The making of a man

by W. D. Flatt

Babe, who had boys of his own, was a good judge of boy character, and looking down in Charlie’s face he realized that there was something more in the situation than lay on the surface. Jumbo’s insulting remark had cut like a dagger, and the boy’s face bore a look of pain which at first could not be understood. Babe noted this, and acting on his instinct for protection, dropped his fist like a sledge-hammer in Jumbo’s face and sent him rolling back among the crew.

In an instant the music and singing ceased. It was the lull before the storm. Jumbo gathered himself up and was getting ready to renew the attack when, like a flash, the door opened and in it stood a splendid specimen of manhood. It was Scott, the foreman, who instinctively seemed to have the faculty of arriving in scenes of this kind at the psychological moment. With one leap he was by Kid’s side, and seeing the blood on the lad’s face, he demanded the name of the man who had dealt the blow. Jumbo was no coward, and furthermore he had not intended to injure the lad quite so badly. He faced Scott readily, admitting that he had flung the boot, but protesting strongly against any intention of injury. Scott settled the matter characteristically and definitely by informing the crew that if any of them had not had enough to quiet their nerves for the night he was quite ready to accommodate them outside the camp, adding that men who threw boots about should be taught a lesson. His challenge was not accepted.

In a few moments the lights were ordered out, the crew threw themselves into the bunks and in a few seconds were dead to the world, and would remain so until their call would come at four the next morning.

Something in the lad’s face and in the manliness with which he accepted the situation strongly appealed to the foreman, and linking his arm in Kid’s he led him out of the door and over to his own sleeping quarters. A little later the boy told the foreman why he was looking for work.

“Well, Kid,” came the reply, roughly if kindly, “this is no charity camp, but I know the heart of the boss. We’ll give you a fair chance to earn what you can for the support of your mother and the kids. I’ll put you to work to-morrow, and you can roll in with me in my bunk to-night.”

Scott threw off his outer clothing quickly and was in his bunk in a moment. Kid undressed a little more slowly, and when the foreman looked up in a moment he saw why the lad was waiting. He was kneeling beside his bunk. As he looked at the boy saying his prayers he was forced to acknowledge that in some ways the other was braver than he, since he was not afraid to do his duty as he had been taught. In that moment Kid had won the foreman’s heart.

Long before daylight Scott was up to waken the crew. Kid was sleeping soundly, and since the foreman knew of the long tramp he had had the day before he let him sleep till the breakfast call. After breakfast, in firm but kindly tones, he told Kid he was going to put him on trial, that if he were of the right stuff he would make good.

“Put me at any work you think I can do, sir,” the boy said in return. “Any money I get from your company I want to earn honestly. I couldn’t accept charity from you or your boss while I have hands to work.”

In the woods Kid was glad to be put in the hands of Babe, who was one of the sub-foremen. At first he was naturally very awkward, but proved himself to be a willing hand, and although his hands were soon blistered, every muscle in his body ached, and he felt at times that his back would surely break, he applied himself faithfully and without a grumble. Naturally, as the days went by these conditions were remedied, and in a short time Babe was satisfied that the boy was going to make good. When, at the end of the first month, Scott inquired as to how he liked the work, his answer was: “Fine, sir. This is man’s work, and that is what I wanted to do.” At the time experienced men were receiving twenty-five dollars per month. It is not to be wondered at, therefore, that when Scott gave Kid a time-cheque for twenty dollars for his first month’s work he was delighted. He was glad to think that he was now doing a man’s work and receiving a man’s pay. Of course, the cheque went home to his mother with a letter full of good cheer.

It wasn’t long until Kid, the youngest member of the crew, became a favorite in the camp. He was gifted with a beautiful voice, which was heard when he was at leisure in the forest solitude and at night when he sat in the camp and sang songs of home and mother. At times, too, he was brave enough to sing songs he had learned in church and Sunday school, and these were sung in such a way that, when they brought back early memories to the hardened members of the crew, tears came to the eyes of some of these swarthy men who, too, thought of their mothers and of Sunday-school days. By this time, too, the story of why Kid had been forced to work in the lumber camp had become well known. For a time Jumbo, who had been so drastically treated on the boy’s account on that eventful first night, held aloof; but when he heard the story and realized how the lad must have been stung by his thoughtless remark that night, he walked up to him, offering his hand and saying heartily: