nonchalantly, as if it were a matter of small moment. Somehow he had to let it out to someone, and Sherrill Washburn was safe and sane.

“You did!” said Sherrill interestedly. “What did he have to say? Is he still in that suburb of New York? Keith heard he had resigned.”

“Why no, he isn’t there,” Alan said. “He did resign. Hadn’t you heard? He’s a high mucky-muck in an expedition to Egypt. Archaeological, you know. Digging up some of Tut’s relatives and things like that.”

“You don’t mean it! Really! Isn’t that just wonderful? Did he say when they start?”

“Friday,” said Alan grimly. And then in a tone as if he were reporting an invitation to a pink tea, he said, quite offhandedly, “He asked me to go along.”

“Oh, Alan!” said Sherrill, clapping her hands in ecstasy and looking at him with admiration.

“Yes,” said the boy, “gave me all the dope and everything to meet him in New York, day after tomorrow.”

“Day after tomorrow!” The girl gave him a quick look, and sympathy broke into her voice.

“Oh, Alan! Then you can’t go! Of course. But isn’t that hard! You wouldn’t want to leave your father just now. Does he know about it?”

“No, and I don’t intend he shall!” said Alan, and there was a ring of purpose in his voice. “Please don’t say anything to Mother either, Sherry. It would just worry her, and she’s got enough to be anxious over now.”

“But wouldn’t they both perhaps feel you ought to have told them? It’s such an important thing. Perhaps they could make other arrangements and let you go.”

“There isn’t a chance!” said Alan briskly, thinking of the hard work he had been doing all day. “Nobody else knows about Dad’s business the way I do, and I wouldn’t trust anybody to take things over. Besides, Dad may be worse hurt than we think. The doctor can’t tell everything just yet. Of course, I know it’s a chance of a lifetime, as old Hodge said, but it can’t be helped. The way just isn’t open, that’s all. I only mentioned it because I thought you’d like to know that Hodge had asked me. I guess it’s an honor. He must know a lot of other fellows better fitted than I am.”

“Of course it’s an honor,” said Sherrill eagerly, “a great honor! But I’m not a bit surprised. I don’t believe Professor Hodge knows another boy of your age that is as dependable as you. But as for being the chance of a lifetime, you can’t tell. Maybe staying at home is the chance of yours. Things we want are not always the ones that are best for us. This may not be the chance of your lifetime at all.”

“Evidently not!” said Alan with a little laugh that hid a twinge of bitterness. “Well it was mighty nice of him to ask me anyway, and I’ve that to remember, like saving up candy you can’t eat along with your diploma and other trifling honors!”

“Have you answered him yet?” asked Sherrill thoughtfully.

“Sure! Wired him within an hour after the letter came.”

They were silent a moment, swinging back and forth under the old pine trees, Sherrill’s white dress making a patch of white in the shadows.

Footsteps were coming down the sidewalk, ringing footsteps that walked with a purpose. They paused at the rose-vine arch over the gateway and hesitated then turned in and walked more slowly up the stone flagging toward the house. About halfway up they paused, and the two in the swinging seat under the trees could see whoever it was looking toward them. They could not make out his identity. It did not seem to be any of the boys who frequented their company.

“Oh, I say, Mac, is that you?” called the visitor.

Alan rose from his seat and answered, taking a step forward.

“Yes? Did you want to see me?”

T
he newcomer came swiftly forward then and held out his hand. Sherrill saw that it was Robert Lincoln, Alan’s former rival on the football field.

“Hope you’ll pardon me for intruding,” he said, and there was something surprisingly humble in the boy’s tone. “I won’t keep you long. I just got a wire from Professor Hodge and I had to come and thank you. I say, Mac, you’ve been mighty good to recommend me after all that’s passed, and I sure do appreciate it. I shan’t forget it.”

“Oh, Bob, is that you?” said Alan, much embarrassed. “You say he wired? Did you get the job? Congratulations.”

“Sit down, Bob,” said Sherrill, rising. “I’m just going in the house for a sweater. It’s a little chilly.”

“Don’t go,” said young Lincoln. “It’s nothing private. You don’t mind if I tell Sherrill, do you?”

“There’s nothing to tell,” said Alan diffidently.

“I think there is,” said Bob, turning to Sherrill. “Alan’s put me in for the chance of my life. I’m going with Professor Hodge to Egypt. Starting day after tomorrow. Can you beat it? And I owe it all to old Mac here. I never even heard of the job until I got the wire, and I needed something the worst way.

“Mac,” he said, turning back to Alan, “I owe you something more than just thanks. I owe you a lot of apologies. I guess there’s plenty of humble pie coming to me. I’ll own I’ve said mean things about you several times, and the time you thrashed me I guess I deserved it even more than you knew. But I never knew you were upright like this. I thought you were a hypocrite. Now I ask your pardon. This is the best thing I ever knew a man to do to his enemy.”

“Oh, Bob, cut that out,” growled Alan, “there was nothing great in what I did. Knew you were keen on such things. Happened to hear you wanting to go away. Since I couldn’t go myself I didn’t see any reason why you shouldn’t profit by it. I hope I’m not a dog in the manger.”

“I’ll say you’re not!” said Bob fervently. “And I’ll have to own that if the chances had been reversed, I’m afraid I would have been. I’d have said I couldn’t go myself but you shouldn’t anyway.”

“Aw, cut it!” said Alan. “You aren’t like that, Bob, and anyhow that doesn’t cut any ice. I’ll own I was upset that I couldn’t go myself, but I’m tickled to death you can, since I can’t.”

“But why can’t you go, Mac? Aren’t you keen about it?”

“Keen? Boy! It’s like the pot of gold and the rainbow all in one to me. I’d rather go than get rich if you know what I mean. But it can’t be done. My dad got run over this morning, and I’ve got to stay by the store and take his place. It’ll be weeks, maybe months, before he’s around again. Lucky if it isn’t years.”

“Say! That’s tough luck. I hadn’t heard. Been groveling in the factory all day. But Mac, why couldn’t I take your place? I’m a year older than you, and I could take orders. I’d have my heart in doing something like that. You go, Mac, and I’ll stay!”

Alan wheeled about and faced the other boy for the first time that evening.

“Would you do that for me, Bob?” he asked, his voice all husky with feeling.

“I sure would, Mac,” said Bob. “You’re the first person since my sister died that’s cared a straw what became of me. Look what you’ve done for me! Sure, I’ll do it gladly!”

Alan put his hand out and gripped the other’s hand in a warm grasp.

“Guess I’ve got an apology coming, too, old man,” he said, still huskily. “You’re great. I won’t forget this. I can’t accept of course, because Dad needs me, but you’ve taken half the sting of saying no away from me. I didn’t think when I suggested your name that you would even know what I was connected with. But I’m glad now it happened. I’d—like to—feel—we are friends!”

“Suits me to the ground,” said Bob eagerly. “I haven’t got many of that species. I should say you might head the list if you don’t mind. And now, I wonder if you’ll put me onto the ropes. I size it up that I haven’t got much time. Professor Hodge said you had all directions. Do you mind letting me copy them? I know you’ll want to keep the letter. It’s some honor to have been asked.”