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""' " 1 ""■V*"' J' i""«'iiwi«pi ■■ ^ w^f^-f^p^^^^^pif^lM A BLUNDERING BOY. ^"^mmmm f\ J,— .f H J t..« ,f 1 i ./ i i/rl A T A BLUNDERING BOY. Jl l^tinwrotia §liat^. BY BRUCE W. MUNRO. PUBLISHED BT BBUCE W. MUNRO, TOBONTO. .■^ ^^mo Bvv 4 a- 4' »ADTri3 .f A r,. , ■<■-*.■ , ^ •SM^M n >•*■■,.:> ft TO THAT 8UPREHB AUTOCRAT, THE SMALL BOY OP NORTH AMURTOA^ THIS BOOK 18, WITHOUT PSBMISSIOIT, MOM * BBSPKOTFDLLT DBDIOATID. ??';« '— ' vi r < .. > U'ii y.'.y.t \' 1 1 H ■ f V i ;Mt} 1 ^a Ov t I .J. ;m; vj. i^- o y ^i«!;- ti • ■ ' > * ( „1i {i,y«r'! 1 !. • ev. :t 11 'r.if I \ Ukw/J V (i h>:n .1 -J \v,«7C« ». « lv,» ; a,i?f« ;:r v5' » ct *. J ■ < V i,-'^ t*** ; ,5? Oft >iC ;m, »;v.'.v,'»f, ;)Vi; V '• ■.^ i>'c>Ct» cilll yi'v; -j^i?,. ■ . ^li I . T.C. i\J -I,- s.'.li %3a^ tt \S «rf- tm4 'Tt^^ri )■ .■' > ,v.t :> ? I .* 7c t '» f ! .1 k t. .*.. t;;f!a.:i: or^v y :■ ? n*nO v?f .♦:> •r .• .^ .,, ' 1 ! • • u ao'. ''Afl' AajcT'iav.' is ..iS •.k OT »,.^« «J, t .. i i-v' l>C'. f.,1 9 r' r I/* . ^i2 «. ' .J»i?i>*!T V'V- 4 • '4-^ ' iuisxw\i •«' -iui. . . X V ;• J CONTENTS. -> Ptafftoe. zi. ' OBAnau Vmu. I. The Story Opened IT II. WiU't Lucky Blunder 2& nt WUl'a Native VUlage 81 IV. The Heroei of this History $9 Y. An Unpl<9aMnt Ride for Will.... 44 VI. Steve's Retaliation 64 VII. The Young Moralist.— A Clever 6chem^ . 64 YIII. <»carge Comes Out Ahead 76 IX. "Three Wise Men Went to Sea in a bomV* 88. X. The" Bowl" Ck)mes to Grief 94 XI. A Talented Lecturer 106 ^ XIL An Extraordinary Mad Dog. . ... . . 113 Xin. The Six go to a Picnic 136 XIY. Disaster Rather Than Fun 137 XY. A Lesson in Ballooning 149 XYI. Unheard-of Adventures with Balloons . . 166 XYII. They Prepare to " Giantize " 163 XYIII. The Cousins )9ee More Than They Bar- gained for : . 169 XIX. Within and Without the Demon's Cave. . . 178 XX. A Glorious Triumph 186 XXI. Uncle Dick Himself Again 197 XXII. Uncle Dick Evolves His Story 204 XXIII. The Sage's Experiment 213 XXIY. The Sage Unearths a Treasure 2 XXY. The Bitten Boy Takes Revenge XXYL Bob's DownfaU 249 >. ■'.' Obaytbb. XXVII. XXVIII. , XXIX. XXX. XXXI. ' XXXII. iKXXIII. XXXIV. ' XXXV. XXXVI. kxxvir. itxxviii. XXXIX. XL. XLl. XLII. ' xLiii: ' XLIV. XLV. XLVI. CONTENTS. They Propose to Turn the Tables 24fi The Tables Tuirned with a Vengeance. . . . 261 A Horrible Plot.— The Haurted House . . 260 The Bluhdierer at Work Again 271 Will Mends His. Ways 276 The Arch-plotter Arrives ....-...., •• 28ft "A Lesson in French '* : . : 387 Henry Takes His Bearings. — A Stampede. ' 298 Marmaduke Grasps the Situation ....... 307 To thel Rescue ! 319 Marmaduke Struggles with Il6raance . . . . 325 The Startlers Themselves are Startled 335 Repentant Plotters. — The Heroes Re-united 349 The Heroes Figure as Hunters .......... 348 How Will Lost His Deer 355 What Curiosity Cost the Hunters ...... . 362 Things Begin to Qet Interesting : . . . . 370 Is the Mystery Solved 7 37* The Last Blunder.-^ A Last Conversation. 382 The Story Closed ............' 390 ' ■ ■ . . ■ . ,.,j '». -r IM Hti .1 yoc'^M fi t V: PJiE E. ■■ < I ■ I * I I " ' !•■■■.■!> ''^ SittT as this story maly seem, thcfre ' id a 4x''; The intention chiefly is to be absurd; to ea^t ridicule oil certain pedants and romanceris ; and to jeer at the ridiiculous JBOIeinriity, mystery, and villaihy, that hedge in works of fietittnl Dii^^sted with taleis which cause exceedingly g6od hbi'dita'anj^ sbisroines to live a life of torture, oiily to fiAd a~havieti of'pe^ amd security in the last line of the last chapter, 'tlie writer determined to go over the old ground in a ditfeeent wajr. Kow t^at the story is written, however, he has a horrible su^icioti that in some measure he has totally failed in his dcHsign^and t&at more often than he cares to own, he has ov^sHbithd Koark. Ir Having etideavdred to make the intehtiob tolerably clear^ the reader may now be able to get mbre etijoyment from^thiil tal6: ' ■ '.■ The tale aims to attack so-called " vagaries," as w^Il as great and- contemptible follies. It attacks the frailties'of the school- boy with as much gusto as it attars the foibles of the romalicer. In fact, from first to last, in almost every chapter^ the writer rushes gallantly to attack something. Not Satisfied with' attempting to ridicule other people*s tales, he often indi- rectly, but not the less insultingly, attacks this on^' as th'ti> oardtful reiider will doubtless observe. This was begun in jest, perhaps;. but it soon became a fixed purpose, carried Out in owrn«at< Even a boy can generally see the drift of oui^ nartii- tive ; but it is often hard for the writer himself to see its'tnii^ meaning — harder still to appreciate it. Nevertheless, there ii a good deal to be seen in the story ; aud dottbtlets ' there lkfi> t>y JP^tEFACE. I mauiri^ vUl see mors in it than ^fras dorigned to be pat Again, 'find one in the history of nations. This story does not inform, - those itrhp arave for knowledge, and yet more knowledge, that ^the elephant is a pachydermatous native of Asia and Africai nor i'thatthe monkey is a quadrumanous animal, with prehensile tail, whctse habitat is in tropical regions. Still, the attentive reader ,', will, in all probability, gather from it that an ass brays, that a, ,V iH:|nt^eak8,thata school-boy's pets are mortal, and that gunpowder is liable to explode when fire is applied to it. It is not witten , ^,.|iil9 a guide and instructor to youth. Its heroes are deplorably /. depj^ved ; they love to plot mischief. Yet a boy may possibly ^ jlearii something from our work. He may learn that tha ^y. ^^,^ who, plays practical jokes on his school-fellows generally ^Vgets. , .the i worst of it," that he often sufiers more than the intended ^^yictijOQ. ,He may learn, also, that a boy's wickedness bri^gaits |. ^wn pi^nishment. (The writer takes great pains to correct ijbhe ^^ ^i^prits— ii^ fact, he never fails to do so after ea^h o^ence.) ^: ^f jpourse, every boy has learned all this before i probabljt in ^..^fyyer^, book he ever read ; but as it is a fundamental priufyipla ^..m romance jbo enforce this doctrine, it is here enforiped., ; [ . .^«v . Mai^y A writer wishes to make assertions for which' ho : does. «;^.ipiot always c^ioose to be responsible. In such caae^^heoputa 1, 1^ aP»<^i^i<^n ^nto the mouth of one of his characlecsi) an, 01 *^ ]tffff{i3af9,h]9 gentiemaoi'^ fathering it sometames, 4 '^eonaum* .v;'l9s^^i;(yijp^" 4^ <>|!hei' times. In some inataaca^^ywo'hAve ''" B0T8 ANS B0T8. 4n:f The writer dere modesttj lays dali)t%' # MHH, iili»»^RlwBi* ^t^^W^lted vii*tue : though he excels in Wegotism, h» tsemUt ^Cfklh hiipself an authdr ! Tet if he irere vtltiiig mkeimii&ai^ri .ff^mpaar, he saighi indol^ in such expMsidoat M^fFherfw^lMr J^tfj^O: l)9g8 to differ firom Mr. ^urfby f cur, <*TlMi vauthwfsiilliii ,.qi^ %c|jectj ves inay be increased by tixe teaeher, ad Ubiiurm IS^t ^l^iq^s^jiy is intended for youths of a reaiKmingage. In^irriltii^ ,for, jviv^ciles of tender year^ it is well to w«igh Aurefallyrto^'s „. expressions, and to use only choice and elegtmt expletives,, t,^ ; . ; y^derstand, gentle reaMler, that man onlyis attacked in. this •tory. Though the fair sex are occasionaUy and incidentally introduced, th^ writer has too ni,uch rtei>ect for them to: go ]beyoi(id the introduction, in this book. Even whto HettTy personates '^Sauter^e " the motive is good. Understand i4ll this) and read accordingly. :v ' The .moral of this story is intended to be good'; but itf a story of its light and fickle nature, the less said iabout a ihoial the better. The writer has great affection for boys ;. he respects th^, iind loves to see them enjoy themselves, but he is liot prep&fed to' say that he fully understands them. A BOT is a cre^t to i neighborhood — till he hangs a battle-scarred cat to the chief citizen's flag-staff, or destroys a milltdaiu by tunnellin|; a bole through it, when, of course, he is a disgrac^ to the race. Though it is uncertain who is the hero of this Story, Blieve ibd Henry are the favorites. Steve is more or less a boy yl>nt as the story advaUices the reader will perceive that he improvei im both wit and wisdom. Qeorge 'jt one of -the tx>yB %bo " Ibve *^^'' boc^s ; ** but he tempered c(Humon sense with study, and il^er ^^'pefiued to join, with his companions in their firolics or '^ expe- «'^^^ dittolML^' With little or no benefit to himsdf, or, for thai ni matter, to anybody else, George, like most studious you^ of JiisAgs^ nsid Jbopks entirely beyond his obmppeheiisioh. Ia one hundred pages of scientific readiiigj he probabljl' umuler- itood and retained ons fact; the other fa^tH were either ii\ zUr. ipSiSFACE. I ■ hi: h: ttittinderstood or fcorgotten; or mi^ht better liAve btoen. Yean ago, when tke writer used to wear out hia pockets with bulky jack-knives, and quarrel with other youngstem about ike «agaei*y of bis «irii»d«g, Jm koev a boy who, Kke 'Jkn^^^iis^ subject to " the ohilk.'' But the writer was probably too youAg at that tinie to have an insight into another's character, and l^e only affinity between that boy and Jim 4s that both iwm ' a a prey to " the chills." It may be objected that it is atran^ that Oharles should be able to work on the other boys' leeiii^ •0 well. Very true ; soit ia Stilli he could not have slain a robber-knight, nor outwitted an, Indian scout. Henry is not oiie of the original heroes,, but as he is necei^sary to the «tory he^ is intR>duced. « . , Th» writer, disgusted with books in which the ho'oes are treated with much respect, endeavours to heap every indignity upon these foolish' boys. In a word, he has no apparent respect iof any one, big or littlOi old or young, in this volume. To go still further, he has no respect for himself. in the case of the blue-eyed heroine and each boy's mother, hoWever, there is an exception, a^d exceptions prove the rule,. „ As for Mr; Lawrence's " mystery," it does not amount to ittuch, though it is intended, like everything else, to serve a purpose. Look at it as it appears, and in ten minutes a IhU- atioker could hatch. a better plot. Look at it as it appears, and it is idiotic, yet perfectly harmless ; look at it in its figurative meanii^g, and, though it is not so good as was intendiB4* it yetf-T-buti we are top discreet to say more on this .head, The- writer respectfully observes that his maniao is .xu>t dirawn from nature, but from romance. He never informod hiukstilf of tJie habits of those unfortunate people— ^neyor had thi0|>leaBure'Oi even, a slight acquaintance with thaia'^* iMkUavt. ite itha • story^ aod . to- mcify %h^;:mtA^ -af hamj -'-K^r^^.- ■ . r •■■*.. .•.••;- v\,. . i> ■nl'' A DISCKEIT JlFfilTEB. When finA we practise to Jeceive," •1 many a writer^ oonftised plbt bears w i t nW M L Hav^manjf ' objects in view in writing this story, the reader must ima)c49 ti&o best of It, if it tometimiBS seems disjointed Still/ if the astiiifr, r^er thinks he detects a place where thiis history cloes not hang together, let him not be too much elated, for the' writer believes he could point o«it several such places himself. Of course, no boy will read this preface ; it would, therefore, lie a waste of time to address a discourse to boys in i^. Reader, •did yon ever observe the manner in^ wbich a boy ignores the preface in hfe «chool-%odks t If not, you do not know hnw: much scorn a boy's face is capable of displaying. ^^vartheless, this preface may be of use to a bojr. Supposa. that an indcdgent uncle «hoidd be jockeyed into buying a copy •of .this- book for his little nephew. In such a case, would Aot this pre&ce make an admiraible ^' flier " for the little nephew's dart t Certainly it would ; and the next morning the little nephetir's mamma would find a picturesque dart, with thia elaborate preface fluttering at the end, adorning a panel of the parlour door. ^' Perhaps," sneers the reader of mature years, " you think to have a fling at the almost antiquated custom of writing prefaces?" Perhaps so, kind reader, and why not t It seems natural for some writers to wish to display their wisdom : some mak»-a.show of hammering out tropes that no one can appreciate ; others, in coining new compound words that won't find a place in the dictionaries of the future ; still others, in inserting such foreign words and phrases as may be found in the back of a school-boy's pocket dictionary. (To do them justice, however, the latter geniuses, careful not to offend our taoble English, considerately write such words and phrases in italics:) This writer, on the contrary, displays his ybo^uAtiM* T XYt FStlFACX. hy tacMing things that he affcerwardi leMni» mr6 out of hSi* reftoh. The writer aeemft most at home when attempting to poke fun 'at ro^nknoe; yet he is tormented night and day, so much ' so that he has no peace, with romance. In fact^ gentle reader, 'if any human being suffers more in tiiat way than he, pity him ' with all your heart, for he must be a wretch indeed. Oannot this be explained logically t Perhaps so ; but it isi^t worth anybody's while to do it. Notwithstanding that our preface is so grandiloquent, the story opens, the reader will observe, very modestly. But if he should persevere a little way, he will find that the writer soon strikes out boldly. . Of course this preface was written after the story ; but, let the reader be entreated, if he will excuse the Hibemicism, po read it first. If he does not^ we are only too confident he will never read it. This is not prophecy, but intuition. BRUCE W. MUNRO. mmmm 2£3.