Читать книгу Lefty Leighton - Percy Keese Fitzhugh - Страница 7

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They were lingering at this and that shop window and now and again would find themselves way behind their scoutmaster and troop. That meant a breathless run, dodging in and out of Broadway’s bustling humanity in order to catch up, for Scoutmaster Corlett was ever on the alert to keep them together.

“Let’s give him a little scare,” said Dillon Brown, when he and Fenton and Lefty had stopped to inspect the very attractive show window of a sporting goods store.

“How?” asked Lefty.

Dillon pointed toward the lobby of an office building next door where a constant stream of people kept the revolving door in perpetual motion. “We’ll keep going around ’till Corlett gets worried and comes back looking for us. We can see him going past and when he does we’ll beat it out and get with the bunch. He’ll get the surprise of his life when he comes back and finds us with them, huh? What do you say?”

Fenton and Lefty fell in with this plan immediately. It seemed to fit in with the spirit of the day and they proceeded to the revolving door without delay, having first made sure that Scoutmaster Corlett was preoccupied with the rest of the troop a little farther up the block. Dillon Brown led the way.

They had circled twice, to the amusement of the many loiterers in the lobby, and had stepped aside to let those who were entering from the street side use the door. Fenton and Dillon watched this influx while Lefty’s eager eyes studied the surging throng out in the street.

It had only been a moment before that he had remarked to Fenton that he had never seen so many people in his life. His eyes were fixed on the crowd—a glimpse of laughing faces that vied with the bright, balmy day, and here and there a shadow emanating from some scowling-faced individual. It was like some passing picture and so intently was he watching it that he knew that the radiant faces of two boys moving through the center of the throng were real and no mere figment of his startled mind.

“Ken! Chilton!” he said in a choked whisper. Instinctively he turned toward his companions, but they were not looking his way at all. Dillon had, at that moment, drawn Fenton’s attention to a midget who was strutting out of the elevator to the right of the lobby. Lefty breathed more freely and stepped through the revolving door impulsively.

On the street he sought those two heads that were so familiar to him and saw them after a moment’s breathless search. They were half a block ahead then, moving peacefully along with the throng. Lefty moved after them determinedly.

He forgot about Fenton and Dillon and Scoutmaster Corlett. Nothing else mattered to him except reaching the two fugitives. Every now and then a halt in the traffic impeded his progress and with a sinking heart he could see them getting farther away. He had to reach them! He must learn the truth for he had staked much of his self-respect in defending Kenneth against his uncle’s insinuations.

“But he is with Chilton all right,” he murmured as he pushed himself forward. “Oh gosh, after I said he wasn’t—after I stuck up for him that he didn’t go with Chilton!”

He sought the two heads again and decided that he was gaining a little. His spirits rose considerably and he told himself that perhaps, after all, they could explain the whole thing satisfactorily. Lots of people were falsely accused and after a period of years were able to clear themselves of unjust charges.

But it wouldn’t be years with Kenneth and Chilton for here they were not a quarter of a block away. The last traffic halt had been in Lefty’s favor for he had gained considerably and he could now see Kenneth’s head jerking in that peculiar way he had when he laughed. It warmed his heart to see it, for he loved his brother deeply.

Now they crossed Forty-Second Street and Broadway, and out of the subway exits in that great cross-street poured a veritable army of human beings. Lefty lost sight of them then and though he strained his eyes in a dizzying effort to discern them among that ant-like mass, he did not see them again.

The poor, distracted boy did not give up hope but rushed in and out among the people without thought or consideration. His eyes were ever ahead and when he reached Fortieth Street without success, he turned back and searched each side street as thoroughly as he could, but was doomed to disappointment.

“Maybe they went in the subway that time,” he said, hopelessly, as he recrossed Forty-Second Street. “Maybe—gosh!”

His eye lighted on a jeweler’s clock farther up the street and he was shocked to see the two great hands within a minute of the noon hour. The train had gone! Kenneth and Chilton had gone! And his troop and scoutmaster—what were they thinking?

He stood on the curb not knowing what to do. He seemed for a moment to be unable to think clearly. His eyes roved restlessly from one passing face to another until suddenly he decided upon a perfectly natural course of action, considering his age, and that was to buy himself something to eat.

He moved back along Broadway until he espied an orangeade stand at which he bought two glasses of the luscious, cold, golden-colored beverage and two hot dogs. After consuming these he treated himself to two bars of milk chocolate and while his mind was quite miserable with thoughts of Kenneth, his boy’s self gloried in the unexpected freedom that chance had given him. It was worth a little misery of mind to be alone on Broadway and feast on hot dogs and orangeade.

Before leaving the refreshment stand, he counted the money he had in his pocket. His board at Donellen Camp was already paid for the entire summer season and his aunt was holding back twenty-five dollars for him in the event that he might need more before he returned. Yes, he could afford one more luxury, he decided, and still have enough left for spending money during the many weeks to come.

So he stepped out to the curb and, hailing a passing cab, tried hard to sound brave and sophisticated as he ordered the driver to take him to the Grand Central Station.