"I t'ought so; I t'ought it was that blackguard. But how did the swine get in here? The stable was locked, an' I had the key in me pocket. I'll take me oath to that."

Carter took his cap off, ran a hand reflectively up and down the crown of his head, canva.s.sing every possible entry there might be to the stalls. Suddenly he replaced his cap and whistled softly. "I know, Mike; he crawled through the dung window. I've seen him do it half a dozen times. When he was too lazy to go for the keys, he'd wiggle through that hole."

Mike said nothing, but led the way to the back of the stable. There he climbed upon the pile of rotting straw, and examined closely the small, square opening, with its board slide, through which Shandy had pa.s.sed the night before.

"G.o.d! I t'ought so!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Here's more tobacco spit, where the cutt'roat divil stood when he opened the winder."

Looking down, his eye caught the glint of something bright deep in the straw. He dug his hand down into the ma.s.s and brought up a knife. "Whose is that, Ned?" he queried.

Carter looked at it closely. "Shandy's," he answered; "I'll swear to that. I've borrowed it from him more than once to clean out the horses'

hoofs."

"Bot' t'umbs up! I'd hang that b'y to a beam if I had him here. He cut that rein as sure as G.o.d made little apples," declared Mike, vehemently.

"An' the gall av him to go an' sit there in the ould stand to watch the Black run away wit' somewan an' kill 'em. Now jest kape yer mouth shut, Ned, an' we'll put a halter on this rooster. By hivins! when I git him I'll make him squale, too!"

XVII

The seriousness of Porter's accident became clearer to Doctor Rathbone the following day. He imparted this information to Allis; told her that in all probability it would be weeks before her father would be strong again.

"In the meantime, little woman, what are you to do with all these hungry horses on your hands?" he asked.

The girl's answer came quickly enough, for she had lain awake through all the dreary night, thinking out this problem. Without medical knowledge she had felt certain that her father was badly injured, and the gloomy future had come to her in the darkness instead of sleep.

"I'll look after them," she answered the doctor, quite simply.

A smile of skepticism hovered about his full lips, as he raised his eyes to the girl's face, but the look of determination, of confidence that he met put his doubts to flight. "I believe you can do it, if any man can,"

and he put his big hand on her slight shoulders, as much as to say, "I'm behind you; I believe in you."

Of course an inkling of Porter's condition had to be given his wife, though the full gravity was masked. This was done by Allis, and Mrs.

Porter immediately became a prey to abject despair.

The first thing to be done was to get rid of Diablo. She was too gentle to ask that he be shot, but he must go, even if he be given away.

She would willingly have sacrificed all the horses. Always with their presence had come financial troubles, spiritual troubles; now the lives of those dear to her were in actual peril. No wonder the good woman was rendered hysterical by the strong emotions that swayed her.

In her depression she somewhat startled Allis by insisting that they must send for Mr. Crane at once. After all, it was not so unreasonable; with the master of Ringwood helpless, who else could they consult with over their entangled condition? For, the past year Porter had found it necessary to keep in constant touch with the bank; so they must become familiar with the details of the entanglement.

Mrs. Porter had come to have the utmost confidence in Crane's friendship and ability; he was the one above all others to have Diablo taken off their hands. So Philip Crane, to his intense delight, was summoned to Ringwood. This was his first knowledge of Porter's mishap, for he had been in New York.

Crane was supposed to possess a rare magnetism; most certainly men came under his influence with a noiseless, cheerful complaisance. It may have been that there was a slight fascination in the oblique contour of his eyes, but in reality his power lay in his exquisite finesse; people delved for him under the impression that they were laboring according to the dictates of their own sweet wills. Figuratively speaking, he twisted Mrs. Porter round his finger, and so delightfully, that she was filled with grat.i.tude because of Crane's kindness in their hour of trouble.

The matter of Diablo was settled in a minute; he would buy the horse himself, and the price could be arranged when Mrs. Porter was able to discuss the matter--that is, definitely; in the meantime he would pay a thousand for him. He understood Porter had bough him for that price.

With a touch of kindly humor, Crane declared that he would have a small bet on the horse for Allis the first time he started.

Beyond parting with Diablo, Allis would not go farther in the matter of selling the horses; this was the full extent of her concession to the mother. Had she known that her father had entered Diablo in the Brooklyn Handicap she might even have refused to part with the horse. As it happened, Porter had entered both Lucretia and Diablo in the Brooklyn a day or so before his accident, but had not spoken of it.

Crane a.s.sured Mrs. Porter that she need not distract her mind over money matters, the bank could easily carry their lead until her husband was himself again. No matter how things turned out, it was a delicate matter to touch upon, the possibility of Porter's condition taking a serious turn, but coming from Crane it seemed like an earnest of his sincerity--well, Mrs. Porter would find a friend in him, quite willing and able to smooth their difficult path.

Crane had meant to defer any protestations of regard for Allis until a propitious future, but with his quick perception he saw that the psychological moment had been moved forward by the sudden effacement of the master of Ringwood. If he spoke now to Mrs. Porter it would give her a right to call upon his services. He would appear in the light of a debtor; it would break down barriers which might seem to exist because of their non-relationship.

Crane had not been without a suspicion that the younger man, Mortimer, might prove a rival; heroics such as the Diablo episode were apt to give young people a romantic interest in each other; Fate had more than evened matters up by giving him the present opportunity. He thought with some satisfaction how perfectly helpless Mortimer was in the present instance, for he was most undeniably poor. It was an opportunity to be grasped; and Crane never let the tide pa.s.s its flood in the waters of his life.