\Ti^l iric Bui '. ■*MVi; «i>***WT*il** ^ ■ i-*;:.* '•■S.ai^Js.^.'jJaoA*,.''?;^ .ti?fltn-. A BLUNDERING BOY. - tM Chapter I. Tr^ •?<' The Story Opened. WILLIAM, baptized William, but always called . WUl, was a bay who had a habit of committing bluiid^rs — a habit which, as will be seen, occasionally led hjin into deep disgrace. When a mere, boy, his blunders vere of little consequence; but when older they"asisumec| a more serious form. Most of them arose,from Want ^f care, as he did everything without considering what the end might be. Doubtless, he ought to have been reproved for this ; but as he was onhr a boy, and as many of hi^ blunders pai'took of the ludicrous, his parents laughed at him, but seldom took pains Jlo correct him. Will's father owned a highly cultivated farm, near one of the great lakes, and was a man of means. He indulged freely m dignified language, in illustrated magazines and weeklies, in frequent pleasure trips by land an4^ water, and in gilded agricultural machines, fragile and compli- cated, but quite as useful as ornamental. Will's mother was an amiable lady, who accompanied her husband on every alternate pleasure trip, and who, by the help of an able housekeeper and a fire-proof cook, spread a table that excited the admiration or envy of ^i^l who knew her, the housekeeper, or the cook. Such were Will's father and mother, who generally^ as he was their only child, suffered him to havo his ow^ way, took notice of all his 3ayings and doings, and occa: sionally jotted them down in a disused diary. But he was not the kind of boy to be spoiled by such usage; on the contrary he wa^ a very good boy. 2 18 A BLUNDERING BOY. l I He was an athletic little fellow, able to undergo great fatigue, and endowed with so much perseverance and hope that he would fish all day for trout, and return at dusk with nothing but a few expiring mud-pouts and two or three forlorn fish worms. He was known to all the villagers, respected by all his school fellows, and was involved in all their troubles. But his school fellows did not regard him as a hero; in their expeditions he was seldom chosen leader ; in their " trials by jury " he was frequently a juryman — in time of need the entire jury — but only occasionally the judge. Will attended school regularly and learned his lessons carefully, whether he understood them or not. His appetite for learning was keen, but his appetite for sport was insatiable ; no boy, on being set loose from school, was more demonstrative than he. When old enough to be out with his father, lie followed him constantly. About the whole farm there was not a hole into which he had not fallen, not a stone of any size over which he had not stumbled, and no danger of any kind, from animals or macMnes, from which he had not narrowly escaped. He was dt'ten carried bruised, wet and tearful into the presence oKhis terrified mother, who vowed that he should never again leave her sight. But as soon as his wounds were dressed and his wet, muddy, and sometimes blood-stained garments were changed, he would Silip away, to invite new dangers and contend with old ones. Even when sitting quiet in the house, learning his lessons, his ink-bottle would unaccountably pour its contents over his books, his papers, or on the carpet. Yet Wills father declared that the boy was neither awk- ward nor stupid, but only " inconsiderate " and " head- long.' In proportion as he grew older, Mr. Lawrence hoped that he would grow wiser, and less " headlong." Having thus touched upon Will's characteristics, it is now in order to begin at the beginning, when he was a small b )y. One day, when the boy had arrived at the age of seven yjars, a strolling and struggling newspaper genius was mvited to spend thti afternoon and evening at the farm A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING. n house. At the supper table this gentleman interested himself particularly in the boy, and the mother, pleased with this attention, began to enlarge upon her darling's talents and cleverness, till, warming with maternal prids, she became quite eloquent. " What do you suppose he did the other day ? " she asked. Will's face suddenly became red. His mother did not notice this, but the newspaper genius did ; and while he answered politely, he muttered to himself, " Hanged some- body's cat, I should infer from his looks." " Why, he — " began the mother, when she was sud- denly interrupted by Will's saying, " Please don't tell, mother ! " " This remark, of course, drew the attention of all three to the boy, and they saw that he appeared ill at ease, and that his face was painfully flushed. Mrs. Lawrence looked surprised. " Why, Will," she said, " I'm sure its greatly to your credit." Then turning to the guest : " Mr. Sargent, the other day he gave his papa the boundaries of every country and continent on the globe; and he did it all from memory, n9t looking once at a map ! " Mr. Sargent was a polite man ; he now expressed the liveliest astonishment. " Oh ! " burst from Will's lips, followed by a sigh of relief, " Is that what you wanted to tell ? " " What did you suppose your mamma intended to tell me?" basely inquired the newspaper man, quickly recover- ing from his astonishment. Will hesitated, but finally answered, " I thought it wss about the fire-crackers." The guest's curiosity was awakened. "What about the fire-crackers ? " he inquired, so courteously that no ono could take offence. " Oh, he had a bad time with them ; that's all ; " said Mrs. Lawrence, coming to the rescue. But Will, who was plainly dissatisfied with his mother's version of the affair, explained, with an effort that proved him to be a hero, " I had some fire-crackeis, and they set the chip yard on fire, and nearly burnt up a cow in tli^ cow-house I " 20 A BLUKDBBIKO BOT. Having thus eased his conscience, he relapsed into silence. But it was evident that his nerves were quite unstrung ; the visitor was therefore not taken wholly unawares when Will, in passing him the " preserves," spilt them on his pants. With a si^h of resignation the unfortunate took the mishap as a joke, and asked, as they rose from the table, if Will would bring out some of his toys. " Get out the gun you made yourself," Mr. Lawrence su^ested. jHie boy left the room but soon came in with a rude weapon— which boys would call a sijuirt-gun, but which Mr and Mrs. Lawrence, from ignorance or flattery, called a gun. But time is precious to some people ; perhaps they called it a gun to save breath. The errant newspaper man took up the squirt-gun, to examine it at his convenience, but lo ! another mishap ! The infernal machine, or whatever one may call it, had discharged a black and muddy fluid over his spotless shirt front. Another involuntary " Oh ! " broke from poor Will's lips. " It^must be the poison we had for the red currant bugs ! " he groaned. " I thought I had squirted everj'^ drop out of the gun, but — " " This is an extraordinary little gun, I've no doubt," said the unhappy man, in a pet, " but T don't wish to experiment with it at present. I should prefer to see some harmless toy, such as a wooden top or a horse-hair watch-chain. It is always dangerous for me to meddle with guns, anyway." For once, the newspaper man's suavity had failed him. ' But Mrs. Lawrence, in her heart, thought that a judg- ment had overtaken him for ferreting out Will's secret. The owner of the gun took it and gladly left the room. fie did not return with his wooden tops, but climed up on the roof of the stable, where he whiled away the rest of the evening with his new jack-knife and a piece of cedar. He did not cut his fingers very badly, however. . The distressed parents were placed in a very embarras- sing situation, but the sufferer's equanimity soon returned, and the conversation again flowed on smoothly. will's littls trap. tl When the visitor took leave, it is to be hoped that he took with him a due appreciation of Will's talents and cleverness. Next morning Mr. Lawrence called his son and ad- dressed him thus : " My son, you are a very heedless boy. Reflect on the sad results of your heedlessness, and en- deavor to use the faculty of reason before you act in any matter. Think of the annoyance you gave us last night ! You ought never to interrupt your mother, for you may be sure that she would never tell a stranger anything to your discredit. Will you bear thiB 1.1 mind ? " " Yes, sir," muttered the boy, trying to understand the meaning of the big words. " feut," anxiously, *' will he be scolded and whipped, as Jim was when he got his clothes spoiled ? " " Are you speaking of the gentleman who passed the evening with us ? " " Yes, sir." " Then don't grieve about that, for his parents will not harm him," Mr. Lawrence replied with a smile. A short time after this occurence. Will informed his father that a muskrat had built itself a home by a stream which ran through their farm. " Should you like to catch it in a trap ? " Mr. Lawrence asked. The boy, of course, said yes. Immediately the fond father bought a strong little trap and presented it to the would-be trapper. The trap cost ninety cents ; a wander- ing tin-peddler might perhaps be generous enough to give Will fifteen cents for the pelt of the muskrat. In that event everybody would be satisfied. But the home of the muskrat would be made desolate. Mrs. Lawrence beheld this trap with horror, and not without reason, for, within the next two hours. Will con- trived to imprison in it several of his fingers. After repeated warnings from his parents, the young hero set out for the stream, trap in hand. Having success- fully achieved the feat of setting it, he returned and gave his father the particulars " I fear that some more historical animal than a musk- A BLUNDERING BOY. rat will come to an untimely end in that trap/' Mr. Law- rence said dolorously. His words were prophetic. In the morning, full of hope, Will hurried to the home of the musk rat. Beyond a doubt, the trap held an animal. But it was neither a musk nor any other kind of rat ; it was a beautiful little greyhound, fast in the jaws of the trap, and stone dead. Will's tears flowed freely at this pitiable sight, and fear was added to his grief, when, in the greyhound, he recognized the constant companion of Senator Murdock. " roor little Pet ! How often you have played with me ! " the trapper said, in the interval of his sobs. " Oh, what shall I do, and what will Mr. Murdock say to me ! " Just as the boy spoke, the Senator was approaching in his search of the dog. "Ah, my little man," he said, as he drew near the sorrowing trapper, " can you tell me where to look for Pet ? I've lost him this morning, and I thought you could help me to find him, if any one could. We live so near that you and Pet are always together. Why; what is the matter ? " he asked, seeing that the boy was crying bit- terlv. " Oh, sir ! " was all Will could say. But the Senator was now beside him, and, taking in the matter at a glance, he exclaimed angrily, " What is this I see ? Have you, whom I always considered a moral little boy, have you entrapped my dog ! I am amazed ! Poor Pet! Poor little dog ! " " I didn't mean to catch him" Will pleaded, " and I am very sorry." " Well, I shall not blame you," the Senator said slowly. " Your father ought not to let you set traps so recklessly, and I lay the blame upon him." " Don t blame my father, for it is my own fault," Will replied, ready, at all times, to defend his father. " I will never do it again, Mr. Murdock ; indeed I won't." " Hardly, seeing that the poor beast is dead. But help me to get it out of trap, and ] shall take it home and bury it.