Beyond the Black Stump Read Online Free Page A

have been sick and not told us.”
    “I wouldn’t have done that, Mom.”
    He turned to greet his sister and the children and Sam Rapke, and when that was over he turned to his father again. “Say, Dad, I got this for you when I stopped off in New York.” He handed him the parcel. To his mother he said, “I got your present in one of the bags, Mom.” The barbecue set was unwrapped there and then as they stood by the airport barrier. His father said, “Say, that’s just what we’ve been needing! We built an outdoor barbecue this spring.”
    “I know it, Dad. You wrote and told me.”
    His mother said, “Oh Junior! They’re so
elegant.”
    The few bags were taken from the airplane and wheeled into the baggage room, and they went in to claim them. Carrying his grips they went out to the park. His father said, “I got something for you, son. How long a leave do you get now?”
    “Till September twentieth, Dad.”
    “Good enough. Well, that’s it. There she is.” There were only two cars in the park, a Dodge with a family already getting into it, and a great Lincoln convertible in two-tone blue, with blue upholstery, gleaming and bright. Stanton stared at it.
    “Gee, Dad—not the convertible?” They walked towards it.
    “Yours for your leave, son.”
    “But, Dad, it’s just about new!”
    “Done nine thousand miles. I sold it to Dirk Hronsky last fall.” Dirk Hronsky was the local lumber magnate. “He didn’t like it, didn’t like the power steering. He’s a wee bit heavy-handed driving on an icy road, an’ got himself a couple of skids, and his wife just didn’t care for it. So he traded it in for a new Mercury this spring, only a month or two back, an’ I kept it for your leave.”
    “Gee, Dad, that’s swell of you!” Now that he was home again the schoolboy phrases, half forgotten in his wider life, came tumbling out one after the other.
    His father and Sam Rapke put the suitcase into the trunk and closed it down; they had not allowed Stanton to carry anything. At the huge door of the car his mother said, “Now I’m getting in back while Junior drives us home.”
    He said, “You come up front with Shelley, Mom, and let Dad drive. I’ll get in back.” All his life he had longed for a great modern car like that, but now that it was his he was half afraid of it, unwilling to experiment with it before his family.
    His mother said, “No, Junior. You must drive your own car.”
    He glanced at the floor, devoid of any clutch pedal. “I don’t suppose I know how, Mom. I’ve never driven an automatic shift.” He had left the country before they had come into very general use.
    His mother said, “Why, Junior, even I can drive a car like this. You get right in and drive it!”
    He slipped into the driver’s seat and explored the controls for a minute. His father got in beside him. Very gingerly, bearing in mind the motor of two hundred horsepower, he touched the accelerator. Nothing happened.
    “You got to pour it on, son, to get rolling,” his father said. “Just pour it on.”
    He poured it on, and the big car moved off. He drove it with increasing confidence and delight down the familiar highway to the town, past the well remembered stores and gas stations, across the railroad tracks and into the quiet, shaded streets where all Hazel lived, between Main Street and the High School. He drew up carefully beside the sidewalk opposite his home and stopped the motor. He sat motionless in the driver’s seat for a moment. “She’s certainly a lovely car,” he said quietly, and his parents beamed at his pleasure. He touched one of the stops upon the organ-like console in front of him, and said, “What does this one do, Dad?”
    “Raises the antenna.” He pulled it, and the radio mast grew magically upwards. He pressed it, and the mast sank down again. “Well, what do you know!” breathed the geologist. “I bet she can pick up her heels and go, on a clear run.”
    “Pass anything on the