Three Mormon Boys

By Homespun [Susa Young Gates]

Chapter 7

The cold storms began that year, the year — 186– — in the fall months, and our three friends were not able to carry on as much mischief as in the warm days of summer and spring.

There had moved into the neighborhood a family of father, mother and six boys of all sizes from grown men down to six years old. One of these boys, whose name was Jim, began to seek the society of our three friends. The name of the family was Balfour, and it was not many weeks before the whole lot of them, unless it was the poor, hard-worked mother, began to bear a very unsavory reputation. John Brown did not need to go with a boy more than one day to discover if he were his sort of boy or not. And it took him less time than that to find out that Jim Balfour, who was about his own age, was not at all his kind of associate. To be sure he was mischievous; but his mischief generally was too strongly tinctured with dishonesty, to suit plain John Brown. Martin had once or twice attempted things which had a slight flavor of that sort, but the good advice and example of the other two boys had made him ashamed for his conduct, and he had let the objectionable thing pass by. Now, it seemed as if Martin were about to be subjected to a sharp test. John in some occult way divined this, and with all his strength and influence sought to turn Martin away from the reckless company of Jim Balfour.

It had been a long time since John had had a stand up fight with any one, but he felt the fever of fight growing in his veins every time he saw his old friend Martin in company with Jim.

John was a large, well made boy of his age, and bid fair to develop into a powerfully built six footer. Martin was now, however, taller than John, and was as handsome a lad as one would well wish to see. He was dark, with melting brown eyes, and a creamy skin like a Spanish girl’s. His hair was just curly enough to fall off his brow with a careless grace. His nose was the poorest feature of his face, for it was short and small. His other features were regular and his face was a perfect oval.

John Brown had dark brown eyes, but they were as sharp as a falcon’s, and they had a way of opening to their widest extent and looking straight into the face of every one with whom he came in contact, with a look which seemed to say “I am perfectly honest and perfectly fearless, and what and who are you?” His face was full of force and character; a face which fully justified Aunt Mary’s remark al)out his becoming cither a very good and wise man, or else a very bad and a very wicked man. His hair was likewise curly, but it stood away from his head in a most aggressive and rebellious manner. His broad, square cut chin, was the exact opposite of Martin’s, as was also his great, big, well shaped nose. Add to this a look, as. if he threw on his clothes and was not very particular as to whether they remained on or not, and you will have a pretty fair pen picture of my good friend John Brown.

I think I have told you that Bertie was a slender chap, rather small of his age, lithe and supple as a cat, and as lively as the traditional cricket. You already know that his eyes were an indescribable mixture of grey and yellow, commonly denominated a hazel eye, and that his face, while not handsome like Martin’s, nor striking like John’s, was so full of brightness and sweetness from the top of his rather high forehead to the end of his full sensitive chin that every one who saw that face felt drawn in loving bonds to the owner thereof.

As for Jim Balfour’s face, it was as full of character as John’s, and would have been nearly as handsome as Martin’s, but it lacked the one pure element that went to make up Bertie’s attractiveness, and that was innocence and clear honesty. Lackmg that, it became coarse and unlovely, and when manhood should be reached it would be depraved and vicious. Jim was just as bad and dishonest as John was good and honest.

While we have been discussing the looks of these boys, they were all standing on the street corner talking earnestly.

“I can tell you boys they are beauties, and they just make my mouth water to think of them. The old codger will not know a thing about it, and we can get all we want for a whole week.”

“Do you mean that we are to go and steal! Doctor Harvey’s pears while he is out of town?” asked John in his bluntest tones and with his most contemptuous manner.

“Oh what are ye givin’ us with your talk about stealin’?” angrily retorted Jim Balfour. “I guess you wouldn’t talk about stealin’ if you found a pin in the road, and I tell ye this fruit cellar is left unlocked just as if it were in the street. If he puts his pears right where every one can see and take ’em, it isn’t our fault if they are taken.”

“Well, its my fault if I am caught stealing anything, and I don’t engage in any such practice, not if I know myself. Come along, boys. Mart, let’s go down to your house and see if your mother will let us make some molasses candy.” John spoke with all the earnest coaxing he was able to put into his voice, for he felt that Martin hesitated, and he insensibly realized his danger.