^' YKBT GREAT DANOKR. Then the two, man and boy, lej^islator and trapper, fell to work, and soon liberated the dog from his prison. If the Senator could have known what danger his white and dainty fingers were incurring, that is, how narrowly they escaped being pinched, he would have kept them away from that trap. In fact, considering the state of excitement into which any mishap threw Will, it is strange that they were not cruelly mangled. But they escaped without a scratch. Mr. Lawrence was deeply grieved when he heard the ignominious fate of, the Senator's dog. Probably he felt that he himself was blamable. But the affair was soon all but forgotten by Will, be- cause,at his age, such misdemeanors are generally forgotten OS soon as the offender repents of them and is pardoned by the sufferers. This chapter, like all the others, is intended to serve a purpose; yet, lest the reader should fancy that we are writing for the entertainment of juveniles, we shall relate but two more incidents of Will's childhood. Chapter II. Will's Lucky Blunder. Some two years after this incident, when Will's parents announced one fair morning that he was to accompany them on a trip to the city, many miles distant, far from being in the mood to remember his father's injunctions, he was in the humor to commit the most atrocious blunders. He was full of eagerness to be off, and his beaming face bespoke his joy. At his tender age, all the help he could give was of little moment ; but yet, in his eagerness to get ready for the journey, he threw the household into such confusion that he and his harassed parents barely reached the platform in time for the train. The day was fair, and the prospect from the car window delightful. The scent of new mown hay (it was thQ ill i' '- 24 A BLUNDERING BOY. month of June) rendered the trip as pleasant as an east- ern ruler s dream. (The deeds of eastera rulers, however^ should not always be provocative of pleasant dreams.) It was morally impossible for Will to sit still in his seat For once the good little boy was regardless of his parents' wishes ; and in spit ot mamma's entreaties and papa's commands, he persisted in thrusting his head out of the window. How fortunate it is that wrong doing inevitably leads to punishment ! On this ocassion, however, the boy's punishment was so long delayed that the sanguinary sword of justice seemed to be rusted fast in its sheath. But that sword was drawn at last. After riding for ten minutes with his head far out of the car, with an involuntary " oh " he abruptly drew it in, but — hatless. The boy's gestures of excitement and his parents' evi- dent vexation attracted every one's attention. Truly, the parents suffered equally with the child. It is always thus. " I'd put my present for Henry in it, and now il's gone ! " groaned Will, unmindful of the fact that every one in the car could hear him. " It serves you right, little boy," observed a pious but melancholy looking old lady, who occupied an adjacent seat. " Now you'll have to ride bareheaded ; " she mut- tered. " That's what comes from disobeying your parents!" " For shame ! " whispered a humane, but characteristi- cally lank, Down-easterner to this meddlesome dame. " Just you let the poor little fellow alone." Then, noticing Will's sad condition, he began to search his pockets. Will saw this and guessed what was coming, for he had often remarked that that movement on the part of those interested in him was usually followed by the bestowal of sweetmeats or other good gifts. It may here be boldly stated that our hero was not above eating candy, which he devined was what was coming. Will was not mistaken in this instance, for his humane friend soon approached him and put something round and THE BULL S-EYE. 25 hard into his hand, saying, " Don't fret, little man ; here's a bull's-eye for you." Quietly as this kind action was done, it did not escape the old lady's sharp eyes, and she thus gave vent to her indignation : " dear, what are we coming to ! Here's a man rewarding, actually rewarding, a boy for being wicked ! " However, neither Will nor his parents overheard her virtuous comments. Will was wholly engrossed with his bull's-eye, which was about the size of a ten-year-old boy's marble. Though originally white and striped with red bands, it was now more or less discoloured and very sticky. Will slipped the bull's-eye into his mouth, but immedi- ately spat it out. " All covered with dirt and sweat, and as hard as an iron button," he muttered. " It v^ras kind of the man to give it to me, but L can't eat it." But what should he do with it ? Clearly, the floor would be the best place for it ; and so, while his father's attention was engaged with a cartoon, and his mother's with a wayside chapel, he stooped and laid it softly on the floor, unseen and unheard. Then he chuckled, admiring his great sagacity, not knowing that an ordinary bull's-eye may be dropped in aliiiost any part of a railway carriage in motion without arresting attention. Would that a novelist who regularly " anticipates " were here ! How he might expatiate ! Beginning thus, he might go on exhausting ink-bottles and filling pages at pleasure : — " Ah ! little could Will dream, little could any one present dream, what destiny ha^l in store for that bull's- eye ! How diflerent was its fate from that which the benevolent gentleman supposed it would be ! " But it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate. The kind hearted Yankee left the car soon after giving Will the bull's-eye, so that he was not a witness of what was to happen. The rejected bull's-eye, set in motion by the car, gradti-. A BLUNDERING BOY. i- tiXly made its way into the middle of the passage between the two rows of seats, where it stopped. If noticed by any person, it was not coveted, but was suffered to lie there in peace. Yes, there it lay ; its locomotion arrested'; its wander- ings brought to a close. But hist ! who enters ? It is the " Student of Human Nature." A gaunt yet spiritual-looking man opens the door, and slowly and pompously, he marcnes towards the other end of the car. His air, his gait, his costume, even to his boots, his cane — all were peculiar. His object in life was to rove hither and thither, study- ing that grand theme. Human Nature. Although above conversing with his fellow creatures, excepting when obliged to do so, his delight was to find some quiet spot from which he might form opinions of them without beiag disturbed. Whether he makes this employment " pay " by writing treatises on the subject, is a question which only he himself can answer. What he pretends to com- prehend may be, and doubtless is, a noble science ; but in his hands it is only a mockery. Only two or three persons in the railway carriage knew the man or his employment, but his demeanor could not fail strongly to impress the looker-on. His intention, on this occasion, was to take a seat in some dark corner, from which he might observe the oc- cupants of the car. With stately tread he approached that bull's-eye, placed his foot on it in such a way that it rolled, and with a crash the student fell headlong, with anything but " studied grace." He was on his feet again before assistance could be offered — this, however, was not remarkable, as nearly every one present was convulsed by laughter — and, after glancing malignantly at the cause of his fall, he scowled horribly on two or three of the loudest laughers, and then tore his hankerchief out of his pocket. Too late ! A flow of blood was streaming fast from his nose, which organ had apparently been bruised in his fall. "THE NOSEBLEED." 27 A boy with the *' nosebleed " is an object alike of laughter and pity ; but a man with a bleeding nostril ! Certainly his situation is ignominious. And the situation of the student on this occasion was more than ordinarily ludicious. How blind and wilful, how paradoxical men are ! What a favorable opportunity now offered for observing the various emotions depicted on the faces of those people ! Some were expressing their feelings by their rapidly- working features ; others by their waggish gesticulations ; still others by half suppressed interjections. While some looked merely amused, others looked awe-struck : only two persons seemed sympathetic. The more solemn passengers looked on with dignified serenity ; but a smile of savage delight, indicative of innate depravity or blasted hopes and bitterness of heart, played over the wan faces of certain jaded and woebegone book agents. A few paid no attention whatever, while a great many made praiseworthy endeavors to keep their facial muscles from twitching. But the Student of Human Nature left this vast mine unexplored, and hurried out of the car, hiding his bleed- ing nose in his handkerchief. The now notable bull's-eye was still in sight, and it was plain to all that it had caused the mishap. The old lady looked at it intently, and was heard to mutter that she knew no good would come from rewarding the boy for his wickedness. A tender-hearted person is severely punished when his own wrong-doing subjects another to pain or annoyance. Now Will was tender-hearted : he lay nestled in a corner of his seat, almost hidden from the occupants of the car, doing penance by heaving dolorous sighs and shedding a few remorseful tears. His father and mother seemed ill at ease. Presently the former stooped over him with awful solemnity, and whispered, " Oh, Will ! why did you drop that on the floor, when you could just as well have thrown it out of the window ! Your blunders are sufficiently bad when they affect yourself alone ; but they are lamentable When 28 A BLUNDERING BOY. , I their results are disastrous to others. You are old enough now to behave like a little gentleman ; promise me that you will be a good boy." On the instant Will ceased both to heave sighs and to shed tears, and he earnestly promised to do better for the future. In his way, Mr. Lawrence was a philosopher. He knew that any boy on being addressed in such terms and forgiven, instantly dries his tears, breaks into smiles, and promises to do great things. He reflected on this, and spoke as he did because he did not wish his son's eyes to be red and swollen with crying when he should reach his destination. Soon after the train slowed into the station at which they were to alight. The good old lady softened so far as to bid the bearheaded boy good-bye as he stumbled out of the car. The first thing to be done was to buy him a hat, since his parents had not been so provident as to take along'an extra one. This was managed by leaving him and his father at the depot, while Mrs. Lawrence went to the nearesthat store. The good soul also bought some sugar-plums to replace thfe present which Will had lost. As soon as the novelty of Will's new hat had worn off, so far, at least, as to allow it to remain quietly on his head, he and his mother went to spend the rest of the day at the house of a relative, while Mr. Lawrence made his way to a law office. About nightfall the three returned to the depot, took passage by the cars, and were soon on their way home- ward. It was still early in the evening, but the family party did not expect to reach home till past midnight. Will was thinking — not of his latest blunders, but of some second-hand presents that he had received from his cousin, Henry. Mr. Lawrence, who was accustomed to travel, seemed inclined to fall asleep — in fact, they had not proceeded far on their way when a gentle snoring evinced that he was indeed asleep. Will fancied that his mother also seemed tired and drowsy, and he hastily WILL ON GUARD. 29 concluded that his parents would have to depend upon him to be awakened when the train reached their station. This thought kept the boy on the alert, and he took pride in the confidence thus placed in him. To him, how- ever, the time passed much more slowly than when going to the city in the morning. This was only to be expect- ed. Then, the sun was shining bright, the car was full of people, and his parents were wide-awake and in a humor to talk to him ; now, it was night, — calm and starlit, but night, — the three M'ere almost entirely alone in the cAr, and his parents were tired, sleepy, and silent. ' Nevertheless, much as he wished to keep awake, he at last fell into a doze, from which he was aroused by the train's coming to a stop and the brakesman's shouting out the name of a station. The name seemed familiar, and Will, rubbing his eyes and yawning, at once began to reason, aloud : " Our station ; I must wake pa and ma, or the train will go on." Both were awakened without delav. "What! is this our station already?" Mr. Lawrer'^ asked, with some surprise. " You must be mistaken. Will — or have I really been asleep ? " " Yes, sir, you have been asleep ; and this is our station." " Then there's no time to be lost, I suppose " ; and Mr. Lawrence snatched up his valise and started towards the door, followed by his wife and son. " I almost wish we had stayed at Aunt Eleanor's," he muttered, as he helped them off the train. " But I must attend to that business in the morning ; and, fortunately, our house is not far from the depot." They stepped out on the platform and the train was off on the instat)t. Mr. Lawrence went into the ticket-off.ce, to speak to the night operator, and, to his consternation, found that instead of being his own village, he was at another, full twenty miles away. His first act was to rush outside and make a vain at- tempt to signal the engineer to stop the train. Too late ! It had already left the station, and was moving faster and faster 30 A BLUNDERING BOY. That hope blasted the unhappy man did not know what course to take, and he strode up and down the plat- form like a mad man ; while his wife and son stood meek- ly by, the one filled with deep displeasure, the other with agonizing grief and despair. Presently Mr. Lawrence halted before the boy, with these words : " Oh, Will ! How could you have made such a blunder } I fail to trace a striking resemblance be- tween the name of this place and that of our own. You, who know so much about geography, you to be so gross- ly ignorant respecting your own county ! Jn an hour from this time wo should have been at home. — Never mind, Will," he added in softer tones. " Come, don't cry ; I suppose you, too, were asleep." " Yes, I nmst have been asleep," Will acknowledged. The writer does not entertain much respect for Mr. Lawrence, because he was a man who alternately checked and indulged his son. But, on the whole, he was a dis- creet and affectionate parent — at all events, Will loved and honored him. " I say," Mr. Lawrence cried to a man with a Itintern, " I say, when will the next train going west be due ? " " Next train for you, sir ? In just three hours," was the cheering answer. "Then my business is ruined!" groaned the unhappy man. However, this f retfulness at length wore away, and the three resigned themselves to wait, as patiently as might be, for the arrival of the next train. Mrs. Lawrence went into the waiting room, while Mr. Lawrence and Will spent most of the time out on the platform, gazing at the stars and the signals along the railway -track. After Mr. Lawrence had talked himself hoarse about the signs of the zodiac, the perfection of signals used on the railways, and the stupendous power of steam, he de- termiTje'^ to improve the remaining time by reasoning V :t[ tV' s a on the sin of carelessness. Will — whose ■'.cT- > e ;iV>ging with such terms as spherical bodies, e;>/..'. ''■>''/■■'■ nsity, eternal revolution?, average mo- m^ m^.i., ^ i .lernatural velocity, lunar cycles, seriiophor- "1 UNCLE DICK. 31 ot know the plat- ed rneek- her with )y, with ade such ince be- 1. You, gross- ur from r mind, cry; I dged. 'or Mr. checked fl. dis- 1 loved ntern, ?" ^as the mppy id the Inight Iwent Will It the |bout on de- ling lose lies, 10- lor- ical warnings, and planetary systems — sighed on this change in the conversation, for he loved sonorous phrase- ology, but listened humbly. After a long lecture, in which he touched upon various matters not pertinent to his subject, Mr. Lawrence made a dark allusion to his " ruined business," and tnen wound up with these words : " Will, if you continue in your present course, I am afraid your end will be as terrible as your uncle Dick's." " What became of Uncle Dick, pa ? " eagerly inquired the boy, thinking that the subject would again be changed. Poor boy ! he felt his guilt, but he winced under his father's polysUabic reprimands. " Listen, Will," said Mr. Lawrence, " and I will give you a short account of your uncle. Uncle Dick, my brother, was an eccentric man ; good-natured, but credulous, and always making blunders. In that particular, he was not unlike you ; but his blunders were far more serious in their results than yours. Early in life he made a large fortune by lucky speculations. One day he drew all his money from the banks and collected all that he could from his debtors — for what purpose I never knew ; for, no sooner did he get his wealth into his own hands, than both he and it vanished, and nothing has since been seen or heard of either. Some suppose that he was robbed and murdered in the appi'oved way ; others, that he left the country, to return unawares at some future time ; while a few unprincipled barbarians maintain that he has lost his mind. I, myself, think that by some great blunder, or unlucky speculaticm, he lost all his wealth, and prefers to stay awa^ till he can return worth as much as, or more than, he was before. Poor Dick ! his fate is wrapped in awful mystery. ' Mr. Lawrence considered himself an apt story-teller, and delighted in his own narratives. But Will, to whom this story was new and almost unintelligible, strove to discern even the faintest resemblance between Uncle Dick s doinjifs and his own. " 1 do not often speak of my poor brother," Mr. Law- rence said sadly, " but I think of him and dream of him, 32 A BLUNDERING BOY. always. But, Will, I know you are good and sincere in your heart of heart ; this misfortune was only a blun- der ; and so let us think no more of the matter." Gentle readei*, observe that the mournful story of Will's uncle is told on the thirty-first page. Observe this care- fully, as in the future you may wish to read it again. At that instant, news that nearly made Will a hero was flashed along the wires. Voices, loud and eager, were heard in the office. Mr. Lawrence went in to make inquiries, and learned that an accident had happened to the train from which he had been so abruptly hurried by his son. The car in which thev had been riding had broken coose, been hurled down an embankment, and wrecked. Only two or three men were in the car at the time, and they, being awake, had sprung nimbly and saved them- selves, though almost by a miracle. A few persons in another car were jolted and disconcerted, but no one was hurt. The train was thrown into disorder, and part of the track torn up ; so that the railway would not be passable for a few hours. It was evident to Mr. Lawrence that, had he been in the car with his wife and child at the time of the accident, they must have suffered a cruel death, or else have es- caped horribly mangled. Suppose that they had not been asleep, he would still have met with great difficulty in saving them before the doomed car went to destruction. They owed their preservation then, first, to Divine Providence ; secondly, to Will's blunder. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were not slow to acknowledge this, and the boy perceived that, at last, his worth was appreciated. In process of time the night wore away ; the road was repaired ; and father, mother, and son, pursuing their journey, reached home early in the morning. Mr. Lawrence's business was not " ruined," after all ; for the man whom he wished to see was also detained by the accident, but finally made his appearance ; and the business, which was really of importance, was soon con- uluded. ^ tl hi b e^ VI WHEREAS. 33 The three slept peacefully and soundly afterwards, for the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours had ex- hausted them. From that time forward Mr. Lawrence generally passed by Will's blunders without rebuke ; for he had determin- ed not to reprove the boy again, unless it should be a vital necessity. In this wav it chanced that Will's childish blunder happened for the best, after all. Whereas these two chapters are merely expletive, — that is, are as useful as the word it in the following verse : *' For the deck it was their field of fame," — it would be better to say no more about this blunder of Will's, but commence the story proper. Chapter III. Will's Native Village. Anothkr period in Weill's life has come. He is no longer a little boy, but an agile, robust, crop-headed youngster of fourteen. He has by no means outgrown the eri'ors of his childhood : on the contrary, they stick to him more closely than ever ; and to speak of Will without referring to them is — well, is merely a matter of courtesy. His parents have given up all hope of his ever ceasing to make blunders — in fact, they have come to ex- pect nothing but blunders from him. They are no longer surprised at whatever he does, or at whatever happens to him ; they would be more surprised to see him live with- out making blunders than at whatever might befall ; and remembering how fortunate was his blunder on the train a few years before, they no longer find fault with him. It would be foolish, however, to detail all the minor adventures through which he passed — foolish and tire- some to the reader. Still, it must not be taken for 84 A BLUNDERING BOY. granted that all Will's troubles rose from blunders, as many of them rose from such mishaps as might happen to any boy. In order to make the incidents related in this story perfectly intelligible, it will be necessary to give a rambl- ing description of the neighborhood in which they took place. Mr. Lawrence's farm was a short distance out of a busy and flourishing village, built on one of the great lakes of America. His home, as well as a few cottages belonging to him, was within the limits of this village. His farm was highly cultivated and full stocked, and a railway ran through it and then on through the village. To these natural advantages add that Mr. Lawrence was an intelligent man and practical farmer, knowing how to improve his opportunities, and it will be seen that he was well situated. As for the village itself, it contained the ordinary num- ber of inhabitants and hotels. Here lived " the most skilful dentist in the state "; but so modest was he that what was formerly a barrister's office (this will define the size of the apartment) served him admirably for a " dentistry "; while an upper room in the same building, " artistically fitted up," served him for a " photographic gallery." Here lived '' the most expert ball-player out of New York." But his business was not to play ball ; — rather, he did not follow it as a profession ; — he kept a " Yankee notions store," with a hanging aquarium in the window, and brewed soda-water and ice-ci-eam. In this gentleman's " salon " many a rustic indulged with his first dish of ice cream, eating it at the rate of two exceedingly small spoonfuls a minute. His actions and the expression of his countenance declared that it was monotonous, cold, and doubtful enjoyment ; but the village papers, the expert ball-player, and public opinion, told him that it is an extraordinary delicacy, and he tried hard to believe so. The rustic would sometimes bring along his sweet- heart. Then he ate his ice cream still more slowly ; but probably it tasted better. Two newspapers (so-called) were printed here, and the villagers could tell you that ■'. I EX-EDITORS. 