"I can't tell you, Father," he said. "I'll come out all right, though.

Don't worry about me. I've just got to keep on working at the tannery as hard as I can."

"Are you trying to pay up something?" inquired his father, an inspiration seizing him.

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Coddington realized that further attempts to get at the truth were useless, and not a little perturbed he left the room.

All the next day Peter was haunted by reproaches. It took no very keen vision to detect that his father was worried, and this worry the boy felt he must relieve. His course lay clearly outlined before him; he would go to the hospital and ask Nat's permission to tell the entire story. Much as Peter disliked to speak of what he had done to help the Jacksons it was far preferable to having his father suffer the present anxiety.

Accordingly when Sat.u.r.day afternoon came Peter set forth to make his appeal to Nat. It was not until he almost reached the hospital that a new and disconcerting thought complicated the action which but a few moments before had appeared so simple. How was he to explain to Nat this intimacy with Mr. Coddington? The president of the company, Nat knew as well as he, had not been near Peter since he entered the tannery. Why should young Strong suddenly be venturing to approach this august personage with his petty troubles? Of course Nat wouldn't understand--no, nor anybody else for that matter who was unacquainted with the true situation. Here was a fresh obstacle in Peter's path. What should he do?

When he entered the ward he struggled bravely to bring his usual buoyancy to his command; but if the attempt was a sad failure it pa.s.sed unnoticed, for the instant he came within sight Nat beckoned to him excitedly.

"Guess who's been to see me!" cried he, his eyes shining with the wonder of his tidings. "Guess, Peter! Oh, you never can guess--Mr. Coddington, the boss himself! Yes, he did," he repeated as he observed Peter's amazement. "He came this morning and he sat right in that chair--that very chair where you are sitting now. He wanted to know everything about the accident, and about you; I had to tell him about Mother and the rent, and how you were taking my place at home and paying for things while I was sick. He screwed it all out of me! He inquired just how much we paid for our rooms, and what I earned, and how long I had been in the beamhouse. Then he asked what Father's name was, and what Mother's family name was before she was married; and strangest of all, he wanted to know if we came from Orinville, Tennessee. That was my mother's old home, but I don't see how Mr. Coddington knew it, do you? Goodness, Peter! He shot off questions as if they were coming out of a gun. Then he began to ask about you and where you lived, and who your people were.

Doesn't it seem funny, Pete--well as I know you I couldn't tell him one of those things? So I just said that I didn't know, but that Peter Strong was the finest fellow in the world, and he seemed to agree with me. Afterward he went away. What ever do you suppose made him come?"

"I don't know," Peter replied thoughtfully.

All the way home Peter pondered on the marvel. How had his father found out about his friendship for Nat? It must have been Bryant who had told; n.o.body else knew. Bryant had overheard Nat's conversation the day he had been taken to the hospital, and Bryant must have acquainted Mr.

Coddington with the whole affair. Well, it was better so. His father now had the facts, and had them direct from Nat himself. Peter would be divulging no confidence if he mentioned them.

During the next few days many a surprise awaited Peter Strong. When he went to pay Mrs. Jackson's weekly rent he was told by the landlord that the account had already been settled, and the rent paid three months in advance. A gentleman had paid it. No, the landlord did not know who it was. In addition to this good fortune Mrs. Jackson astonished the boy still further by dangling before his gaze a substantial check which she said had come from the Coddington Company with a kind note of sympathy.

The check was to be used for defraying expenses during the illness of her son.

Peter had no difficulty in guessing the source of this generosity.

Nor was this all. Nat scrawled him an incoherent note that bubbled with delight; he had been promoted to the finishing department, and henceforth was to receive a much larger salary!

That night Peter went home a very happy boy. It seemed as if there was not room for any more good things to be packed into a single day; but when at evening a crate came marked with his name, and on investigation it proved to contain the long-coveted motorcycle, Peter's joy knew no bounds.

"Do you suppose now that your chum Strong could let Peter Coddington return to school?" was his father's unexpected question.

Peter stopped short.

It was a long time before he spoke; then he said slowly:

"Father, I don't think there is a Peter Coddington any more. There's only Peter Strong, and he is so interested in his work and in doing real things that you couldn't coax him to go to school if you tried--especially since he has just been given a new motorcycle!"

Mr. Coddington rubbed his hands together as he always did when he was pleased.

"You must not decide hastily, Peter," urged he. "Take a week to think carefully about it and then tell me your decision."

"But I know now!" cried Peter. "A little while ago I thought the tannery the most awful place in the world; I hated the smell of it and the very sight of the leather. But somehow I do not feel that way now. I did not realize this until you spoke the other day of my leaving and going back to school; then I was surprised to discover that, when I thought it all over, I did not want to go back. Work can be fun--even hard work--if all the time you know that you are doing something real--something that is needed and that helps. If you don't mind, Father, I'd rather stay in the tannery and aid Peter Strong to work up."