As Martin hesitated, Jim laughed and said sneeringly, “ I guess you two boys are tied to your mammy’s apron string. What kind o’ men do you expect to make?”

“Better men than you will ever be,” snapped John.

They were standin’g near the home of Bishop Johnson. Bertie, who saw they were both getting angry, interfered.

“Say, boys,” he said, “ Don’t talk so loud; the bishop will hear you and come out to see what is the matter.”

“Oh, d — the bishop and all his tribe to h — ,” shouted the now thoroughly roused Jim.

“Perhaps you will curse us as well,” sneeringly said John, standing sideways with his arm slightly raised as if to parry a blow.

“Yes I will if you want me to,” responded Jim, swearing foully.

“Then take that, and that!” howled the excited John, who planted blows swift and fast into his adversary’s face. The fight was a brief one, for John Brown was a match for boys far larger than himself, and Jim arose from the ground bleeding and sore. The four boys separated, and John was furiously angry to see that Martin accompanied Jim, for his struggle had been in vain, he knew that. He had been willing to fight for his friend, but he did not have the gentle tact a woman or wise girl would have had in similar circumstances, to win the weak lad over by kindness, not force.

In an inscrutable way Martin knew that the fight had been picked to draw him off from associations with Jim, and he resented with all a weak person’s fury the implication that he was not able to take care of himself. So that John and Jim both wore black eyes for a season, and John was moody and sore in spirit as well as in body, for he saw he had lost his former influence over his friend and that his loss had been Jim Balfour’s gain.

From that night Jim Balfour took especial delight in planning dishonest tricks and mean traps in which to lead Martin captive, and he well knew that each time the hearts of the two loyal old friends of Martin ached with sorrow. He cared not to the contrary; he took a keen delight in planning deeper and more wicked tricks every day.

The family of Balfour were originally from England, and the father’s shiftless ways and drunken habits had broken down the spirits of his wife years before. They had never been cut off from the Church, but the whole family were sinking into deeper paths of vice and sin every day. The father made no attempt to deny his apostasy from the Church, and although they were all sly enough to keep their vile doings hid from the general public eye, yet they were fast becoming reckless to all outward appearances. It was only for the poor mother’s sake that the exposure, sure to come, had been postponed by the neighbors, for she was a patient, quiet woman, who begged always for “Just one more trial for my boys,” and that had hitherto saved them from being dealt with in process of law.

Doctor Harvey had, as was stated by Jim, taken his family out of town for a brief visit. He had left the door of his fruit cellar fastened with a simple latch. He was a man who always hated to believe ill of his neighbors or their children, and used to say the way to make thieves of boys was to lock everything from them. In this cellar were some beautiful pears, which were just taking upon themselves the golden ripeness and rich mellowness suitable for the Christmas table.

A week after the fight between John and Jim the doctor returned from his country visit, and it was not many hours before he had discovered that his fruit had been lessened almost half. Careful and quiet inquiries around the neighborhood failed to elicit any definite information, although there were many suspicious words said about the Balfour family.

The good doctor returned to his home with a troubled face. He hated to censure the wrong boy, and yet he felt that it was his duty to protect his property from the depredations of thieves, and also to help his neighbors to get their erring boys into the right path.

After sitting some time on his vine-wreathed porch, he arose with a slight smile on his face, and wended his way to his private office, where he kept his modest stock of drugs. When he emerged he had five lovely pears in his hands, the largest of his whole stock, and these he carried down to his fruit house and placed in prominent positions near the door. Then locking the door with the same simple latch which had always before proved sufficient, he walked slowly back to the house, his face now sad and now breaking j into a somewhat mischievous smile about some thought passing through his mind.

It must have been about four o’clock the next morning when a sharp and startled knock came at the doctor’s door. He got up hastily as if he had been expecting it, and hurried to the door.

“Who is there?” he called.

“It is Rose Thomson,” answered that young lady. “Mother has sent me over for you to come right away, for Martin is in the awfulest way; she is afraid he is going to die.”

“Martin Thomson,” the doctor soliloquized, as he drew on his pantaloons. “My conscience, this is bad. I never could have believed it. But I must make sure before I say anything. Poor boy, poor, misguided boy.”

The two hurried across the intervening streets, and were soon at the bedside of the screaming, writhing, young man.

(To be continued)