85 each one had hec^n the pecuniary ruin of six or seven editors. These ex-editors still lived in the neighborhood, — some as bookkeepers, others as insurance agents, — a warning to all right-minded men to soar higher (or lower) than the editorship of a village newspaper. But no one heeded the warning, and no sooner did an editor become in- solvent or entangled in a libel suit than somebody else was ready to " assume the arduous duty of conducting the publication." So long as the new editor had means, ex- celled in bombast and calumny, was sound in his political creed and could make vigorous attacks on his " contem- porary," wh'/ supported the doctrines of the other party, all went well for a time ; but t-ooner or later the end came and then one more ex-editor was thrown upon the people of the village. Ihe principal buildings were the bank, the churches, the town hall, the livery stable, the fulling-mill, the chair- factory, the fork -factory, the Columbia foundry, the hotels, and several private residences. The village had also its harbor, where vessels plying their trade on the lakes might worry through the roughest gale that the most talented writer of nautical romances ever conjured But there was nothing remarkable respecting either its site, its size, the regularity or magniticence of its buildings, its commercial importance, or its antiquity. Fui ther, it was not known to history. A very large stream, or small river, flowed through the village, emptying into the lake. (To be still more accur- ate : the people of this particular village customarily called it " the river "; while the base and envious inhabi- tants of the neighboring villages — through which flowed no such stream — took special pains to call it " a creek.") Several mills of different kinds bordered this river, adding to the credit and vigor of the place. About three miles up from its mouth there was a large and natural waterfall, a favorite resort of the villagers and country people. The current above these falls was not very swift, but it would be perilous indeed to be swept over them Shrubs, and at intervals, trees; gay little boat-houses, 86 A BLUNDERING BOY. f I' ^ li i where the ground sloped gradually to the water's edge ; in the background couimodious, ornamental, and preten- tious dwelling houses, habitations, or villas ; — such dotted the right bank of the river above the falls, presenting a fine appearance from the left bank. This stream affording good fishing, sportsmen often came to it from a distance. But they generally lost more in cuticle, clothing, and valuables, than they gainedin fish, sport, or glory ; and it was remarked that they never returned after the third time. There were many considerations why the water below the falls was not the principal play -ground of the juven- iles. Being within the village, swimming was out of the question ; on account of sundry sunken logs and other obstructions, they could not paddle about secure and tranquil on the crazy old rafts and scows ; and lastly, almost the whole stretch of water below the falls lay open to the mothers' watchful eyes, and the boys did not feel inclined to jeopard their lives within sight of those mothers. To some fastidious youths the water, perhaps, was too dirty, or " roily." Above the falls, however, all was different. On the upper part of the river no one ever molested the young- sters, unless they did something atrocious ; here they might swim and paddle up and down the river as much as they pleased ; for, in general, the banks were high, and bushes, rank grass and reeds and other screens intervened, shutting them off from outsiders. The river was wide and deep at tlie falls, but above them it grew narrow and shallow littl.: by little. Five miles up it was a mere brook. Throughout this long stretch the water was so clear that the most fastidious did not hesitate even to drink it ; and there were secluded places that as swimming-places could not be equalled. At the falls the water was so deep as easily to float over any log or brush-wood that might come into the river from its banks, its source, or other streams. One particular spot — a clump of evergreens, where forget-me-nots sprang up in all their beauty, and where Nature was seen at her best — was held sacred to lovers, A PAxUDISE FOR BOYS. 37 's edge ; d preten- 2h dotted renting a 3n often ost more (Jin fish, y never ere ere irs, But there were many parts of the river to which the boys stoutly maintained their claim and of which no one was so hard-hearted as to dispossess them. And oh ! crowning joy ! there was an island in the river I At this the reader may thliik that we are trifling with liis feelings ; imposing on his credulity ; — he may even refuse to believe in the existence of so extraordinary a river. Never mind. But if the reader wishes to enjoy these pages he will refuse to listen to the dictates of reason, and look on this story as an orthodox romance. In winter there was another attraction, that of skat- ing, the danger of which was a continual source of uneasiness to parents whose youth, agility, and frolic- someness had long before given place to gray hairs, clumsiness, and sober-mindedness. As the proprietors of the land along the river were generous hearted men, the river was free to all people, and was an actual paradise for boys and picnickers. Although further remarks might be made about this river, it is not necessary to make them here. It is suffi- cient to add that as the reader proceeds, he will observe how admirably this river is adapted to the exigencies of the story. This was the state of affairs in Will's boyhood. But, alas ! all has changed since that time. A foreign aristo- crat has bought up all the land along the river, which he has fenced in, stocked with fish and beautified — perhaps, disfigured — with sundry little wharfs, capes, bays, stretches of " pebbly beach," and floating islands. In conspicuous places notices may be seen, beginning with " No Trespassing " and winding up with the amount of the fine imposed on all persons " caught lurking within the limits." Consequently, the urchins of to-day, de- spoiled of this haunt, have to content themselves with damaging the notices and slinging stones at the swans that sail gracefully up and down the river. There were also smaller streams in the neighborhood, one being in Mr. Lawrence's farm. To the left of the village stood an extensive grove, swarming with Fcjuirrels, birds, iiisects, and, of course. 1 i i •! i i i • ! ' ,. ■ '; ; '■' i 1 -i i ; f 1 i i i !:' . d8 A BLUNDERING BOY. mosquitoes. Jn this grove the heroes of this story whiled away many a happy }iour ; and when not on the river tliey might generally be found here. The lake also was a favorite resort, and on its broad surface they sailed or rowed hither and thither ; always getting wet, often narrowly escaping death. Sometimes their joyous hearts were elated with a ride on a tug ; but when hard pressed they made almost anything serve them for a boat. As naturally as a duck takes to water. Will and his associates took to making little ships, which excited the admiration of all beholders — sometimes on account of their beauty, but generally on account of their liability to float stern foremost, with the masts at an angle of twenty degrees. Then there was the school-house, — a fanciful, yet im- posing edifice, the grained and polished jambs of whose muUioned windows had suftered from the ravages rather of jack-knives than of time, — built in a retired quarter of the village, and to the boys' entire satisfaction, quite close to the river. If Will wished to go to the wharf he could walk thither in less than half-an-hour ; to the depot in ten minutes ; to the school, — well, in from twenty to forty minutes. To Mrs. Lawrence's delight, it was nearly two miles from their house to the falls. She had not the heart to forbid Will's going thither, but she fondly hoped that the dis- tance would not permit him to go very often ; for, according to her view of the matter, water and danger are synonymous. But what are tw^o miles to a boy, when a waterfall, a limpid ai. : gleaming river, boats, crazy rafts, plenty of fish, and other boys, are the attractions ? In fact, the time was never known, not even to that venerable per- sonage, " the oldest inhabitant," in which a boy might not be seen about those falls. It is not strange that the youth of this village were happy, when Nature had done so much for them. BUFFOON. 39 Chapter IV. The Heroes of tfis History Having given this slight and imperfect description of Will's native place, his school-fellows must now be intro- duced. The boy whom he liked best was Charles Growler ; a youth of his own age, but possessed with greater abilities, and a universal favorite in the village. Charles was nimble, strong, and good-natured ; ready for any adven- ture or exploit, and the very soul of drollery. No matter what might happen he never lost his temper, his presence of mind, or his keen humor. He was a very brave boy, rushing headlong into every kind of danger. In fact, the boys admitted that they had never known him to be afraid. He and Will entered school at the same time and had kept together in all their studies. There was no jealousy or rivalry between them, nothing but a quiet and laud- able competition, which stimulated each one to do his best. When one could assist the other he did so willingly and gladly. No boy ever had a more sincere friend than Will in Charles or Charles in Will. And yet this boy Charles was nicknamed " Buffoon." Not, however, on account of clownishness or monkey tricks, but simply on account of his love of fun. George Andrews was another boy of the village, asso- ciated with Will and Charles. He was a good boy, smart and shrewd, Vjut too much disposed to display his abilities and his knowledge. In his tender childhood he had overheard a weak-headed fellow dra wl out, " Yes, George will make an excellent scholard ; I guess he's a good scholard a' ready." This so tilled the young hero with self-conceit that he really believed that he, a mere boy, was indeed a scholar ! Firm in this belief, he never let slip an opportunity in which he might avail himself of his superior knowledge ; and having read a great deal in 40 A BLUNDERING BOY. .1 Mi ! I i i; ill I. all sorts of books, — particularly in certain musty and ponderous volumes that treated of everything under the sun — he was able to have his say, it made no difference what subject was being discussed. But, alas ! he was just as apt to be wrong as to be right ; and worse still, his information, like the Dutchman's wit, generally came too late to be duly appreciated. He i/s as a few months older than Will and Charles, and outstripped them both in his studies. The boys always rejoiced to have him accompany them — partly because of his actual cleverness, partly because of his immoderate self-conceit, as it was very amusing to hear him hold forth on a subject of which he really was totally ignorant. Not at all to his disinclination this boy was dubbed " the Sage." Mamiaduke Baldwin Alphonso Fitz-Williams was a youth, the grandeur of whose name drove abashed Johns and Thomases almost to phrensy. But the name befitted the boy, for even at his tender age his mind was occupied with strange thoughts. He delighted in the romantic ; indeed, he had lived in an atmosphere of romance from his baptism. This heavy cloud of romance obscured the boy's ideas, and sometimes caused him to speak and act more like a hero of fiction than was seemly. When alone he would slide his hand into his bosom over his heart, whenever the weight of romance and mystery was more than ordinarily oppressive, and if his heart beat fast he was satisfied with himself. The boy who detects the conception of a nocturnal robbery or murder in a stranger's eye, simply because he [the cautious stranger] slips his hand stealthily into his " pistol pocket," — in this case the breast pocket — to assure himself that his watch is still there, is a remarkably shrewd member of the human race, whose genius and acuteness should be diligently fostered. And such a boy was Marmaduke. But it was neither fear nor idiocy that caused him to think thus ; it was only an extravagant imagination. Marmaduke and George resembled each other in many particulars : each one was prompt to arrive at startling conclusions ; each one believed himself equal to any A BOY WITH A LONG NAME. 41 emergency ; but George was far more practical than Marmaduke. Each of these boys took pleasure in learn- inor, and each one manifested a puerile eagerness to let people see how well informed he was. For instance, they flattered themselves that they were accomplished grammarians, and when any reference was made to grammar both looked very knowing, as much as to say that they apprehended what was meant. Marmaduke had a strong will of his own, but, by manoeuvring artfully, Charles could generally make him look at things from his point of view. The boys took advantage of his love for the marvellous to play mean tricks on him ; but when he found that they were mak- ing game of him, he flew into a passion, and made himself ridiculous. Poor boy ! Though he is called Marmaduke in this book, his poetic names were too long for everybody except his parents ; and while his teachers called him