’Ram, a strong boy of sixteen, with bright red hair, who usually domineered over all the boys of his age and under,—particularly under,—had never before been so answered by any of his companions, much less Lammy, to whom he often referred as “softy,” and his temper rose accordingly. His nickname “’Ram,” short for Abiram, referred to his fighting proclivities and the way in which he frequently used his bullet head to knock out an antagonist instead of his fists; and though he did not see fit to follow the matter then and there, in his mind he put down Lammy for punishment when he should next catch him alone.
Meanwhile Lammy, silently threading through the dense underbrush, followed by Bob Jedd, reached the swimming-hole, while ’Ram slowly brought up the rear, crashing along sullenly, kicking the dead branches right and left so that the little ground beasts fled before him, now and then pausing either to pound a luckless land turtle with a stone, or shake from its perch some bird who, silent and dejected, had sought deep cover for its moulting time.
When he reached the others, he found not only that Lammy had made friends with the students, who, by the way, were a new lot who had recently come to camp, but that they were asking him all sorts of questions to draw out his knowledge of the neighbourhood, and were actually making Lammy a good offer if he would come to the camp daily during their stay, be “chainboy” on their surveying expeditions, and show them many things about the country that it would be a waste of time for them to search out for themselves.
Now Mr. and Mrs. Slocum had been very much stirred up by these same surveyors, and being suspicious, as shifty people usually are, wondered very much if the men were only practising as they claimed, or if they were in the pay of some land company, and prospecting, that they might see where land could be bought in large blocks. They had tried all summer to have ’Ram employed about the camp, that he might keep his eyes and ears open, but so far to no avail. Consequently, when the boy heard the coveted position offered to Lammy, his rage and disappointment got the better of his usually shrewd discretion, and pushing into the group, he almost shouted, his voice pitched high with eagerness:—
“Lammy ain’t the one you want; he ain’t strong, and he’s got no go. I’m two years older and worth twice as much, but I’ll take the job at the same price and get pop to let you swim in the mill-pond if you’ll hire me.”
“I rather think not,” said the spokesman, a bronzed, broad-shouldered young fellow of about nineteen. “I’m afraid you might charge us for the air we breathed while we were in swimming; besides, I never employ a sneak if I know it.”
Then ’Ram knew that he had been overheard, and he slunk away toward home, owing Lammy a double grudge, and the sounds of shouts of merriment and the splashing of water did not tend to cool his wrath.
As for Lammy, he sat on the edge of the rock, trailing his brown toes in the water in the seventh heaven of content; for he was to help carry those mysterious instruments about for a whole month, and go in and out of the Summer School camp, knowing what was said and done there, instead of gazing at it across the fields. Then, too, perhaps he might some day meet Mr. Clarke, and possibly, though it was a daring thought, get leave to go into the mysterious building in his locomotive works at Northboro that bore the sign “Strictly Private—No Admittance.”
Bird and he had often talked of such a possibility. How glad she would be to know! He would write to her all about it.
He did, but had no reply; for the letter reached Bird at one of the times when her uncle was away. Billy had been suffering more than usual, and his mother was consequently very cross and difficult to bear with. Bird put the letter by to answer “to-morrow”; but every day bore its own burden, and the days piled up into weeks.