Patrick, Charlie and Andrew are now together in a ward with two other boys recovering from appendicitis. More than a month has passed since the accident. A weight hangs from Patrick’s bed, fastened to the traction on his leg. His two friends, more able-bodied, get up each day, but owing to the gravity of their head injuries, they have to stay some time longer in the hospital.
The confinement seems very long to these boys, pining for the open air and liberty, and the nurse finds it hard work to curb their restless spirits!
It is visiting day, but Patrick does not expect anyone. He knows that his mother is working, as usual; it is only in the evening that she hurries in to ask how he is. Carol is preparing for her literature exam; she has given up coming to see him.
Charlie’s and Andrew’s stepmother has made only one appearance; she loaded them with reproaches, so they scarcely want her to come. As for their father, he comes from time to time without his wife’s knowledge, and seems glad to be free to show them his affection. The other two boys are asleep. Charlie and Andrew are absorbed in an adventure story. Pat is daydreaming. He thinks of his father, so far away, no one knows where, since the telegram brought no response. He reads over Cyril’s letter, received this morning in secret writing: “Think of me tomorrow; I am planning to escape. I can’t stand it any longer. Cost what it may, I shall get away if I can. Bob is too big a coward to try it. J. O. S.”
Patrick thinks of the gang, of its dispersed members, of its pitiful end.
A door opens silently; anxious eyes wander round the large ward - “John!”
“Patrick!” A wave of shyness sweeps away further speech. Patrick, suddenly struck by John’s resemblance to his father, felt his old antipathy melt away. John grasped his schoolmate’s hand. Is it really the same boy, so pale and wasted, with big hollow eyes? His father had certainly spoken of a great change in Patrick. Feeling embarrassed, he stood fidgeting with the string of a parcel which he held awkwardly under his arm, wondering what to say.
“You’re getting better, aren’t you?” he murmured doubtfully.
“Oh, yes, I should have left here by now if it were not for my leg, which has to be stretched.”
“You must be awfully bored. What do you do all day?”
“I read, and then I chat with the others. The time passes slowly but it does pass! I have been here two months already.”
“I’ve brought you an airplane to put together,” said John, putting his parcel into Patrick’s hands, after pulling off the string.
“An airplane kit!” Patrick flushed with pleasure; but suddenly his face clouded.
“You ought not to bring me anything. I’ve been horrid to you. Take it back, please.”
“Don’t insult me by refusing the present which means the end of hostilities between us,” said John, laughing. “Besides, I’m longing to help make the airplane. I’ve brought the glue and paints. Let’s get on with it before Dad comes.”
Both boys laughed happily and all restraint vanished. They examined the contents of the box, and while assembling the parts their tongues loosened, and John gave Patrick all the school news. Absorbed in making the airplane they did not hear the door open; the tall form of Philip Berger appearing at the foot of the bed made them jump.
“Well, Patrick! I find you in good company today. You will scarcely need my visits now you are no longer in solitary confinement.”
“Yes, I do! Sit down near me and stay awhile,” cried Patrick, leaving the airplane to John. “Tell me about Ralph.”
“He is in the car outside. I explained to him that I was going to see you, and I do believe he understood, the rascal, for he made such pleading eyes.”
“Good old Ralph! It was he who discovered us first! But how he hurt me in trying to show his affection!”
“I have often thought about you boys since that fateful night when I found you in the snow,” said Philip gravely, looking at the three boys side by side in their beds.
“I can’t remember anything of it,” said Charlie. “Nor can I,” put in Andrew. “I believe I woke up a week later.”
“Nevertheless, I carried you in my arms like two babies. I kept asking myself if you still lived, you were so white and cold.
“Whatever made you think of this escapade?” asked John, curiously.
“Just for fun,” said Andrew. “We all wanted something exciting to do, because it was so boring at home.”
“How did you get to know each other?” asked Philip.
“Through the club,” answered Charlie, thoughtlessly.
“What club?”
Andrew and Patrick threw reproachful looks at Charlie and seemed much embarrassed.
“We had formed a club between us,” said Patrick at last, but it is a secret.”
“This club must have had a purpose. What? The happiness of other people?” asked Philip, with a twinkle in his eye.
“The purpose? It was to amuse ourselves,” said Charlie; “sometimes at the expense of others, certainly! It was the only time we could let ourselves go, and hang together, come what might.”
“I understand your longing for adventure,” said Philip; “but you have followed the wrong track.”
“If we form a new club, you could be our chief!” burst out Patrick on a sudden impulse.
“Cyril would call us deserters when he comes back, and he’d have reason,” said Andrew.
“If he is willing to join us, all the better,” rejoined Patrick.
“I’ll enroll in advance, if you’ll have me,” cried John.
“But what should we do?” asked Charlie, undecidedly; “nothing secret, no practical jokes - just play the young saint! That doesn’t appeal to me.”
“Do you think that one enjoys life less when his conscience is at ease?” asked Philip.
“What we liked was the mystery and adventures,” said Patrick. “School life is so monotonous.”
“I understand. I, too, love activity and adventure; but I don’t know if you’re right to choose me for leader. I am so busy, there’s always so much work at the farm.”
“Never mind the work!” cried Patrick in a decided tone; “we must have an older chief, since we are so stupid; and there’s no one but you.”
“What’s the good of remaking a club without Cyril and Simon?” said Andrew disconsolately. “Whatever could we do that’s interesting?”
“There would certainly be some exciting things to undertake,” said Philip; “it’s not that which troubles me. Explore caves, build a hut, construct a car!”
Andrew and Charlie sat up in bed, their eyes sparkling. Only Patrick seemed unimpressed.
“Well, Patrick, this program doesn’t seem to your taste?”
“Just the opposite, but - couldn’t we do something to earn some money?”
“Why?”
“To pay Mr. Mollett back for his van.”
“You are right. I’ll think about that,” said Philip gladly.
“The Youth Workers Group, once set going, will hold their meetings at my home at the farm, and we’ll see how to solve your difficulties.”
At this moment a sharp cry resounded from the passage, a terrific commotion, a crash of breaking china; then a loud scratching at the door which burst open - and in came Ralph! Defying orders and training, the faithful dog had succeeded in penetrating into the hospital, and having succeeded in finding his young master, started licking his face and hands as hard as he could. The boys exploded with laughter and applause, and Patrick smoothed the great head and looked into the glowing eyes of his loyal old playfellow.
But suddenly the ward sister, her cap on one side, thrust her indignant head in at the half open door.
“Whatever next?” she cried; “a dog in the hospital? Such a thing has never happened before! Turn out that ugly beast at once, or look out for yourself!”
Philip laid hold of Ralph, who, with forepaws on Patrick’s bed, was extremely reluctant to cut short his visit.
“See, Ralph,” said Patrick; “here’s a lump of sugar! Now make yourself scarce, or we shall have a bad quarter of an hour.”
Philip hurriedly made his escape, holding the dog’s collar firmly. Andrew and Charlie, with noses glued to the window, watched their departure, shouting joyfully: “Long live Ralph and the Youth Workers Group!”