Mark, the school-boys called him '• Marmalade," or " Dreamer," or something else quite as appropriate and scurrilous. Some envious little Smith's and Green's did not scruple to call him " Fitty." Next on the list is Stephen Goodfellow, one of the the most important characters in the tale. He was a fun-loving-fellow, fertile in devices, an adept at repartee, and too light-hearted to be serious for more than five consecutive minutes. In a word, he was the most nimble, sprightly, ingenious and good-natured boy in the village. At the same time he was the most reckless of all boys, taking pride in rushing blindly into danger. Indeed, he artected a stoical contempt for every kind of danger; jumped backwards off empty schooners with his eyes shut ; made friends with the most unamiable and untract- able bull-dogs in the place ; lowered himself into deep, dismal, and unsafe old wells to wake the echoes with his bellowing voice, and busied himself about the punching and shearing machine, the steam engine, and the circular saws in the Columbia foundry. He knew every sailor of all the vessels that put into the harbor ; knew every engineer and brakeman on all the trains that passed 42 A BLUNDERING BOY. •i i 1 i fi« ill i'li iU through the village ; knew the name and disposition of every respectable dog within the corporation ; knew just where to look for the best raspberries and the most desir- able tish-worms ; but he didn't know an adversative con- junction from an iambic pentameter. To be acquainted with this boy was to like him. By Will and Charles he was actually beloved, and there was a mutual and lasting affection between him and all our heroes. He w^s always ready to lend them his counsel and assistance when agitating their dark schemes, and when any waggish trick was m view, or when anything ludicrous was going on, his approval and support were the first consideration. Some of the urchins tried to equal Stephen's feats of dexterity and to ape his sallies and w himsicalness ; but it could not be done, and they only exposed themselves to his derision and made them- selves more envious and unhappy than before. Stephen was familiarly known as "Stunner"; which, being offen- sively vulgar, we, out of respect for the reader's feelings, have transposed into Steve. If this were the history of a sailor-boy, Steve would assuredly be the hero ; and we should eulogize him so unweariedly and enthusiastically that the heroes of romance, goaded to frenzy by the praise thus lavished on him, would commission their ghosts to haunt us. But Steve has nothing to do with sailor-boys ; and as we do not wish to incur the displeasure of such heroes, — much less the displeasure of their ghosts, — or to compel any- body to fall in love with him, it will be the wisest course to leave it for impartial readers to praise him or to con- demn him, to love him or to detest him, as their judgment may determine. George and Marmaduke, to the best of their ability, cul- tivated the science of graynmar ; Stephen cultivated, the art of disTtiemberiiig grammars, and of blazoning their fly-leaves with hideous designs of frolicsome sea-serpents ; wrecked schooners ; what seemed to be superb pagan temples suffering from the effects of an earthquake ; crazy old jades painfully drawing along glittering circus vans, with coatless little boys-^some took them for monkeys, DRAWING EXTRACilOINARY. 43 but probably they were Circus prodigies — sitting in the roof and driving ; and all sorts of monstrosities. We say grammars : Stephen's designs were to be found chiefly in them. But he was no niggard of his illustrations ; for, to his noble nature, it mattered little whether the book which he illuminated belonged — so long as it was old and dilapidated — to himself or to somebody else. Last and least was James Horner. He was an infam- ous coward — in fact, so infamous that although fifteen years old, even a sudden and loud sound would unstring liis nerves and twitch his facial muscles. As a natural consequence, he very often heard sudden and loud sounds — in fact, he heard all sorts of hideous and unaccountable sounds. But the boy was by no means an entire fool ; and he made greater progress at school than might be expected. It is a lamentable fact — which, however, must be chronicled — that his playfellows studied to excite his fears, and played off some of their most farcical, sly, and atrocious tricks on him. Will and Charles had too much self-respect and sound moral principle to snub the boy ; but Steve seemed to take a savage delight in snubbing him and in turning him into ridicule. But, though many a sportive trick was played on him, his confidence in man- kind was still so great that he was very easily deceived, it made no difference how often he was mocked. In this confidence the others might well have copied after him. On the other hand, his disposition was unamiable, and under undue provocation he was a dangerous boy, who could harbour revenge. Nevertheless, he hardly ever ventured to interfere with the boys' schemes, but blindly and humbly followed wherever, they might lead. Why our heroes tolerated his company can be explained on only two grounds : first, because they liked to play tricks on him ; secondly, because this history requires such a character. When not called Jim, this abused lad was branded " Timor," which shows how notorious he was for cowardice. But in process of time this classical gem became corrupted by the ignoiant into " Tim." These five were the school-fellows and associates of Will, and generally the six might be found together. It 44 A BLUNDERING BOY. was only natural that they should quarrel sometimes ; but, for the most part, they were at peace with themselves and all other boys. They were all full of mischievous- ness, but taking everything into consideration, were as free from sin as boys can be. There is another youth that figures in this tale — Will's cousin Henry. He is perhaps the most distinguished hero. However, it is not yet time for him ; and as it is dogmatically and impolitically observed a few pages back that it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate, he must not yet be introduced. l-^ 1 Chapter V. An Unpleasant Ride for Will. One bright morning Will mounted a frisky little pony which had been reared on the farm, and had always been considered Will's own — not till Mr. Lawrence might see fit to sell it, but for all time. The pony was young and unaccustomed to a rider; but Will and his father thought it would be prudent to ride it on the road. In this belief, however, they were mistaken, for the horse no sooner found himself on the open road than he set forward on a wild gallop. At first this was very pleasant, and Will enjoyed it heartily ; but when he at- tempted to check the animal's speed a little, he became aware that it was past his control. "Whoa,CioIt! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Will screamed beseechingly. This only incited Go It to greater efforts, and he re- doubled his speed ; while Will collected his wits, stopped, shouting at the refractory animal, and exerted all his strength and dexterity to maintain his equilibrium in the saddle. The mettlesome horse was soon galloping at a furious rate ; and the luckless rider seeing no one to whom he could appeal for help, gave himself up as lost, and endeavored to prepare for the worst. IDLE DECLAMATION. 46 Very soon he drew near a company of little ragged orphan boys, squatting in the imperfect shade of a rail fence that boarded the road, gingerly sticking pins into their ears and assiduously polishing their war-worn jack- knives in the soil. These heroic little ones involuntarily dropped their instruments of torture and diversion, and beheld horseman and horse with ecstatic admiration and delight. Then they collected themselves and cheered — cheered so lustily that the horse snorted with fright, wheeled to the }eft, and vaulted over the fence at a single bound — a feat which called forth a roar of acclamation from the delighted juveniles. " Can't he jump ! " chuckled the sharpest one. " Jump ? " echoed another. " Guess he can ; beats dT circus horse all hollow ! " " I wihh he'd jump again," sighed the smallest one. " Ah," exclaims the punctilious penman of romances which have lofty and sonorous titles, becoming solemnity, inflated and funereal style, and blood-freezing adventures — which, alas ! too often end in smoke, or at most, in a marriage that any fool could have foreseen — '• Ah, how can this paltry scribbler, this ' we,' discouri?e with this shameless levity, when his hero is face to face with death ! " Instead of evading the penman's intended question, the following significant and sapient comments are oti'ered for his leisurely consideration : It is sheer nonsense for a writer to work himself up into a state of mad excitement about the "imminent dangers " that continually dog the foot-steps of his perse- cuted heroes. So long as the hero is of the surviving kind, he will survive every " imminent danger," no matter how thick and fast such dangers may crowd upon him. No assassin was ever hired that could kill him for any great length of time ; no vessel ever foundered that could efi'ectively swallow him up ; no bullet was ever run that could be prevailed on to extinguish the spark of his life. After making such comments, for the reader's peace of mind we deliberately affirm that ever man, woman, and child figuring in this tale, is equally imperishable. Hav- '■I'.t . 46 A BLUNDERING BOY. 1 ' ' > ■1 ( ill '^' ing made this candid remark, ttie reader cannot impute it to us if he spend a sleepless night while perusing this tale. But it would be wiser to drop idle declamation for the present, and return to Will and his frisky pony. When the horse so nimbly cleared the fence, Will's feet were torn out of the stirrup, and he was thrown violently off the animal's back. As he lay sprawling on the ground, he looked as little like a hero as can be imagined. As may be supposed, however, when he struggled to his feet he was as sound as ever. On casting a glance around him, he found himself in a field of ripe grain, through which the riderless pony was rushing madly. • Perhaps a good romancer, regardless of reason and effect, would have made the boy " heroically " stick to his horse through thick and thin. But a more careful romancer, like a good physician, would have aa eye to the boy's system and feelings, and not suffer him to be tortured any longer. Will carefully rubbed the dirt off his clothes with the palm of his trembling right hand, while his eyes darted tierce glances at the gaping and grinning juveniles out- side of the fence, and despairing glances at his horse within the field. This nice operation consumed three minates, and might have consumed many more; but a man who was at hand flew to the rescue. A blustering old harvester, the man who worked the field, saw the forlorn young cavalier standing dejectedly by the fence, and the frolicsome pony plunging through the ripe grain, and straightway fumed with awful indig- nation. His first proceeding was to catch and stop the pony, after which he turned his attention to Will. Will advanced a step or so to meet the puffing farmer and the quaking horse, and was about to mumble his thanks, when the farmer snappishly cut him short, crying hoarsely : " You miserable scamp ! How dare you jump into my fields like this ? See, will you, what damage your beast has done ! " "But, sir," said Will, " it is not my fault at all ; it is aa WILL S AGE, accident. The pony ran away with me, as you yourself can see." ' Accident ? What have I to do with your accidents ? Don't you know better than to ride runaway horses ? Don't you " "Course he tlon't; don't know beans;" yelled one of the little gamins, euv-^ouraged by the farmer's bullying words to speak his mind. Or perhaps he thought to win favor with the farmer by reviling the hapless horseman. " Course," chimed in the one who lost and found the most jack-knives. " Course, what business did he want to git on to a runaway horse for anyway ? " "I wish I had a horse, too," whined the most "in- genuous " one. "Guess he aint — " " Stop that!" thundered the farmer. " Stop that, and get away from this!" The little coves snatched up their jack-knives, but did not stop to look for their pins, and darted off without a word. They ran a few yards and then squatted in the shade of another fence corner. The incensed