From the office he made his way across toward the stone-walled dock where lay the Pequot Queen. Once he paused, turned, and sent his gaze to the great mass of rock that arose precipitately from beyond the littered floor of the quarry. He couldn’t see the tiny ledge that had saved his life yesterday, but there, looking very small from down here, was the leaning tree, and he measured the distance to the rock-strewn ground beneath and shuddered. He was still gazing when there was a dull concussion and a cloud of gray dust, and a great pile of rock slid down the face. The little locomotive tooted and came rocking toward the railway, dragging a flat-car loaded with two great squares of rock. On the farther side of the small dock a lighter was being loaded, a big boom swinging from cars to deck to the music of a puffing engine and the shrill piping of a whistle. Laurie continued his way to the Pequot Queen.
A few years before the boat had been used in the ferry service between Orstead and Hamlin, across the river. Then the business failed to show a profit, the company was dissolved, and the Pequot Queen was pushed into the quarry company’s dock—without permission, if rumor was to be credited—and left to rot. She was about fifty feet long and very broad of beam. The stern was occupied by a cabin with many windows, a few of which were still unbroken. Amidships, if one may apply the term to a launch, was a small engine-room in which a rusted upright engine still stood amid a litter of coal-dust. A door led to a smaller compartment, the wheel-house. Between that and the bow was a space for luggage and freight. The Pequot Queen had not carried vehicles.
At one time the boat had doubtless shone resplendent in white paint and gold-leaf. Now there were few traces of either remaining. The name was still legible on each side of the bow, however, in faded black. Through the roof a rusty smoke-stack pushed its way to lean perilously to starboard. Atop the cabin, reached by a narrow companion, benches inside a pipe-railing had afforded accommodation for passengers in fine weather. The boat was secured fore and aft with frayed hawsers, and her rail lay close to the wall. Laurie viewed her speculatively from stem to stern and then stepped aboard. Had there been any one about to observe him they might have thought that here was a possible purchaser, for he went over the boat completely and exhaustively, giving, however, most of his time to the cabin. In the end he went ashore and once more viewed the derelict in frowning speculation. There was no doubt that the Pequot Queen had outlived her use as a water-craft. She still floated and would probably continue to float for many years yet, but old age had claimed her, as rotting timbers and yawning seams showed. Yet Laurie, whether or not he was a prospective purchaser, turned away at last with an expression of thoughtful satisfaction on his countenance.
Back by the railroad, he stopped and viewed his surroundings intently. On one side lay the bridge, with the Basin beyond and to the left, and the big quarry to his right. On the other side was the company office and shed, the dock and pier, the latter piled high with roughly-squared blocks of stone. Toward town the river’s margin was unoccupied for a space, and then came the coal-wharves and the lumber company’s frontage. It was a noisy and dust-laden spot in which the Pequot Queen had been left to pass her declining years, and Laurie shook his head slowly as though the realization of the fact displeased him. Finally he crossed the bridge again, hurrying a little in order not to compete for passage with a slow-moving freight from the north, and continued along the river-front until he had passed the station and the warehouses across the track and was again allowed a view of the stream unimpeded by buildings. Here there was no wall along the river, but now and then the remains of an ancient wooden bulkhead still stood between the dusty road and the lapping water. Here and there, too, a rotted hulk lay careened or showed naked ribs above the surface further out. Across the road hardly more than a lane now, a few dejected but respectable dwellings stood behind their tiny front yards. Behind them the hill sloped upward less abruptly than farther back and was thickly clustered with unpretentious houses wherein the industrious foreign-born citizens of Orstead lived. Compared to the vicinity of the quarry, however, this section of town was clean and quiet. There were trees here, and later on there would be grass along the unfrequented road and flowers in the little gardens. Westward lay the sunlit river and the wooded shore beyond. Laurie nodded approvingly more than once as he dawdled along, paying, as it appeared, special attention to the margin of the stream. Finally, more than an hour after he had left school, he retraced his steps as far as Ash Street and turned uphill.
Ash Street was two blocks north of Walnut and, having an easier grade to climb, was less devious in its journey. It brought Laurie at length to Summit Street a short block from the little white house from which Miss Comfort had lately removed. As he passed it Laurie observed that so far no vandal hand had been laid on it. The brown shutters were closed at the down-stairs windows, and the buds on the lilac-bushes were swelling fast. Somehow these two facts, apparently unrelated, combined to bring a little pang of sadness to the observer. He went on, with only a glance down Pine Street to the blue shop, and entered the side gate of the Coventry place.
CHAPTER XIV
A PERFECTLY GORGEOUS IDEA
Ned and Bob were watching Thomas, the man-of-all-work, rolling the cinder surface of the new tennis-court. Theirs was a pleasant occupation for such a morning, and Laurie joined them where they sat on a pile of posts and boards that had once been a grape-arbor and that had been removed to make way for the court.
“What happened to you?” asked Ned. “Thought maybe they’d had you arrested. Bob and I were just talking of pooling our resources and bailing you out.”
“I found I had nearly ninety cents,” said Bob proudly.