Sube Cane Part 28

CHAPTER XVII

AN OLFACTORY RETORT

Up to the time that Biscuit struck the water he had uttered no outcry.

He had perfect confidence in his ability to swim and accordingly took the affair in the light of a rough joke. But when he came to the surface after his initial ducking he uttered a piercing shriek and went down again.

"He can't swim a stroke!" cried Sube as he hurriedly swam towards the spot where Biscuit had disappeared.

When Biscuit came up the second time Sube grabbed him by the hair, and with the a.s.sistance of Gizzard towed him to sh.o.r.e. He was soon stretched out on the gra.s.sy slope, head downwards to insure better drainage. And even before the water was all out of him he gulped out spasmodically:

"I can swim all right, only they threw me in upside down! I ain't learned to swim that way yet!"

"You're all right, Biscuit!" Sube a.s.sured him. "You can swim like a fis.h.!.+"

"Sure I can!... Didn't I swim to sh.o.r.e?"

"Well, you're here, ain't you? How could you get here if you didn't swim? When you go home you tell your mother you can swim like a fish, or she'll never let you come down here again."

"Well, I can, can't I?"

"Sure you can; just exactly."

"Then that's what I'll tell her."

"And you better not say an'thing about those big fellers helpin' you into the water, either," Sube advised.

"Oh, I have to tell her everybody I play with!" exclaimed Biscuit piously, "if she asks me."

"All right," muttered Sube, "if you call that playin'."

"But what'll I tell her 'bout my clo's bein' all wet?" asked Biscuit.

"Tell her you left 'em too near the bank, and they got pushed in--"

"Oh! I wouldn't tell my mother a lie for anything!"

"Lie? That's no lie! If you'd left 'em back there in the bushes they wouldn't of got in the water, now would they?"

"Oh, no! Not if I'd left 'em way back there."

"So you _did_ leave 'em too near the water, jus' as I said!"

Biscuit blinked in wordless approval.

That evening while Seth Bissett and Warren Sours with a number of their a.s.sociates were enjoying their evening dip, a hooked stick slowly reached out from the nearby shrubbery, and having become attached to one of the many articles of wearing apparel lying on the gra.s.s, drew it gently into the bushes. After a moment it was restored in the same way and another article taken. After this had gone on for some time the stick disappeared and was seen no more.

When the swimmers came out of the water at the approach of darkness it was apparent that something had gone wrong. An aroma that could not be wholly disregarded made known its undesirable presence. At first it seemed to be located somewhere about the gra.s.s plot, but as they finished dressing and started for home they discovered that it was apparently everywhere.

On the way Seth Bissett tarried for a friendly chat at the gate of a certain young lady, but found her unusually distant. So much so that in spite of his innocence of the cause, he deemed it prudent not to prolong his visit. Warren Sours went home; and as he entered the house with a jocular remark about the contaminated state of the atmosphere he was informed that until his arrival it had been quite satisfactory.

Retirement to the stable followed; and with the aid of a lantern he finally found in each of his hip pockets a pasty smear, that from the presence of a small piece of tinfoil in addition to certain other deductions, he took to be the remnants of a piece of superannuated limburger cheese. Further evidences were found inside his hatband, and under the innersole of each of his shoes, but not until several days later.

Subsequent inquiry developed that none of the persons at the pool that night had been spared, although no two were attacked in the same place.

Two days elapsed before Seth Bissett found a thin layer of the "dreadful" inside the lining of his favorite necktie, and in the meantime he had nearly hated himself to death. It was a week before Chuck Smith located a smear in the back of his watchcase, and during all that time he was haunted by a suspicion that he was no longer good company for man or beast. After changing his entire wardrobe several times in an effort to forget that fatal swim, Bob Beach found when he had occasion to use his purse a few days later that all his money, though honestly earned, had become badly tainted.

n.o.body seemed to be able to account for the mysterious attack. Some of the swimmers accused each other, only to arouse vigorous denial, and there was no proof. But Seth Bissett had his suspicions, and they were well founded.

If Mrs. Cane had known of the pollution that swept over the swimming-hole that night, she would doubtless have supposed that Sube was attacked in common with the others; for he came home reeking of a loathsome odor that he was unable to account for. But, of course, Mrs.

Cane heard little of the swimming-hole gossip.

"What _have_ you been doing!" she exclaimed as Sube came into the room.

"Never mind about that," growled his father. "Where are you going just about as fast as you can get there!"

Sube looked from one of his parents to the other in utter surprise.

"What have I done now?" he asked.

"Heaven only knows!" Mr. Cane exploded. "But do get out of this room with it!"

"With what?" asked the amazed boy, holding out his empty hands. "I ain't got an'thing."

Mr. Cane mangled the air with gestures of futility while his wife laid aside her embroidery and stood up.

"You've got something on you that doesn't smell very good. Come with--"

"Doesn't smell very good!" repeated Mr. Cane sarcastically. "Of all the feeble language! I can describe it for you in one short word!"

"Sam-u-el! Don't be vulgar! You run along to the bathroom, Sube. We'll try a little ammonia."

"Ammonia!" jeered Mr. Cane. "Am-mo-nia! You'd better boil him in muriatic acid and bury him for three weeks! A little ammonia," he repeated as he stood up and opened another window. Then his curiosity got the better of him. "Sube," he called, "I want to ask you a few questions--but you needn't come back here! Stop right there where you are."

A scowl of suspicion came over Sube's face as he halted and turned towards the author of his existence.

"Where have you been this evening?" his father began.

"Nowheres--jus' playin' round."

"Round where? Round what?"

"Jus' round here everyplace. I couldn't tell--"

"Well, tell me one place."

"Sir?--Why out in the back yard."

"Where else?"

"Why,--we went over in Bowers' back yard."