farmer, also, meekly followed by Will leading the horse, moved farther up the border of the field. When they halted. Will a second time said it was all an accident. " Accident or not, I'll put the law on your track, I will you awful sneak ! See here, how old are you ! " " I shall be fifteen in September," said Will, with boyish eagerness to appear as old as possible. " I didn't ask how old you would be in the future, nor how young you were in the past," snapped the furrow- faced chuff. Will always kept a careful account of his age, and consequently was able to answer promptly : " My age, then, is fourteen years, ben months, and seven days." " Very good," said the farmer. " Well, I am only calculating," he added slowly and coolly, " whether you are old enough to be sent to jail." Doubtless, the hard-hearted wretch expected to see 48 A BLUNDERING BOT. ih 1^ ■I yi - ■i I |i I Will blanch at this implied threat. But, if so, he was wofully disappointed, Will having his own motives for maintaining his equanimity. " You shall be punished, that is certain," continued the farmer. " Come along, now ; don't stand there like a stationary scarecrow ; come along." Even as the violent old fellow spoke, he made a move- ment to seize Will by the coat-collar. But this was more than human nature could bear ; and with a nimbleness that defied capture, Will sprang back, stood his ground within nine feet of his persecutor, and began boldly : " If you mean for me to leave this field, sir, I am quiU willing to do it ; but it is not necessary for you to be so rough with me. Because my horse jumped over the fence and trampled the grain a little, you needn't treat me like a convict. You yourself have trampled nearly as much as my horse ; and the whole put together doesn't amount to much." " Stop there ! " cried the farmer. " I was obliged to tramp the grain to catch your horse. I didn't wait for you to do it," insultingly. " Yes, sir," Will said humbly, " my head was bumped pretty hard. My father will settle your account, but if you would like to put me into prison, don't let my youth interfere with that " Meanwhile, Will was leading his pony towards a gate in the fence, which he reached as he finished speaking. The farmer, who followed close behind, said sharply, " You are a pretty fellow to use such language as all this to me ; and it is only a waste of breath for you to speak at all. According to you, it was great bravery to jump my fences and rush through my oats ; but the law will think otherwise, and as certainly as I live, you shall be clapped into prison, or else pay whatever sum I may choose to fine you. I swear it." " That is only what I can expect," Will said resignedly. " Oh, you think I am not in earnest, perhaps, but you will soon find that I mean exactly what I say. What's your name ? " he asked, abruptly and uaeasily, ai^ if struck with a Sudden suspicion. " William Lawrence." ■ A LITTLE JOKE. 49 The questioner was literally stupified. A look of dis- may overspread his grim visage, and he stared helplessly at Will, as it' the boy had been metamorphosed into a devouring monster. For a full minute the jurist was mute, and when he did speak, meekness had entirely taken the place of bravado. " You'll excuse my little jest, won't you, Mr. Lawrence ? It is a shabby trick to joke so seriously, I know ; but it was only an idle joke, and doesn't signify anything. I }V(ts some vexed' to see the horse racing through the grain, hut only for an instant. How thankful we ought to be that you escaped unhurt ! To be sure, it was rather venturesome for me to rush forward and stop the furious horse," he said, guilefully. " but that is nothing compared with your gallantry in keeping your seat so heroically. In fnct, Mr. Lawrence, I may say, without flattery, that you are a real hero, and that this agilelittlepony of yours is the most spirited that I ever saw. Indeed, he's worth his weight in gold ! Why, he vaulted over this fence like — like —like a bird ! " In spite of himself, Will, nearly laughed at this labored simile. But he was a strange boy, ami enjoyed the faculty of suppressing his laughter till he pleased to discharge it. Then he would laugh so uproariously that whoever chanced to overhear him took him for a merry lunatic. But there were other considerations why Will did not laugh at the suppliant joker. In his turn he was as- tonished, astonished at the reckless indifference with which the man could lie. But he was not to be cajoled so easily ; boy though he was, such oratory made no impression qn him, and he continued unmoved, even when deferentially addressed as " Mr. Lawrence." Seeing that Will made no reply, the depraved wretch pursued in the following strain : " I should like you not to mention this joke of mine, for already I have the name of being an incorrigible practical joker. Besides," sub- tilely, " you would not like the boys to taunt you about this runaway." " Oh, I think I saw several boys looking at me as I flew along," Will, replied carelessly, " and before this they 3 V 50 A BLUNDERING BOY must know all about the runaway. Very likely the little boys that moved up towards the village have spread the news, and perhaps they have told the beginning of your joke," artlessly. " At any rate, I must tell my father of this capital joke, Mr. Jackson, for he likes nothing better thon a good joke." The farmer now began to suspect that Will was nearly as shrewd as he himself; and seeing how useless it was to pahn off his threats as a little joke, he abruptly took a different course, and said, with marked and significant emphasis, " See here, Mr. Lawrence, I do not wish to frighten you ; but promise not to mention this, and I will let' the matter drop." Will believed that he, also, could use emphasis ~nd said, with what he meant to be great significance : " l?ou have not frightened me, Mr. Jackson, because I knew you as soon as you came up to me. It isn't worth while for me to promise anything, for there is my father climbing the | fence up near the little boys, and they're speaking to him. * This way, pa," the poor boy shouted, with exultant and heartfelt thankfulness. Mr. Jackson looked hopelessly in the direction pointed out by Will, and muttered doggedly, " Baffled by a boy 1 1 He didn't believe in that kind of a joke, eh ! Yes, that's | where I overshot the mark." How it was that Mr. Lawrence so seasonably hove in sight will be explained further on. The writer, in common with all staunch romancers, bears a rooted and virulent hatred to villains, and wishes to dismiss this one as soon I as possible, though he (this villain) is to appear again in | the next chapter. Mr. Jackson blanched when Will gave his name, but! now he grew black, and seemed to be overwhelmed with | consternation. He felt too cowardly even to run away I Mr. Lawrence soon joined them, and his first question] was, " Will, are you hurt? " " Only a very little, pa," said Will. " How thankful I am for that ! " Mr, Lawrence exclaim- 1 ed fervently. "You must have had a narrow escape, however." I. THE PRACTICAL JOKER ILL AT EASE. 61 y the little jpread the ig of your ' father of ling better pvas nearly less it was ptly took a significant )t wish to , and I will 8 and said, " "Vou have lew you as lile for me mbing the ing to him. ultant and on pointed by a boy I Yes, that's )ly hove in in common d virulent :>ne as soon i ar again in | name, but elmed withj run awav 'st question ce exclaim! •ow escape, " A very narrow escape," Mr. Jackson echoed tremu- lously. Mr. Lawrence, assured of his son's safety, now directed his attention to the farmer. " Well, Mr. Jackson," he said suddenly, " what seems to be the matter ? " This blunt question so unsettled the practical joker's mind that he faltered, and at last said, v'ith much emotion : "Matter, Mr. Lawrence? — Why, it, it was — you see — I mean, he came, — that is, the horse — the horse — the horse, the horse, the horse, the horse " Seeing that the embarassed man was likely to continue repeating these two words till delirium set in, or till his t< )ngue whizzed equal to the fly-wheel of a powerful steam- engine, Will cut him short by saying, with pardonable spite : " Pa, he's trying to tell you that he wants pay for the damage that Oo It did." To many pei*sons this might have been unintelligible, but not so to Mr. Lawrence. Gathering a hint from the little boys' gibberish, at a single glance he had taken in xll that had happened, and knowing the violence of Jack- son's temper, he could gue.ss at what had passed between him and Will. " Let us have a settlement, Mr. Jackson," he said. The farmer seemed to have lost his wits ; he could not carry it high, as he had done with Will. Mistaking the tone in which Mr. Lawrence spoke, and impelled by a guilty conscience, he dropped on his knees and said plead- ingly, "Oh, don't turn us all out; don't turn us all out! Don't sue me ; I'll — I'll pay all the rent ! " Further comment is needless ; the reader will now readily understand why Mr. Jackson's roughness gave place to humbleness and wheedling when he heard Will's name, and why he so dreaded an interview with Mr. Lawrence. The latter gentleman spoke kindly to the supplicant. "Come, come, Jackson," he said, "don't behave like that. In this free country you shouldn't play the spaniel to any man. I promise that I will not bring an action yet ; I will grant you one more chance. But come to the house to-morrow, and we can talk over the matter at leisure. 62 A BLUNDERING BOY. 1^ i f l> I Don't explain ; I see just what lias happened to my head- long boy ; but so long as he is not hurt, I am satisfied. As you hardly know him, I can, from your looks and his, figure the scene you have had. Now, I don't like him to be abused by — but no; nevermind that; it can be pocket- ed. As for the actual damage done, I think you will admit that ten dollars will settle your claims, and I am going to pay it to you." Mr. Jackson gathered himself up, looking crestfallen and foolish, and was so penetrated with gratitude that he refused the money, till forced to receive it. According to Mr. Lawrence's notions the man would now be induced to make strenuous exertions to pay all that he owed. Father, son, and pony, now started for home. Having made their way out of the gate into the road, Will foun ' the forlorn little gamins, hungering for even a glimpse of the frolicsome leaper, still lingering in their second position. Poor little fellows, they had not ventured even to climb the fence. They knew Mr. Jaijkson — and Mr. Jackson knew them. They cast reverent glances at Go It, but they beheld Will as one might behold a traveller re- turned in safety from a voyage to the planets. " I'll bet he ketched it ! " muttered a light-legged member of the group, with a chuckle that disclosed ho spoke from bitter experience. " Won't the rest of 'eni wish the}'' 'd seen this show ! " The horse Mr. Lawrence had )"idden was tied near these urchins. Both mounted him, and then, leading the runaway and headstrong horse, the picturesque cavalcade set off*. " Pa," said Will, " I'm sorry this happened, and that you had to pay out that money." " No, Will ; say nothing about that. I blame myself for letting you mount the half-broken nag; I should have had more prudence. But tell me how it all w^as, and just what Jackson said to you." Will did so ; and in the recital he waxed so eloquent that the rogue wf'Z set forth in his true colors, and ap- peared so frightful a monster that Will himself shivered with horror. MORE DECLAMATION. 