So the banker spoke to Mrs. Porter of his strong love for Allis; so delicately, and with so much sincerity, that she was completely won over. It is true, the ground had been prepared for the seed, for the mother had long feared that Allis might become attached to some one of Porter's racing a.s.sociates. Though strong in spiritual matters, the good woman was not without worldly instinct. She was pleased with Crane personally; he was not by any means a racing man; a rich banker, who would make a most desirable husband for her daughter. Of course, it would rest with the girl herself. Mrs. Porter would not coerce nor influence her; but why should not Allis come to care for Crane under the influence of his strong love?

Mrs. Porter's mind had rebounded from its dazed condition after her husband's accident, and was now acute. All these thoughts came to her with rapidity, as Crane talked with masterly judgment.

To the mother's suggestion that he speak to Allis he put forward a plea of delicate consideration for the girl; he would rather deny himself; he would wait patiently until her mind was in a happier condition. Cleverly enough he knew that Mrs. Porter was now his ally, and would plead his cause with less chance of failure than if he startled Allis by the sudden fronting of life's great problem.

When Crane had gone Allis found her mother calmed by his visit; his a.s.surances had driven away distressing clouds of financial worry.

Almost immediately Mrs. Porter transmitted to the girl what had come to her of Crane's declaration.

"It seems almost like an answer to my prayer," she said to Allis; "not, of course"--she interrupted herself--"that I've been praying for a husband for you, but this wicked racing has warped the whole woof of my life; it seemed inevitable in the strength of its contaminating atmosphere that you would be wedded into it, though one were better dead than willingly choose a path of sin."

"Then you've settled it, mother!" Allis's big eyes took on a dangerous look of rebellion.

"No, daughter; you must choose for yourself; only you will be wise not to go contrary to your parent's wishes. I did--"

"But you are not sorry, mother?" there was reproach in the girl's voice.

"Not for having wedded your father, but because of his racing life. I should have been firmer, and asked him to give it up before I married him. He might have done it then. Mr. Crane is a gentleman, Allis. That is a great deal nowadays, and he loves you most sincerely. Words often mean very little, but one can tell--at least when they've come to years of discretion they can--from a man's voice whether he is in earnest or not. I suppose it is very worldly to speak of his riches, but in poverty one can do very little, very little good. I had rather that you didn't have to look with misgiving into the future, Allis; it has taken much joy out of my existence. The dread of poverty is a nightmare; it wears one's life threadbare. To the young, buoyed up by confidence in the rosy future, this may seem sordid, but this feeling of insecurity mars many lives which might otherwise be happy.

"You see, Allis," her mother continued, "I know you are heart-whole, so I can't cause you any misery by my well-meant advice. You've been a good girl, and there has been n.o.body of your cla.s.s about. Mr. Mortimer is, I dare say, a gentleman, and I must confess I was afraid that you might mistake a feeling of generosity to him for something stronger; but that was only an idle fancy, I see. It would have been unfortunate if it were otherwise, for he is very poor indeed. His small salary must be all taken up in keeping himself, his widowed mother, and a younger sister."

Allis gave a sudden start. She had not known these particulars of Mortimer's life; but they carried certain explanations of his conduct.

Quite casually she had formed an impression that he was penurious; something he had dropped about not being able to afford certain pleasures. That was where the money went--to support his mother and sister. Unwittingly her mother was pleading the cause of two men.

The mother's talk depressed Allis greatly. Why should this troublesome matter come to her when she had so much to bear, so much to do. It gave her quite a shock to find that as her mother talked she was not thinking of Crane at all. She could not picture his face, even; just the narrow-lidded eyes peeped at her in her thoughts once or twice; it would be horrible to look into them forever and ever. The face of Mortimer, pale and firm-set as it had been in that day of strife, was always obliterating the other visage. Was her mother right? Was she so heart-whole? As if her thoughts had bearing on her mother's mind, the latter said: "I wouldn't have spoken to you of this matter while your father is so ill if it weren't for the fact that our position is very precarious. I can't understand just how badly off we are, but if anything were to happen your father, I hardly know what would become of us."

"And Mr. Crane has promised to help us if--if--" There was a hard ring in the girl's voice as she spoke, getting not past the "if," refusing to put into words the distressing thought.

"There is no 'if' about it, daughter. Mr. Crane is our friend, your father's friend, and he is going to help us; and he only spoke of his regard for you by way of an excuse--it was delicacy on his part, thinking that I would have less compunction in accepting his good offices. All I ask, girl, is that you will try to like Mr. Crane; if you can't, well, you won't find me making you unhappy. But I can tell you this, Allis, unless matters mend, and how the change is to come I can't say, your father will lose Ringwood and it will belong to Mr. Crane.

Even if the horses were sold off, the money would not clear the debts; besides, I think that even the horses are enc.u.mbered."

Allis stood in indecision for a little, thinking deeply; then she went up to her mother, and, taking her face in her hands, kissed her.

"I understand, mother," she said, "you are worrying over the dear old place, over my future, and over father, and it is nothing but worry, worry, worry all the time. But I'll save Ringwood for you, mother.

I hope father will soon be well again and that luck will change; but anyway, mother, I promise you that no matter what effort it costs me you sha'nt sacrifice the dear old place."

Mrs. Porter's eyes were wet with tears of grat.i.tude. She was thinking only of the redemption of the place through Crane; but Allis's words had meant far more than she had taken from them. They were inspired by a faith that she could save their fortunes without sacrificing herself to Crane. If not, if she failed, she was brave, she was a Porter, and would keep her word and save Ringwood, even at that price.

XVIII