Budd Boyd's Triumph

It was a raw, cold, day in the month of March. Since early morning the clouds had been gathering, and they now hung dark and heavy over both land and sea. The wind, too, which had for hours been steadily increasing in violence, now blew little short of a gale. It evidently was going to be a terrible night, and that night was near at hand.

No one realized this more than the young lad, who, with a small bundle in one hand and a stout staff in the other, was walking rapidly along the highway that runs near the west shore of Narragansett Bay. He was a lad that would have attracted attention anywhere. Tall for his age, which could not have been far from sixteen years, he was also of good proportions, and walked with an ease and stride which suggested reserved strength and muscular development.

But it was the lad's face that was the most noticeable. Frank, open, of singular beauty in feature and outline, there were also upon it unmistakable evidences of intelligence, resoluteness, and honesty of purpose. A close observer might also have detected traces of suffering or of sorrow on it--possibly of some great burden hard to bear.

The lad was none too warmly clad for the chilly air and piercing wind, and now and then drew his light overcoat about him as though even his rapid walking did not make him entirely comfortable. He also looked eagerly ahead, like one who was watching for some signs of his destination. He drew a sigh of relief as he reached the foot of a steep hill, and said aloud:

"I must be near the place, now. They said it was at the top of the first long hill I came to, and this must be the hill."

As he spoke he quickened his pace to a run, and soon reached the summit, quite out of breath, but with a genial warmth in his body that he had not experienced for some hours.

Pausing now a moment to catch his breath, he looked about him. Dim as was the light of the fast-falling evening, he could not help giving an exclamation of delight at the vision he beheld. To the north and west of him he saw the twinkling lights of several villages through which he had already passed. To the east of him was the bay, its tossing waves capped with white, its islands like so many dark gems on the bosom of the angry waters. To the south there was first a stretch of land, and then the broad expanse of the well-nigh boundless ocean.

"It must be a beautiful place to live, and I hope to find a home here," he remarked, as he resumed his journey.

A few rods farther on he came to a farm-house, and turned up to its nearest door. As he was about to knock, a man came from the barn-yard, a little distance away, and accosted him:

"Good-evening!"

"Good-evening!" responded the lad.

Then he asked:

"Is this Mr. Benton?"

"No; I'm Mr. Wright," answered the man, pleasantly. "Benton lives on the next farm. You will have to turn into the next gateway and go down the lane, as his house stands some distance from the road."

"I was told," explained the lad, "that he wished to hire help, and I hoped to get work there. Could you tell me what the prospect is?"

The man had now reached the boy's side, and was looking him over with evident curiosity.

"Well," he replied, slowly, "I think he wants to get a young fellow for the coming season, and hadn't hired anyone the last I knew. But I guess you must be a stranger in these parts."

"Yes," the lad answered, briefly; and then thanking the man for his information he turned away.

"I thought so," the man called after him, "else you wouldn't want to go there to work."

The boy scarcely gave heed to the remark then; but it was not long before he knew by hard experience the meaning of it.

A quarter of a mile farther on he reached a gate, and passing through it, he hastened down the narrow lane till he came to a long, low, dilapidated house; but in the darkness, which had by this time fallen, he was not able to form any definite idea of his surroundings.

A feeble light came forth from a back window, and guided by this, he found the rear door of the building. To his knock there was a chorus of responses. Dogs barked, children screamed, and above the din a gruff voice shouted:

"Come in!"

A little disconcerted by the unusual sounds, the lad, instead of obeying the invitation, knocked again. Then there was a heavy step across the floor, the door swung open with a jerk, and a tall, raw-boned man, shaggy-bearded and shock-haired, stood on the threshold.

Eying the lad for a moment in surprise, he asked, somewhat surlily:

"What do you want, youngster?"

"Are you Mr. Benton?" the lad asked.

"Yes; what of it?" the man answered, sharply.

"I was told you wanted help, and I have called to see about it," explained the boy.

"Come in, then," said the man, and his tones were wonderfully modified.

The lad now obeyed, and found himself in a large room, evidently the kitchen and living-room all in one. There was no carpet on the floor, and a stove, a table and a half-dozen chairs constituted its furniture.

