The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1910-09-30
CHAPTER XIV.

fAOoaloIil. Woulu GOQ naQ cleo IOr
| thee, 0 Absalom, my son, my, son!"
CHAPTER XIV.
Once in a lifetime for every young
| ling climbing the facile or difficult slope
| of the years there comes day of real
| ization, of a sudden extension of vision,
| of Rubicon- crossing from the hither
shore of joyous and irresponsible adol-
| escence to that further one of con-
scious grapplings with the adult fac..
For Thomas Jefferson, grinding ten
aciously in the Boston technical school,
whittier he had gone late in the win
ter of Beersheban discomfort, the
stream crossing fell in the spring of
the panic year 1893, what time he was
FL, quarterback on his college elev-
en-, fit, hardy, studious and athletic; a
pace setter for his fellows and the
pride of the faculty, but still little more
than an overgrown, care-free boy in
his outlook on life. Glimpses there had
been over into the Promised Land of
manhood, but the trimming cup of col
lege work and play quaffed in health
giving heartiness is the elixir of youth.
The speculative habit of the boy slept
in the college undergraduates The days
were full, each of the things of itself,
and If Tom looked forward to the
workaday future-as he did by times
the boyish Impotence to be at it was
gone. Chiawassee Consolidated was
moderately prosperous; the home let
tiers were mere chronicles of sleepy
Paradise. The skies were clear, and
the present was acutely present. Tom
studied hard and played hard; ate like
an ogre and slept like log. And when
he finally awoke to find himself STUN
bling bewildered on the bank of the
epoch-making Rubicon, he was over
and across before he could realize how
chasm.
er telling Of the financial crisis, his
fear for the Chiawasse Consolidated,
and asking his advice.
Tom found this letter in his mail
box one evening after a strenuous day
in the laboratory; and that night he
sat up with the corpse Of his later
boyhood, though he was far enough
from putting it that way. His father
| was in trouble, and the letter was a
call for help. It seemed vastly incred-
lUit. uOiIldS JGIlSTSOIl Iu6dl OIL SIGduy
courage, of invincible human puis-
sance, was formed on the model Of the
stout-hearted old soldier who had
fought under Stonewall Jackson. What
a trumpet blast of alarm must have
sounded to make such man turn to a
raw recruit for help!
ITS up to me-" he unused, land ia
like to know what I've been thinkingof
all this time. Why, pappy's old! he
was 40 before I was born. And I've
been here taking it easy and having
all sorts Of a good time while he's
been playing Sindbad to Duxbury Far
leys Old Man of the Sea. Coming.
pappy!" he shouted; and forthwith
flung himself down at the table to
write letter that was to put new life
into weary old man who was fighting
against odds in the far-away South
land.
The lone soldier was to take heart
of grace, remembering that he had
son; remembering also that the son
was now a man grown, stout of arm,
steady Of head, and otherwise fighting
fit. If the storm should come, the
watchword must be to hold on all.
keeping steerage-way on the Chiawas-
see Consolidated craft at all hazards.
The June examinations were not far
off, and these disposed of, the man
son would be ready to lay hold. Mean
while let Caleb Gordon, in his capacity
of principal minor stakeholder. insist
on a full and exact statement of the
company's affairs, and-here the new
manhood asserted itself boldly-let that
statement, or copy of It, come to
Boston by the first mail
To this letter there was grateful
reply in which Tom read with smile
his fathers half bewildered attempt to
ge. over to the new point Of view. It
| began. Dear Buddy" and ended. Your
affectionate pappy," but there was
man to man matter between the sal,t-
| tation and the signature. The inquiry
| into the affairs Of Chiawassee Console
dated had revealed little or nothing
more than the general manager all
| ready knew. The president had turn
| ed the induiring stock holder over TO
Dycknan. the bookkeeper, with in
! structions to give Mr. Gordon the full
est possible informa ton, and:
ssDyckman slid out of it., smooth and
easy-like,'' Calem's letter went on. He
| allowed he was mighty busy. right
about then. Wouldn't / just make my
/ self at home and examine the books
| for myself? reckon that was about
4 what Farley wanted him to 40. m no
book expert, and / couldn't make head
or tail out Of Dyckman's spider tracks.
Looks to me like ali the books are good
for is to keep people from finding
where the company il at What little
I found out. young Norman told me-
i He says were In hole, and rne f1rst
wagon-load Of dirt that comes along
win bury as out OF sight.
Tom, driven now with the closing
4 work Of the college year. vet took time
to write another heartening letter to
. the hard-pressed old soldier. It had
been his good fortune to win the Clark
son prize for crucible tests, and to
. have rained thereby = snea king 60