Danny Orlis Goes to School (8 page)

That first time he had tried to talk with Larry about Christ, his cousin had made fun of him until Danny hardly ever said anything about accepting Jesus as his Saviour until that awful night on the mountain. The thought stabbed the young woodsman like a knife. He really hadn't done much of anything to try to win Larry for Christ.

Short, slender Jack Anderson came up to Danny when he stepped into the gym and said softly, "Say, Danny, come over here a minute."

Together they walked off to one corner of the big basketball court.

"Is Larry in trouble because of that broadcasting over at his house night before last?"

Danny nodded without speaking.

"I was afraid of that," Jack answered. His face had gone a sickly white.

For a moment Danny did not understand. Then he remembered! Jack had been one of the guys who had been broadcasting too!

"Are they going to send him to the reform school?"

"I don't know," Danny replied seriously.

For an instant the smaller boy looked into Danny's eyes, pleading. "You won't tell them that I was in on it, will you, Danny?" he asked.

"If they ask me, Jack," he said softly, "I'll have to tell them the truth."

Somehow Danny got through the rest of the morning. Larry still didn't show up in any of his classes, and by noon the whole school was buzzing. Danny could hear it everywhere he went.

"Hi," Glen said, coming up to him shortly after the noon bell sounded. "Going home now?"

"I think I'll wait for Larry."

"I've been praying for him all morning," Glen said. Danny smiled at his Christian friend.

They only had an hour for lunch at high school, but Danny lingered in the halls until he thought most of the guys had gone on. However, a dozen or so swarmed around him the instant he came out the door. For five minutes or so they crowded around, plying him with questions. Danny didn't lie to them, but he didn't tell them anything about Larry either.

As they talked, he remembered the tracts that were lying in his pocket and began to finger them. His heart began to pound faster as he pulled one out of his pocket.

"What have you got there?" Chet demanded.

"Here," Danny tossed it to him.

Chet caught it gingerly.

Danny tossed one to each of the guys.

"I don't think you're going to get me to open this thing," one of them said, laughing. "I'm afraid it'll go off. Is it dynamite, Danny?"

"Could be," the young woodsman replied.

For a full minute the guys fingered their tracts before one of them opened his and began to read. The smile left his face, and for an instant it seemed to Danny that his cheeks went white. By this time the other guys had their tracts open and were reading too.

Nobody moved or said a word until Larry came out of the school white-faced and trembling and took hold of Danny's arm. Silently the gang melted away.

"They're going to send me away," Larry almost whispered when everyone else was gone.

Danny did not answer him.

"You're the only one who can save me, Danny," Larry went on.

"What can I do?"

"Clarence told the others that they could believe what you told them, Danny," Larry went on tensely. "If you just tell them that it wasn't me running the radio transmitter, they'll believe you. Then I won't have to go to the reformatory!"

“
Larry's always getting into some kind of trouble.”

DYNAMITE DAN

L
ARRY
gulped hard, and for an instant that wild, trapped look flickered in his eyes.

"You didn't
really
see me at the transmitter, did you?" he asked with frantic eagerness.

"You were running it when I saw you," Danny answered reluctantly.

"But you couldn't be sure enough to testify on the witness stand, could you?" his cousin persisted. "I wasn't
really
running it. It was my transmitter, but I wasn't running it. The fact is, I kept telling them that they shouldn't."

"I heard you through the door," Danny went on miserably. "And when one of the guys opened it to come out, I saw you sitting with one hand on the set and the other holding the mike. I'd have to testify that you were operating it, Larry."

"But you don't
need
to tell them all that, do you?" he blurted, his voice rising angrily. "If you don't, I'm—" He choked until he could not speak. For almost a minute he chewed on his lip, fighting to keep back the tears. Finally he was able to speak again. "I'll go to the reformatory! That's what'll happen!"

Danny could feel a lump growing in his own throat. He swallowed hard.

"And, Danny," Larry exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, "you're the only one who can do anything about it!"

"I can't lie for you, Larry," the young woodsman said slowly.

"Sending me to the reformatory won't do anybody any good," his cousin said. "It won't help those people who got hurt when the plane was wrecked." He paused for a moment. "Look at all the harm it would do to Mom and Dad and me. And, Danny, I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Honestly I didn't."

"I'm sure of that," Danny agreed. "Jimmy and I almost got into the same sort of mess back on the Angle."

Larry grasped the young woodsman by both shoulders. "Then you will help me?" he pleaded.

"I don't know," Danny said slowly. "I just don't know."

All afternoon Danny could think of little else. What Larry said was true. Telling on him wouldn't help anybody. It would only make more trouble. The young woodsman sighed deeply and picked up his history book, but the words ran together, and the page blurred.

Perhaps he could tell Larry that he would do as he had asked him if his cousin would promise to go to church and Sunday school and youth group every week for the rest of the year. Perhaps he could win Larry's confidence that way. And yet—the problem tumbled endlessly through his mind.

Chet Bryson passed by Danny's desk just then, a twisted smirk on his face.

"Hello, Dynamite Dan," he said, "have you blown anybody up with those bombs of yours?" He jerked his finger toward two or three tracts that were sticking out of Danny's pocket.

"I'm praying that something will happen."

"Well, don't pray for me," Chet snapped.

The other guys took up Chet's new name for the young woodsman, and by the time they went racing down to the locker room to dress for the first baseball practice of the season, everyone was calling him "Dynamite Dan."