Two large dogs lay before the fire, growling sullenly. A woman and four small children were seated at the table. An empty chair and an unemptied plate showed that Mr. Benton had been eating when he was called to the door.

There was food enough upon the table, but its disorderly arrangement, and the hap-hazard way in which each child was helping itself, caused the lad to give an involuntary shudder as his host invited him to sit down "an' take a bite while they talked over business together."

Mr. Benton evidently meant to give his caller a most flattering impression of his hospitality, for he heaped the lad's plate with cold pork, brown bread, and vegetables, and even called on his wife to get some of that "apple sass" for the young stranger.

The boy was hungry, and the food was, after all, wholesome, and he stowed away a quantity that surprised himself, if not his host. When supper was eaten, Mr. Benton pushed back his chair and abruptly asked his guest:

"Who are ye?"

"Budd Boyd," promptly answered the lad.

"That's a kinder cur'us name, now ain't it?" questioned Mr. Benton. "I dunno any Boyds round here. Where be ye from?"

"I came from Massachusetts," replied Budd, with the air of one who had studied his answer; but it seemed for some reason to be very satisfactory to his questioner.

"Any parents?" next inquired Mr. Benton.

"My mother is dead, and my father is not keeping house now. I'm to look out for myself," said the lad, somewhat hesitatingly.

"I guess ye ain't used to farm work, be ye?" now inquired Mr. Benton, doubtingly, and looking at Budd's hands, which were as white and soft as a lady's.

"No, sir; but I'm willing to learn," said the lad.

"Of course ye can't expect much in the way of wages," remarked Mr. Benton, cautiously.

"No, not until I can do my full share of work," said Budd, indifferently.

A light gleamed for a moment in Mr. Benton's eyes.

"I might give ye ten dollars a month an' board, beginnin' the fust of the month, ye to work round for yer board till then," he ventured.

"Very well," responded the lad; and immediately after he added:

"I've walked a good ways to-day, and if you don't mind, I'll go to my room."

"Purhaps we'd better draw up a paper of agreement, an' both of us sign it," suggested Mr. Benton, rubbing his hands vigorously together, as though well pleased with himself and everybody else.

"All right, if that is your custom," said Budd. "Draw up the paper, and I'll sign it."

After considerable effort, Mr. Benton produced the following document:

On this 20 day of March Budd Boyd, a miner of Mass., agres to work for me, John Benton. He's to begin work April fust, an' work 6 munths, at 10 dollers an' bord. He's to work til the fust for his bord. If he quits work before his time is up he's to have no pay. To this I agree.

JOHN BENTON, on his part.

Budd read the paper, and could scarcely suppress a smile as he signed his name under Mr. Benton's, and in imitation of him, added the words "on his part" after the signature. He knew, however much importance Mr. Benton might attach to it, that as a legal document it had no special force. He simply set the whole act down as one of the whims of his employer, and gave no more thought to the matter. But it was destined to serve that gentleman's purpose, nevertheless, until taken forcibly from him.

Mr. Benton now showed Budd up to a back room on the second floor, and telling him that he would call him early in the morning, bade him good-night.

The room the lad had entered was bare and cold. A single chair, a narrow bedstead, a rude rack on the wall to hang his garments upon, were all it contained. Yet it was evidently with some satisfaction that the lad opened his bundle, hung up the few clothes it held, and prepared for bed. As he drew the quilts over himself he murmured:

"I don't think I ever had more uncomfortable quarters in my life, and the outlook for the next six months, at least, is far from encouraging. Still, I would not go back to what I have left behind for anything."

He was tired. The rain that was now falling heavily upon the roof just over his head acted as a sedative and lulled him to sleep. But his was not an unbroken rest, for at times he tossed to and fro, and muttered strange sentences. One was, "Father never did it; how could they treat him so?" Another, "I can never face them again; no, never!" Still another, "Thank Heaven, mother never lived to know the worst!" After that the troubled sleeper must have had pleasanter dreams, for he murmured the words, "Mother; father; a home at last!" From these, however, he was rudely awakened by a gruff call:

"Budd! Budd! get up and come out to the barn."

Dazed, bewildered, he arose, and groped about in the darkness for his clothing. By the time he was dressed a full consciousness of his situation had come back to him, and with a stout heart he went out, to begin what was to him equally new duties and a new life.