W. A. G.'s Tale Part 5

It stood a long way from the house, and on a little hill. By and by the thunder and lightning got quieter, but the rain made it dark, and I said, "Oh, George, let's go. It's too dark to see in here anyway." But George wouldn't go until he had finished his game, and when the other boys said, "It's too dark to play knife any more," George said, "Let's play robber's cave. I got something in my pocket will make it light." He took out a box of matches and a candle-end, and said, "Let's stick it up yere, and then play robbers. This'll be the den"; and he put the candle into the neck of an old bottle.

I said, "Oh, George, Aunty Edith doesn't let you have matches." George said, "Look yere, these matches was give me to-day, and this ain't Miss Edith's barn. If these young gemmun is willing to play in their father's barn with a candle, you ain't got no call to say anything, has yer?" And the boys said, "Aw, it's all right. Come on. William ain't yer boss.

He's nothing but a kid anyway."

Well, that made me mad, and I wouldn't play robbers with them, and I slid down to the barn floor, and went to the door, and looked out to see if it was getting any lighter. But George, he put on a terrible look, and began to say, "I'm the King of the Robbers, who's this yere a-peekin' and a-spyin' in my den?" Then Sam called out, "It's me. I'm the King of the Pirates, and I've come to take ye bound hand and foot to my s.h.i.+p. Stand by, men!" "Men" was his brother Charlie, and they made a dash at George. He danced and flew at them with a stick and called to me to come and be his man and help him fight 'em off.

I was just running to do it, for it looked like pretty good fun, and the rain was pretty hard, when somebody knocked the bottle with their foot, and over it went into a heap of straw, and before the boys could race back and put it out, the hay was on fire.

Oh, dear! I hope I never see anything like that again. We boys were so scared at first, we couldn't move, and then, with a yell, the Crosscup boys ran to tell their father, with me and George after them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: We all worked with hose and everything.]

We only ran a little ways toward the other barn, and then we found an old bucket, and George yelled to me to get a bit of rope, and we lowered it into the ca.n.a.l and ran back to throw the water on the fire.

But it was too little, and the fire was too big.

Farmer Crosscup came running with his hired man, and we all worked with hose and everything, but the barn burned, all but the north wall, and so fast that though George and I ran and ran for help, and though Mrs.

Crosscup telephoned to town for engines, it was through burning before they got up.

After this, George had to go. Aunty Edith got him sent to a place for colored children, where he could have fresh air, and some one to look after him, but he had to go away from East Penniwell. The farmers said he was "dangerous." I was sorry and Aunty May was sorry, too, but it couldn't be helped. George was sorry, too, but at the last minute he leaned from the wagon and whispered to me, "Anyway, I done proved dat dere old fire engine wuz too slow."

CHAPTER VII

LEFT ALONE

After George went away, it seemed very quiet on the towpath. It grew warmer and warmer, and the cherries got ripe and were picked, and I climbed trees and played more, and had fewer lessons, because it was so hot, and the little Turner girls came down to play with me sometimes, because school was out. I went up and played with them sometimes, but not often unless the launch came down, because it was a long way to walk in the hot sun.

Mr. Taylor and me used to sit on his back porch, where it was cool, and tell one another stories.

He told me some fine ones about the war, and when he was a boy. More things seemed to happen to boys then than they do now, and I told him so, and he laughed and said that was only because he was seventy-three and remembered about them. He said that when I was seventy-three, "some little feller'll think the same thing when you tell him about the fust airs.h.i.+p and things like that."

I laughed at me ever being seventy-three, but I suppose I will some day.

The only fun we had before the letter came was early that very morning, when Aunty May was sitting reading some clippings her editor had sent her, with her back to the little cupboard I told about, that was made out of an old window.

I came down the stairs from my room and stood looking at her, wis.h.i.+ng she'd look up so I could interrupt. But she didn't and I stood there just as quiet for a minute, and wondering why I suddenly thought about the pictures in my book on India. Then I heard a little rustle, and I knew. Just above Aunty May's head, uncoiling itself from round a pile of plates in the corner, was a big black and yellow snake.

I called out, "Hey, Aunty May! Quick! There's a snake behind you!" And she looked up and said, "Billy, I'm not in the mood for playing."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Auntie May got a hatchet and made a chop at the snake]

I said, "Oh, Aunty, I'm not fooling. Quick, or it will land on your head"; and she turned round and looked right at the snake and it looked at her, and Aunty May gave a scream, and jumped away, and the snake dropped down on the floor and commenced to wiggle behind the couch.

Then I tell you there was some fun. Aunty Edith came down just as Aunty May got a hatchet and made a chop at the snake, but she never touched it, and Aunty Edith wouldn't let me go behind the couch after him.

Mr. Taylor, who was coming along the towpath from the village (he brought us the mail every morning), came down and asked, "What's up, young feller? I heerd the wimminfolk screeching. What ye been up to?"

I told him I hadn't done anything. It was a snake. Then Mr. Taylor and me pulled out the couch, but he wasn't there. We poked sticks behind the pantry, but couldn't find him.