"Do you still insist on Peter Strong's doing the climbing? Why not give Peter Coddington a chance?"

"I'd rather not, sir. It was Peter Strong who began at the foot of the ladder, and I want him to be the one to reach the top if he can; it is only fair. Please don't spoil it now by crowding Peter Coddington into his place."

"Well, well! You may do your own way, Peter, but it is on one condition.

Nat Jackson needs a trip away. The doctors say he is tired out and won't get well as fast as he should unless he has a change of some sort. I am going to arrange with his mother to take him for a month to the seash.o.r.e, and I know he will be much happier if Peter Strong goes with him. What do you say?"

Peter looked intently at his father, a tiny cloud darkening his face.

"You need not have any compunctions about going, Peter," explained Mr.

Coddington, reading the trouble in his eyes. "Both the boys have worked faithfully and need a vacation. Their positions will be held for them until they return and their pay will go on during their absence."

"Oh, Father! How good of you to do so much, not only for me but for Nat and his mother!"

Mr. Coddington did not reply at once. After a pause he said gently:

"Peter, anything I can do for the Jackson family is but a small part of what I owe them. All my life I have tried to trace them. I have searched from Tennessee to Cape Cod. And now, here in my own tannery, I find the clue for which I have been hunting. Your friend Nat and his mother are proud people, and would never accept all that I wish I might offer them; but at least I have this opportunity to furnish help in a purely business way. To provide this trip is a great pleasure to me. Some time you shall know the whole story and then you will understand. I want you to know, for the obligation is one that will go down from father to son so long as a Coddington lives to bear the name. Good-night, my boy."

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VII

THE CLIMB UP THE LADDER

If Peter expected to hear more of the mysterious tie that linked his family with that of the Jacksons he was disappointed; for his father did not refer to the story again, and although the boy burned with curiosity to know more he had not the courage to ask. Had not Mr. Coddington gone steadily forward perfecting plans for the seash.o.r.e outing it would have seemed as if the incident had entirely slipped from his mind. But the personal interest he displayed in arranging every detail of the trip proved beyond question that the memory of the obligation at which he had hinted was still vividly before him. The vacation was arranged without trouble. Mrs. Jackson's first objections to accepting this favor at the hands of the Coddington Company were quieted when told by the doctors that the plan would be highly beneficial to the health of her boy. Both Peter and Nat were in high spirits. To lads who had been confined within doors all summer the prospect of bathing, sailing, and a month in the open was like water to the thirsty.

Fortunately Dame Nature herself smiled graciously upon the project, for during the next four weeks she coaxed back to earth warm, golden days from the fast fleeing Indian summer. The magic touch of sunshine and fresh air flooded Nat's cheek with healthy color and as if by miracle, strength returned to the delicate ankle; as for Peter he became swarthy as a young Arab. So delighted was Mrs. Jackson in watching the transformation in her two boys that she was quite unaware that a soft pinkiness was stealing into her own face. A vacation had seemed such an impossible thing that she had never dared picture how welcome such a rest would be.

When, weeks later, the trio returned to town and Mr. Coddington surprised them by meeting them at the station with the motor-car his gratification was extreme. He waved aside all thanks, however, and after dropping Nat and his mother at their home he rolled off with Peter, explaining that he would take the lad to his own door. Nat wondered not a little where that door was, and he would have been overwhelmed with amazement had he known that portals no less pretentious than those of the Coddington mansion itself opened to receive his chum. Very wide open indeed were they thrown when the car bringing Peter and his father turned into the long avenue leading to the house. How glad Peter's mother was to see him, and how satisfied she was with the witchcraft that wind and wave had wrought!

"I guess there is no doubt that now you are fit either for school or for work, Peter," said Mr. Coddington. "Which is it to be? Are you still firm in your decision to stick to the tannery? It isn't too late to change your mind, you know, if you wish to do so."

"I'm firmer for the tannery than ever, Father," answered Peter, smiling.

"Going to fight it out, are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good!"

It was only one word, but Peter knew that his father was pleased.

Accordingly on the following Monday morning the boy again took up his old work in the finishing department. Here Nat joined him, and since this branch of leather manufacture was an entirely new world to Jackson, Peter took his turn at explaining its various processes, and felt no little pride in having the teaching obligations reversed, and being able to give his chum instructions concerning matters of which he was ignorant. The two boys were becoming quite expert at boarding calfskins and had settled down with great contentment to this task when one day they were surprised and perhaps not a little disappointed to receive orders to leave their present occupation and report for duty at Factory 2, the sheepskin tannery.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN THE FINISHING DEPARTMENT]

"Another beamhouse!" exclaimed Peter in dismay. "I thought we were through with that sort of thing for good and all, Nat."

"Oh, it isn't likely we'll stay there," was Nat's hopeful rejoinder.

"Evidently somebody higher up wants us to have this chance to see how sheepskins are prepared and I, for one, am not sorry for I've no very clear idea."