Part 2 (1/2)

Shorty subsided; he had not expected this, and, truth to tell, he felt at that moment that his sneers had accomplished precisely the opposite effect to what he had intended; but Hal made no comment until just before they got into their beds; then he said evenly:

”Shorty, you and I are room-mates, we have been pals for over a year; we won't discuss s.h.a.g Larocque, for I see that we shall never agree about him.”

”I hate a mongrel,” sniffed Shorty; ”this fellow is neither Indian nor white.”

”He's more Indian than white, and better for it, too,” said Hal; ”but, I say, Shorty--what nationality was your father?”

”Irish,” said Shorty, with some pride.

”And your mother?” persisted Hal relentlessly.

”Oh, mother's parents were English; she was born here in Canada,”

replied Shorty a little weakly.

”Oh!” was all Hal said, but it held a world of meaning.

”Now, see here, Hal,” began Shorty apologetically, ”I know what you are thinking, but I'm British right through and my skin's white, no matter how you take it. I'm white on both sides of the family; I'm not splashed with tinted blood like this fellow from the North-West that's strayed in here; his skin's almost yellow.”

”Yes,” acquiesced Hal, ”his skin is tinted--it is tinted, not tainted.

There's a big difference, Shorty. Do you know, I'd give the world if I had as much of a copper-colored tint to my skin as s.h.a.g has.”

”Rot!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Shorty.

”No rot at all,” cut in Hal; ”I love the Indian people. You call this chap a 'mongrel,' but I tell you he is Indian--anyone can see it, and I know it. His father may have cooked in camp for my father, and did so, but from what my father told me, he, French Pete, was an honest man, and a brave one, too, and his son's good enough for me, and I'm his friend until the last dog's hung.”

That ended things for the time, for the college bells clanged out ”lights out,” and the inmates, both white and Indian, slept.

”Yes, my dear boy,” wrote Sir George, some weeks later, ”by all means bring young Larocque home for the Easter vacation; I shall welcome the son of my old friend and guide with the greatest delight. I have frequently told you of French Pete's heroism and unselfishness, and if by a little hospitality I can show the son what I think of the father, I shall regard it as a privilege. Your dear mother will write you to-night, and will enclose a little note of invitation from us both to your friend 's.h.a.gganappi'--how that good old North-West word brings back my youth! I think I like your friend, even before I see him, just because he has adopted that name.”

So it was all arranged that s.h.a.g should spend the Easter vacation at the palatial home of the Benningtons in Montreal. As Hal was so popular, this holiday invitation was always regarded as the greatest compliment by any boy who was fortunate enough to receive it, but never before had Lady Bennington written personally to invite one of Hal's friends.

It was such a dear little note, too; Hal never admired his mother quite so much as when s.h.a.g handed him the invitation to read. Lady Bennington was famous as one of the few women who always say and do the right thing at the right moment. The note ran:

”Dear s.h.a.gganappi,-- ”Do come with my boy at Eastertide; we want you--come.

”Your friend, Hal's mother, ”CONSTANCE BENNINGTON.”

So Easter found the boys at Montreal, s.h.a.g a little shy at first amidst all the grandeur and wealth of Hal's home, but covering that shyness with a quiet dignity that sat very well on his young shoulders. With a wonderful knack of delicacy, Hal would smooth out any threatened difficulty for the Indian boy--little table entanglements, such as new dishes or unaccustomed foods. But s.h.a.g was at times surprisingly outspoken, and the first night at dinner seemingly won Sir George's heart by remarking when the fruit plates and finger-gla.s.ses were served, ”Now, Hal, don't be afraid that I won't understand this; fortunately I dined on the dining-cars on the way East.” Everyone laughed then, including s.h.a.g, and Sir George said, ”Then you are better up in things than I was at your age, my boy. I never saw a finger-gla.s.s until I was twenty.” So this little confidence put them all on a kind of family footing; and during the rest of his visit s.h.a.g was not afraid to ask and learn any of the usages of wealthy city houses and manners that might puzzle him. When he left he had endeared himself to Hal's parents as no other boy had done before. Lady Bennington especially seemed to have become attached to him. Once when Hal was taking some snapshots of the grounds, she called s.h.a.g to her side, and, placing one hand on his shoulder, asked Hal to photograph them together. s.h.a.g almost trembled with pleasure, but his delight knew no bounds when a week after their return to school he received a little copy of the photograph framed in silver and inscribed on the back with ”To s.h.a.gganappi Larocque, with love from Hal's mother.”

”I don't know why you and your people are so good to me,” he declared to Hal, when they both had duly admired the little picture. Hal stared at him rather oddly, but did not reply, and it was many months before s.h.a.g understood what that look meant; but when it was explained the Indian recalled many things that had once perplexed him.

It was late in May when Sir George and Lady Bennington left on their yearly visit to England, leaving Hal with the enviable holiday ahead of him of playing host at their summer residence in the Thousand Islands.

He was privileged to ask what boys he liked; he could have his own canoe and sailboat, any of the servants from the city residence that he wished, and just put in one long, golden summer, swimming, boating, rollicking around, getting tanned and healthy. The only stipulation his parents made was that in addition to the crowd of boys asked he must invite one of the masters. It did not matter which one, so what did Hal do but ”cheek it up” to the Head, who had no family to summer with, and who usually wandered off to some lonely mountain resort by himself for the entire vacation. Professor Warwick was amazed.

”Why, Bennington,” he exclaimed, ”what ever do you want an old codger like me for? There's young Graham, almost a boy himself, and Lewes, the science man, a funny chap. I always think Mr. Lewes is more fun than a cage of cats. I'm a dried-up old fellow that most of the boys are afraid of. You won't enjoy yourself with me around all the time.”

”We're only afraid of you in cla.s.ses, sir,” laughed Hal; ”no one is afraid of you outside. I've heard the boys josh you on the ball grounds and at the sports no end of times. You've just got to come, Professor!”

And the old gentleman did go, to the delight of Hal's parents, who left for England perfectly satisfied that the boys would be well looked after if the Professor was an inmate of their island home.