There was a big hole in the cement there, and Mr. Taylor said, "Sho, the poor snake was more frightened than ye was, Miss May, and it's likely he's down the river-bank by now." Then Aunty May and me told him how big it was and what color, and he said, "I knew a couple of wimmin kept a milk snake in their dairy for a pet. Maybe this feller wants pettin'."

Aunty May said he'd never get it from her, and she took a piece of tin and a hammer and tacks and went to close up the hole, but Mr. Taylor said, "Wait a minute, Miss May"; and he whispered to her, "Stand by a minute. There's a letter here from the War Department to Miss Edith, and I'm doubting it's being the best of news."

Well, poor Aunty May turned so white and sat down so quickly with her face in her hands, that Aunty Edith, who came in the room just then from putting the axe away in the shed, said, "Why, May, did the snake frighten you as much as that?" Aunty May didn't answer. She just clutched Mr. Taylor and said, "Where is it?" Then Mr. Taylor looked at her and at Aunt Edith, and said "Sho" once or twice, and then he pulled out of his pocket a long envelope, and put it in Aunty Edith's hands.

She sat down very quick, and tried to open it, but her hands shook so that she couldn't. Aunty May took it from her and tore it open, and they both leaned over and read it. Then Aunty Edith cried so for a while she couldn't tell us anything, but at last Aunty May took my hand and we went out on the porch, and she told us that Uncle Burt had got hurt in a little fight--not a real battle, a "skirmish" with some natives, and he was to be sent home on sick-leave.

Then she and Mr. Taylor talked about what the letter said, and he shook his head, and told her it looked like a bad job to him. Aunty May told me to go over and sit with Mr. Taylor while she talked with Aunty Edith.

Mr. Taylor and me sat there, not very happy, because I was thinking of Uncle Burt, and somehow I couldn't make him sick or hurt, he was so big and so very strong.

I said that to Mr. Taylor, and he said, "Them there guns don't care how big and strong a man is, they picks 'em down. They're cruel things, boy, firearms is. Don't you ever go a-monkeying with them, mind that." I said I wouldn't.

We sat there so quiet that we could hear the Aunties talking, and Aunty Edith crying every now and then, in the house. Aunty May wasn't crying, but she seemed quite angry about something. I could hear her say, "You shall take it, Edith, and you shall do as I say, or I'll throw it into the ca.n.a.l." Then again, "What is the money to me if--" And then Aunty May began to cry and Aunty Edith began to be soothing to her, and the more she soothed the harder Aunty May cried, till I heard Aunty Edith say, "All right, May, dear. I promise I'll do it, if you'll only stop crying."

Aunty May stopped right away, and presently she came out, and her eyes were red, but her mouth was smiling, like it always does when she gets what she wants.

She came and sat down by Mr. Taylor and me, while Aunty Edith went up to write out telegrams and letters, and told me that Aunty Edith was going out to bring Uncle Burt home, and that she was going with her as far as San Francisco; that while they were gone I was to stay at the Turners', for she thought they would look after me for her, and would I be a good boy until she came back?

I promised I would, but, oh, I felt awful, and I begged her to take me with her, but she said she couldn't because Aunty Edith was so tired and sorry, and she would have to look after her all the time, and I must stay at home and be good and wait. She would come back for me, in a little while, and we'd wait together for Uncle Burt.

So as long as Mr. Taylor sat there looking at me with his winky blue eyes, I didn't dare howl or anything, but my! I did feel like it. So I just said, "Yes, 'm, Aunty May, I'll be good." She kissed me right before him. It was a little mean of her, but he looked the other way and said, "Shoo, Teddy."

Then Aunty May said, "There isn't a minute to be lost, Billy, so come in and pack your box, while I go across to the farmhouse and call the Turners up on the 'phone."

I went into the house, where Aunty Edith was very quiet and packing very hard; and I packed the big suitcase with some of my things, for Aunty Edith said I could always get in the house and get the rest of them any time.

Presently Aunty May came back and said, "It's all right. They are dears. They are coming down for Billy, right away, and they'll take you and me to the train. Do you think you can do it, Edith? We've just an hour." Aunty Edith said, "Of course I can."

And then you never saw such a packing time. It made me so dizzy watching those two Aunties fly around, that presently I went outside, and sat with Mr. Taylor, who was on the front step, "Waiting orders," he said; and didn't we just get them, though!

When Aunty Edith called, "Billy, the tags, please," didn't I just run!

and when Aunty May said, "Mr. Taylor, will you please help me with this window?" he jumped around as though he was seventeen instead of seventy-three.

By and by the launch came down, but a little late, so it was decided that I was to wait with Mr. Taylor until they took the Aunties to the train; and they'd get me on the way back.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I believed they had really gone away, and left me all alone]

After a few minutes the trunks were in the launch, the house was locked and Mr. Taylor had the key. The Aunties kissed me good-bye, and Aunty Edith promised to tell Uncle Burt I was a good boy, and Aunty May said she'd come back for me as soon as she could--and they shook hands with Mr. Taylor and he said, "Sho, I gotter feed them Teddy-cats," and went down the steps. Then they got into the launch and went off, and I waved at them as long as I could see them; and then I sat down by the ca.n.a.l bank and felt as if I couldn't bear it, for it wasn't till then I believed they had really gone away and left me all alone.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VIII