“Your brother, hey?” said Spotty, taking the thin hand Jerry held forth. “Say, what’s the matter with his blinkers? They look awful funny.”
“He’s blind,” explained Ben in a low tone.
“Sho! Can’t see nothin’? Jerusalem! that’s tough. Can’t he really see nothin’ at all?”
“As far as sight is concerned, he can’t distinguish daylight from darkness.”
“Whew!” breathed Spotty, sitting down and staring at Jerry. “I never see nobody like that before. You never told me about him, Ben; you’ve never said much of anything about your folks.”
“I thought possibly you had heard some stories from Bern Hayden.”
“Well, not much; he just sorter knocked you, and I s’posed that was ’cause he was sore on you. Say, I guess you proved that you could play football yesterday. Bern didn’t have much on you in that game. Wasn’t it tough I got knocked out? Them fellers kind of picked me out and soaked me. They’ve always had a grudge against me, them Clearporters. Last time I played baseball against them Harry Hutt spiked me, and that put me out of the game, too. Eliot he was mad, ’cause he said I wasn’t hurt so bad I couldn’t play; and I s’pose he was mad yesterday, too. He’s awful stiff-necked sometimes; but you certainly got on his soft side through what you done for his sister, and I guess he’d back you up in anything. He brought Hayden to terms all right when Bern tried to force you off the team by gettin’ the fellers to quit. I wish you’d heard a few things Bern had to say yesterday ’cause Roger invited you to ride home in the automobile.”
“I’m decidedly glad I didn’t hear them,” returned Ben. “All I ask is that Bern Hayden keeps away from me and lets me alone.”
“He didn’t like it much when some of the fellers said we couldn’t ever won that game only for you. That was a hard pill for him to swaller. He’s always used me all right, in a way, though I know he thinks he’s better’n I am ’cause his father’s got the dough. I don’t think it’s right, either, for some folks to have so much money and other folks to have so little. Now there’s lots of things I’d like if I only had the chink to buy ’em. Look a’ the rotten old fishin’ tackle I’ve got in that bo’t; if I had money I’d buy an elegant jointed rod, a triple action reel, a silk line, and any amount of hooks and flies and baits. How long is your brother goin’ to stay?” Spotty concluded suddenly with that question.
“I—I don’t know about that,” faltered Ben. “We haven’t quite decided. Isn’t it pretty late in the season for fish to bite?” he asked, seeking to turn the drift of conversation.