"Preach us a sermon, Dynamite," one guy called loudly.

Danny got slowly to his feet. He could feel the color flooding his cheeks, but his voice was clear and firm.

"I don't know anything about preaching a sermon," he said evenly, "but I'd certainly like to tell you what Jesus means to me and what He can mean to you."

A hush descended over the locker room.

The coach called from the doorway, "Come on, you guys; snap it up."

As they trotted onto the field, a senior jogged up beside Danny.

"That's the stuff, kid," he said approvingly. "Don't be afraid to stand up for what you believe."

That night when Danny got home, his cousin called him into his room. "Man, have I got some news!" he exclaimed happily.

"You mean you're not going to have to go to trial?"

"It's almost that good," Larry went on. "Dad went to see Joe and his dad today. We're going to pay the hospital bill for them, and Joe isn't going to say anything about me running the transmitter."

"You...you mean you're going to buy him off?" the young woodsman asked.

"Oh, no," Larry said quickly. "They practically offered to help us out. We're just paying the bill as a favor."

"What about the other kids who were there?" Danny asked lamely. He felt a little sick inside. "Won't they tell on you?"

Larry shook his head. "They know what's good for them," he said. "They're just glad that Clarence hasn't rounded them up yet." For the first time he smiled a little. "It isn't them I'm worried about, Danny. If you'd just help me out now, everything would be all right."

Danny shook his head uncertainly.

That night he dropped to his knees at the side of the bed and began to pray that the Lord would guide him. But there didn't seem to be any help for him, even there.

The next morning when he went to school, he was just as miserable, just as uncertain of what he should do.

Somehow he got through the afternoon classes and baseball practice that followed. Every moment had been torture, but there was youth group that night. It was strange how much going to church and praying meant at a time like this.

After supper, when Danny was in his room dressing for the meeting, his cousin came down and knocked on his door.

"I think I'll go along with you, Danny," he said.

Perhaps this was the time when Larry would see that he needed a Saviour. Perhaps tonight? There was a prayer in the young woodsman's heart as he and his cousin walked to church together.

The meeting seemed to be planned just for Larry. The testimonies were better than usual, and the message hit sledgehammer blows at sin. When the invitation was given, Danny could feel his cousin's shoulder quiver as they stood together.

"Wouldn't you like to go forward?" Danny whispered hopefully.

But Larry shook his head. "I want to talk to you first."

As the two boys started out the door together, someone touched the young woodsman on the shoulder. He stopped and turned quickly to see Eric Tanner and Peggy Denton standing there. They were both juniors at school and had never been to youth group before.

"Could we talk to you, Danny?" Eric asked.

"I...I don't know," Danny hesitated, looking desperately at Larry who was already moving away. He had hoped to talk with him more about the Lord.

"It's awfully important," Peggy said, her blue eyes serious and pleading.

While the young woodsman stood there helplessly, his cousin disappeared out the door.

DANNY'S PROMISE

I
T
was easy to see that something was wrong with Eric Tanner and Peggy Denton. Her deep blue eyes were large and luminous, and she looked as though she could start to cry at any moment. Eric was staring at her awkwardly.

"I've got to talk to you, Danny," Peggy repeated.

"Sure thing," Danny answered.

"Let's go some place where we can talk," Peggy went on.

"We can go over to the drugstore and sit in one of the booths," Eric suggested lamely.

The three of them walked up the next block and across the street to the drugstore where most of the kids congregated. Nobody spoke until after they had found a booth and ordered something cold to drink.

"I...I want to ask you about this," Peggy said softly at last, leaning forward and handing him a crumpled tract. He saw in an instant that it was one of those that he had handed out at school. "What does it mean?"

"I tried to tell you that it doesn't mean anything, Peg," Eric broke in irritably. "It's a lot of malarkey. I'd never have showed it to you if I'd thought you were going to make such a fuss about it."

But she acted as though she hadn't even heard him. "You gave it to Eric yesterday," she explained. "And he showed it to me. I haven't been able to get my mind on anything else since. "

Danny picked up the tract and fingered it, praying for the right words to say.

"Well," the young woodsman said slowly, "when we're born into this world, we're born with a sinful nature, according to the Bible. But when we see that we're sinners and need a Saviour and put our trust in Jesus for salvation, then we're born again. We really and truly become children of God."

Peggy looked at him blankly.

"It doesn't mean a thing, Peg," Eric put in angrily.

"It's this way," Danny went on. "The Bible tells us that we 'all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God'!" Quickly he turned to the verse in his New Testament and let her read for herself.

"I know that we all do things that we shouldn't," she admitted, "but we try to live the best we can. Isn't that good enough?"

"The Bible tells us that it isn't," he countered. He turned to another verse. "Now if the wages of sin is death," he said, "and we've all sinned, then we've all earned death, haven't we? That's the price we have to pay for the wicked things we've done."

"I...I suppose so," she said hesitantly. Her lips began to tremble.

"That's why Jesus came into the world," Danny continued, "and died on the cross and arose again. 'For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.'" Danny was silent for a moment. "That was for you and for me, Peggy, so that we wouldn't have to accept the payment of death for our sins."

Peggy sat there for a long while, staring down into the untouched cold drink on the table in front of her. Then, without warning, she began to cry. Danny had seen people cry before, but never as Peggy was doing now. Tears flowed down her cheeks. Her whole body trembled, and she sobbed until the kids three booths away turned to stare at her.