Sube Cane Part 22

Sube glanced triumphantly at Gizzard while Mrs. Tobin was busy with her thoughts. She was a little uncertain whether Sube had misquoted his father or recent discoveries had upset some more of our traditional history. What the boy had said, sounded like his father, certainly; and she decided to read up her history a bit before attempting to correct him. But while thinking the matter over she busied herself by wrapping up a package containing a toothbrush and certain other nocturnal necessities for her son, and reminding him to wash behind his ears and put on a clean collar before he went.

"It was that there hist'ry that put it acrost," Gizzard admitted as he and Sube pa.s.sed out of the house. "It must of been the Germans."

"Why I knew all the time it was the Germans! Don't you s'pose I know the hist'ry of the country I live in? Now you be sure you call it the Germans when you go in and spout before _my_ mother."

"Me?--_Me_ spout before _your_ mother?"

"Yes, _you_! Didn't I spout 'fore _your_ mother?"

"Yes, Sube, but I ain't a very good spouter. I get too dumb scairt!"

"Now don't back out on me, Giz!" pleaded Sube, "I got you off, didn't I?

Well, then, you gotta get me off! Now I'll tell you what to do. You tell her about your uncle Bert first pop, and then she won't have any excuse to say no!"

"I will if I can remember it," mumbled Gizzard. "I get so scairt I can't remember nothin'."

Not long afterwards The People _ex rel_ Cane and Tobin against The Society for the Prevention of Unnecessary Noises, came on for hearing before Mrs. Justice Cane sitting at Special Term. The argument was opened on behalf of the relators by Mr. Gizzard Tobin. The speaker's voice which at first was very low and uncertain, gathered speed and volume as it proceeded, and finally ended in perfect fury of words.

"My--my mother--she wants to--to know can Sube come over to my house--for supper to-night--and she wants to know can he stay all night with me to-night till eleven o'clock--and then she'll call us and wake us up so's my uncle Bert he can come and get us and take us to see the bonfire--he likes bonfires, he likes every kind of fires, he always goes to fires in the night, he's gone to fires ever since the Germans set fire to the Declaration-ofinna-pen'ance--"

Gizzard's finish was not unlike the explosion of a cannon-cracker after the proper amount of sizzling at the fuse.

"What is it you are saying, Charley?" gasped Mrs. Cane.

Gizzard turned hopelessly to his co-pet.i.tioner. "You tell 'er, Sube."

"I'm invited to his house for supper and to stay all night," Sube interpreted calmly.

"But what about the Germans setting fire to the Declaration of Independence?"

"You didn't understand him, he talked so fast. His uncle Bert's dead stuck on bonfires--"

"Dead stuck?"

"He likes 'em," Sube corrected, "and he wants us to go to bed early, and then he'll call us a little before midnight, and take us up to see the bonfire for a little while, and then take us back home again."

"That isn't a good place for boys," ruled Mrs. Cane dubiously. "There's a very rough element at those bonfires. What does your mother think about it, Charley? Is she going to--"

"Sure she is! Isn't she, Giz?" interrupted Sube with great enthusiasm.

"Yes, ma'am," mumbled Gizzard unconvincingly.

"That's what he was tryin' to tell you," Sube enlarged. "She likes to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth, and she says she's never missed a bonfire since we signed the Declaration of Independence from the Germans!"

"If that's the case," said Mrs. Cane with a visible effort to retain control of herself, "I'll have to let you go--"

"Whoo-oo-pee-ee! Hoo-oo-ray!" and Sube bounded out of the house with Gizzard at his heels. "Three rousing cheers for the ever-glorious Fourth!"

And they were gone.

CHAPTER XIV

THE GHOSTS

The boys experienced little difficulty in gaining entrance to the church through the cellar window, and noiselessly made their way to the gallery, from which they ascended a frail ladder leading to a hatchway in the ceiling. On raising the scuttle, Sube, who up to this time had maintained a somewhat aggressive lead, suddenly remembered his manners.

"Why, here, Giz," he said in a self-deprecatory tone, "here I been crowdin' ahead all the time. I'll bet you'd like to go first part of the way." And he nimbly descended the ladder and stepped to one side.

But Gizzard, too, had observed the pitchy darkness ahead. He, also, had felt the draft of hot stuffy air that rushed out at the opening of the hatchway. "I'm follerin' all right, ain't I?" he demanded with equal courtesy.

"Yes, but I don't want--"

"Well, go on, then!"

He caught Sube by the shoulder and gave him a forceful but friendly shove towards the ladder. Sube placed a tentative foot on the bottom rung and then turned back most considerately.

"But I don't want to hog the lead all the time," he explained courteously.

However, Gizzard was not to be outdone in politeness. He urged Sube forward with the most elegant sort of gruffness. "Get up that there ladder!" he ordered. "I'm right on your heels!"

Sube submitted to the inevitable and took the lead. Once in the loft he was able to discern another ladder. At the top of this was a third. Then followed several more. At last came another hatchway that opened into the blessed daylight, and the bell chamber itself. The boys were amazed at the size of the bell.

"It's bigger'n all outdoors with the lawn around it!" exclaimed Gizzard with an expression akin to awe. "S'pose we can ever ring it? If we can't we might as well be gettin' out of here."

"'Course we can ring it," was Sube's withering response; but at the same time he made a mental reservation.

"I s'pose we could swing that dinger back and forth if we couldn't do nothin' else," Gizzard admitted resignedly.

On concluding their examination of the bell they discovered that they were very high up in the air. The location of various points of interest occupied them for perhaps half an hour, and then time began to drag. It seemed a lifetime before darkness came, and meanwhile, the shouts of boys playing ball in a vacant lot not far away floated up to them with peculiar distinctness; and an outraged feeling in the place where the stomach was supposed to be, reminded them that supper-time had pa.s.sed and they had failed to perform the customary epicurean exercises.

Gizzard was inclined to complain. He could think of lots of other things that would have been more fun. But Sube realized that it was too late to back out, and he bolstered up his ebbing courage by talking of the glory of achievement.

"Won't the other kids open their eyes, though, when they hear this ol'

bell go boom--boo-oo-oo-oom! And won't they sit up and beg when they find out we're the ones who pulled it off!"

But Gizzard would not be comforted. "That's all right," he admitted, "only I wisht I was home in the pantry with a big bowl of bread and milk in front of me, and a piece of--"

"Yes, and how'd you like to have all the kids callin' you 'Quitter' and tellin' you to go play with Biscuit Westfall?"

"You don't think I'm goin' to quit now, do you?" muttered Gizzard peevishly. "Can't I talk about some'pm to eat without goin' home to get it? Cer'nly I can!"

"Well, don't let's talk about it, anyway," was Sube's conciliatory reply. "I'm hungry enough as it is--"

At this point a family of bats that lived far up in the steeple decided to go out in search of their evening meal. For a few moments the air was literally filled with flapping wings. The youthful bellringers nearly died of fright before they discovered the cause of the mysterious noises.