Trading Jeff and his Dog Part 28

"Oh, boy!"

Dan whooped from his chair. With Pal bustling at his heels, he ran out to the garden. He loved to fish, his father had taught him how to catch trout, and Granny's accustomed tackle, a hook and line tied to a willow pole, hung over the door. In the spring's damp overflow Dan grubbed until he had filled his pocket with fat worms. Then he s.n.a.t.c.hed the pole from over the doorway and raced down to the little stream that from the hilltop wound like a silver ribbon through the forest.

He strung a worm on his hook, crawled cautiously up to a pool and dropped the worm gently, watching with bated breath the ripples that spread. A trout surged from the depths, struck viciously, and Dan drew his wriggling catch in. Deftly he slipped it onto a willow stringer.

Stringer in one hand, pole in the other, he sneaked up to another pool and caught another trout. Mindful of the pies Granny was making, he decided that he needed no more than two trout for himself because his appet.i.te must be saved for more important things. Granny might eat three. Dan had four trout on his stringer when Pal growled.

Hackles raised, ears alert, nose questing, he peered up-stream. Dan stopped, not knowing what was coming but sure that Pal wouldn't growl for no reason. Dragging the dog with him, the boy slipped into the brush and a moment later Barr Whitney appeared.

He was fis.h.i.+ng, too, but instead of a willow stringer he carried a buckskin creel into which he slipped trout as he caught them. Dan held his breath and at the same time did his best to control his rising rage.

He wished mightily that he had brought the shotgun, but so far there had been no indication that he would need it. Watching Barr come nearer, he made himself very small.

If he did not move, maybe Barr wouldn't see him. But when the man came opposite Dan, he swerved and splashed across the creek. Trousers dripping, seeming like some wet monster that emerged from the water, he had only a glance for the growling Pal. But he thrust a hand inside his s.h.i.+rt and the boy knew that he had a weapon of some sort concealed there. Dan quieted the growling Pal by gently stroking him.

"What be ye doin' here, boy?"

Dan glared. "I don't talk to no blamed Whitneys!"

Barr's eyes clouded. "Mind your tongue, boy."

"I won't mind it! But one of you Whitneys will wish you'd minded yourselves when Jeff and me find out who killed my pop!"

"We will?"

"Yes, you will! And me and Jeff are on the track."

"You be?"

Jeff's image came to stand beside Dan, so that he no longer felt small, alone and so terribly frightened. With his friend beside him, he could do anything. "Ha!" he exploded. "You think Jeff's a peddler, but he's not." Dan cast desperately for an apt description and thought of the most awesome image his mind could conjure up. "He's a policeman. A real policeman. Now he's gone into Ackerton for more policemen, and soon's he gets some, they'll get every one of you darned Whitneys. You wait!

You'll be sorry, Jeff said so!"

"So-o," Barr Whitney purred. "So-o."

"Aren't you--Aren't you going to do anything to me?"

"Can't think of ary I'd do, 'cept mebbe string you on the hook an' use you for bait."

No longer interested in fis.h.i.+ng, Barr Whitney splashed back across the creek and disappeared in the forest. Immensely gratified, Dan watched him go.

He'd told those Whitneys.

Except that the fluffy kitten did not like the bird cage and expressed his dislike with frequent far-carrying "_miaouws_" that attracted the attention of everyone else in the day coach, Jeff's trip from Ackerton to Delview was almost routine. It was not entirely so because twice the conductor threatened either to take the kitten into the baggage car or throw Jeff and his luggage off the train. Both times a chorus of dissent rose from the six other pa.s.sengers in the car. The train did not make as many stops as the one from Delview to Ackerton had, but it was equally slow and the kitten provided diversion.

When they finally reached Delview, the kitten stood erect and glared at everything in sight. Obviously he was a creature of great character and he would fit in perfectly on Granny's hill.

Pack on his back and the caged kitten dangling from his right hand, Jeff strode down Delview's main street. He had decided, as he usually did, to guide himself by whatever circ.u.mstances seemed to require. If he felt too tired, he would put up at one of Delview's two hotels overnight. But the events of the day, particularly his astounding success with Granny's tapestries, had roused him to a pitch of enthusiasm so high that he was not at all tired. The star-lighted night was ideal for walking and Jeff made up his mind to go right through to Smithville. He should get there some time in the early morning hours. He was anxious to see Dan again and to watch Granny's eyes when he told her what he had done with her tapestries.

He was hungry, but the first cafe he entered was one of Delview's exclusive eating places and the late diners who still lingered there stared in horror at the caged kitten. A waiter asked him to leave, and Jeff did not feel like arguing the point. The second cafe, not so pretentious and presided over by a fat man with a completely bald head and a clean ap.r.o.n, was less particular. Jeff laid his pack down, put the cage on a chair and ordered,

"Steak, fried potatoes and coffee. Heavy on all three and a saucer of milk for the kitten."

"Sure, bud, sure."

The fat man poked a pudgy finger at the kitten, who crouched in the cage and evidently imagined himself unseen. He sprang suddenly, and when he leaped against the cage's door, it burst open. The kitten slithered through, jumped to the table, gave everything in the restaurant a haughty look, scrambled to Jeff's shoulder and began to purr contentedly.

"Cute lil' feller!" the fat man said admiringly. "Why do you keep him caged?"

Jeff saw opportunity. The cage had been only a means for getting the kitten from Ackerton to Granny's. But if the kitten preferred Jeff's shoulder, he was welcome to ride there. The fat man was obviously interested in the cage.

"Usually I don't," Jeff admitted. "I got the cage to bring him through from Ackerton." He added, as though it were an afterthought, "Darn'

thing cost me two dollars."

"_Hmm._ Need the cage any more?"

"I don't know."

"My wife's been lookin' for such. She keeps birds. What'll you take for it?"

Jeff forsook bargaining. His pack was full, and since the kitten seemed happy on his shoulder, he did not want to carry the cage to Smithville.

"Swap for the dinner."

"It's a swap."

The fat man, who apparently was also the cook, went into the kitchen. He came back with a platter containing a huge steak and an ample supply of potatoes. He also had a mug of coffee that held at least a pint. The kitten scrambled from Jeff's shoulder to the table top, turned up his nose at the saucer of milk placed before him, and looked appealingly at Jeff's steak.

Jeff grinned. This kitten knew what he wanted and was willing to try for it. Jeff fed him a small piece of steak, then another, and a third. Only when Jeff firmly refused to give him any more did he turn and lap up every bit of the milk. When it was time to go, he climbed back on Jeff's shoulder and pressed his naked nose and pads against his friend's neck, where they would stay warm.

Jeff walked swiftly through the cool night, stopping every hour or so to rest. He enjoyed every second of it.

Dawn was faint in the sky when they came to Smithville, and rising and stretching on Jeff's shoulder, the kitten greeted it with a hearty _miaouw_.

"Who's there?" It was the constable, Bill Ellis.

"Jeff Tarrant," Jeff called.

"I've been waiting for you."

Even though the constable was only half-seen, there was about him a great hesitation that was mingled with a certain furtiveness as he came through the darkness. Jeff waited, more than a little surprised.

Bill Ellis came nearer and whispered, "Where you been?"

"Why--Ackerton."

The kitten miaouwed again and Bill Ellis took a backward step. "What's that?"