53 ny head- fied. As and his, :e him to J pocket- you will nd I am estfallen e that he 3rding to iduced to Having ill foun ' glimpse r second ired even -and Mr. ; at Go It, seller re- lit-legged osed he t of eni ;ied near iding the avalcade that you B myself [ should all was, eloquent and ap- shivered Mr. Lawrence groaned, but, with great presence of mind, said instantly : " Don't shake so, Will, or you will lose your balance. Oh, if I had known this sooner, I should have dono differently ! But it is too late now to punish the unprincipled wretch." The reader, perhaps, is curious to know how it was that Mr. Lawrence arrived so opportunely. When too late to call him back, he saw that Will was utterly unable to manage the pony. IS ot stopping to answer any questions, he hastened to the stable, threw himself on the fastest horse, and gave chase. Will, of course, was far in ad- vance, but Mr. Lawrence easily ran him down, and found him in Jackson's field, as related. Mr. Jackson made his appearance at the time appoint- ed ; and although he brought only a part of the rent due, his deportment was so humble and respectful ; his pro- mises were so fair and encouraging ; and hisapologies were so ingenious, yet in reality so hollow and ridiculous, that Mr. Lawrence's indignation was softened ; and the wretch was heard and dismissed with a mock and stiff politeness that galled him. Mr. Lawrence was very forbearing with such of his tenants as were hard pressed ; but this man's threats to Will had provoked him extremely, and now, as he brood- ed over his wrongs, he determined, as soon as the change could be effected, to lease the farm to a more honorable man. When a romancer reaches the colophon of his book, he is the most virtuous of men, the most impartial of judges, parcelling out reward and judgment with superhuman justice. Now, according to the laws of romance, Mr. Jackson, in cutting that field of oats, ought to be thrown from his reaping machine, and so cruelly mangled that his most implacable foe would melt into tears of anguish. But, alas ! it cannot be, as unkind fate compels us to bring him once more before the reader. n I p 54 A BLUNDERING BOY. Chapter VI. Steve's Retaliation. The news of this, Will's latest exploit, spread among the village boys, and reached Steve's ears. This worthy felt sorry for Will — so sorry that a bright idea struck him. " Here's a fine chance to show Will how much 1 think of him ! " he mused radiantly. " Yes, I'll get a whole gang of us boys together, and we'll swoop down on the old villain, and we'll do it ! Oh ! what roaring fun it will be ! I guess it'll teach the old loon to leave honest boys alone ! " Steve began to work with a will, and soon mustered a squad of idle and saucy little wretches, who sported Guy Fawkes' head-pieces, and were not overstocked with either virtue or clothing. Nevertheless, their apparel had at least one merit — it could be slipped on or stripped off in a trice. Moonlight would be too bright for his dark schemes, and he waited impatiently for a starlight night. Three days passed with unheard of slowness. Then Steve con- voked a council of his satellites ; and after having en- joined a promise of secrecy, he laid bare his plot in all its details, and asked if they would stand by him. " Guess we will ! " they chorused, mad with delight ; and Steve needed no further assurance of their co-opera- tion and fidelity. About seven o'clock this worthy young avenger set out, his " gang " at his heels, and one of the heroes who had seen Will taken over Jackson's fence bringing up the rear. This warlike company had no drums, but their fast-beating hearts served instead ; and they marched in- \ trepidly onward, measuring three miles an hour. Some were burdened with sundry stout cords, ropes and straps ; others were sweating under armfuls of pine and cedar I boughs, which Steve had gathered that afternoon ; one rei iil AT THE SEAT OF WAR. 55 3ad among lis worthy Jea struck eh 1 think it a whole ivn on tlie ing fun it Eive honest [nustered a )orted Guy eked with ipparel had | stripped off k schemes, ht. Three Steve con- having en- ot in all its delight ; r co-opera- venger set leroes whoi ring up the but their! larched in- jur. Some md straps ; ; and cedar] :noon ; one lank stripling was poising a couple of wooden levers on his grimy palms ; Stephen himself was freighted with a clumsy engine, which he fondly imagined was a piece of wondrous mechanism — in fact, one of the six mechanical powers. Having left the village, they struck out for a pasturage about a mile and a half to the right. Captain Stephen directed his forces to march in single tile. In vain : they were but raw levies, and in spite of all his discipline, would persist in straggling or in huddling together. But in I good time they drew up at the seat of war, with every regiment intact, and eager to engage the enemy. As the atrocities they practiced there are unworthy of the most abandoned renegate, it would be more seem- ly to lay aside martial idioms, — particularly, as we do not wish to commit ourself, — and speak of them as Steve's minions. They peered warily — perhaps, quakingly — to the {right and left, but not seeing any bugbears, human or otherwise, they boldly and jauntily flung themselves over [the fence of the pasture field. Steve advanced a few steps, then halted, laid his bur- Id en gently on the ground, and whistled a sigh of relief. His followers threw down their burdens ; and, after hav- ing ejected a great deal of spittle — purposely on their jhands, accidently on the ground, — they raised a grating rye-oh-heave er," that reminded the "mournful whip- Ipoor-will " of a rooster's first crow. Now they were jready to go to work. In front of them was an old well ; disused, perfectly Idry, and partly filled with rubbish. The top was covered pvith two layers of bulky and heavy planks, so that the 'ell was safe. Notwithstanding the number of workers, lit was no easy task to remove these planks ; but the Lvenger and his " gang " griped their handspikes, and [toiled, groaned, and pufted with a will. What is toil to a boy when mischief is on foot ? In lay there are no difficulties that a boy cannot surmount. lIi ! if he would only do his duty as willingly and effi- Mently as he builds a dam, how much happier he and )thers would be ! . :r 'ii ? 56 A BLUNDERING BOY. If i i' : As soon as the planks were removed, the boughs were dropped one by one, so evenly that they formed a soft couch, only twenty feet from the mouth of the well. Then Steve took up the engine he had constructed, and set it up over the well. This engine was neither more nor less than a thick and roundish bar of tough wood, with each end playing in the apex of a rude and frail scalene triangle. To impart strength and dignity to this contrivance, the triangles were connected at their base by a long and stout fork-handle ; but whether this fork- handle served to keep the triangles apart or to hold them together, Steve did not know. A triangle was placed on each side of the well's mouth, over which the bar and fork-handle directly passed. Steve pinned his triangles fast to the ground, but finding them still unsteady, he had them propped with the planks. Then he announced that it was ready for use. The bar revolved, it is true ; but somewhat reluctantly, and, alas ! it wabbled ! We have said that Steve considered his contrivance one of the six mechanical powers. Let us examine it further and see if he was right. It might have been in- tended for the wheel and axle ; but, if so, it lacked the wheel. Or perhaps it was the pulley, with an extremely elongated wheelless axle, the triangles taking the place of the block. " Now, boys," said the deviser of this novel engine, "see what comes from knowing science ! I learnt how to make this from George's Philosophy. It tells you all about powerful mechanics — no, mechanics powerful — no, — well, I guess it's all one in meaning. Now let us go to work." With a Zulu holloa they rushed towards a couple of donkeys that were grazing peaceably in the inclosure. It will not require a particularly long-headed reader to guess that these boys were trespassing on Mr. Jack- son's domains, or that the avenger sought to retaliate on him by means of the innocent donkeys. Steve endeavored ^o ward off the stings of conscience by telling himself that he was avenging Will ; while in reality he was indulging his love of fun and mischief. His warty and freckle-faced followers were actuated by the same motive. THE CAPTURE. 57 They surrounded the donkey nearest them, resolved to take it prisoner. After a violent conflict and four or five barked and bruised shins, — for the beast was agile, as well as headstrong, and resented this nocturnal abduc- tion, — the seizure was effected, and Stephen adroitly slipped on a halter. While some tugged at this halter, others pushed warily and perhaps bootlessly ; still others noisily threatened ; one entreated ; but, in compliance with their leader's instructions, none belabored. The school-boy avenger did not wish the poor animal to suffer '• more than was necessary ! " In a short time the donkey was brought close to the abandoned well. Then the cords, straps, and ropes were picked up, and so securely bound on the poor animal that it was utterly helpless, and at the mercy of Steve's youth- ful desperadoes. This was a hazardous attempt, consid- ering all things ; but again, what does a properly organized boy care for danger, when bent on mischief ? Stephen, weltering in sweat and already smarting from blisters and bruises, then called a halt and addressed his " accomplices " in the following approved strain : " Well, boys, we've nearly done it ! Oh ! won't Mr. Jackson be mad when he finds his donkey in the well ! Won't he dance and holler ! I know it's a scurvy trick ; but then he is so scurvy a man, it serves him just right. I guess he won't know what to say to himself when he sees the ass here ! At any rate, it will take him all the forenoon to get him out ! " Gentle reader, please to observe how rich that harangue is in notes of exclamation, and ask yourself if they were not invented as a safety-valve for the emotions of over- joyed schoolboys and bloody-minded or weak-headed romancers. While speaking, Steve had run his hands into the pockets of his most serviceable garment. He now drew his hands out of those pockets and took up a strong rope, one end of which he made fast to the donkey, and the other end he passed over the bar of his engine. Then, the rest helping him, the donkey was slowly and care- fully lowered into the well. Poor beast, how foully it was degraded ! f\ H m 68 A BLUNDERING BOY. I i Then those wicked boys laughed — laughed till the tears came. All but Steve. He could not laugh. The core of an apple that he had eaten seven years before rose in his throat and choked him — him ! the most uproarious and unconscionable laugher in the village ! But the truth is, Stephen was beginning to relent. Now that the deed was actually done, he saw his trick in a different light and conjured up all sorts of horrors. What if a frightful thunderstorm should come on during the night, and the donkey should be struck by light- ning ? What if the sides of the well should cave in and fossilize it ? Or, what if Jackson should discover the guilty ones and transport him, as " ringleader," to Botany Bay? These and many other disquieting thoughts rose in the boy's mind. He bitterly repented of his folly, and no longer considered himself a hero. He pitied the don- key with all his heart ; and if he had not shrunk from provoking the derision of his uncivil and hardhearted minions, he would have drawn it out of the well and turned it loose. Thus we get an insight into Stephen's nature. His love of fun often ran away with his better judgment; but as soon as the mischief was done, he suffered, more than any one believed, from the agony of remorse. But he roused himself and said, " Now, who will slide down on the rope and set the donkey free ? Of course we mus'n't go away and leave the poor beast tied fast ; for it might get sick and die if it couldn't move. You agreed to do it, Pat Murphy." " I reckon we want our ropes and things back again, anyway," growled a practical strap owner. " Certainly," Stephen assented, with a faint smile. " Well, Pat ? " " Shure an' I'm willin' to stick to my bargain ; only make haste, for mebby the old feller '11 be after prowlin' around to look to his beasts." This was enough to disquiet every member of the "gang." One excitable boy, a famous seer of ghosts, A PANIC. 59 instantly beheld a myriad of Jacksons, hobgoblins, and banshees, hovering dangerously near. In his terror he uttered a cry of deprecation — which so dismayed little Pat, who was then in the act of descending, that he lost his hold on the rope and had a fall of several feet. But the soft boughs and the ass so broke his fall that he re- ceived no hurt. Honest Pat's mind must have been disturbed by a presentiment; for, just at this conjuncture, Mr. Jackson, who was taking a by-path to the village, entered the field from another direction. Being still at a distance, he could not make out the boys clearly, but he could hear their voices. Now, this Mr. Jackson was not famed for liis discretion ; and instead of creeping upon them slyly, he hallooed at them from the place where he stood. Then, for the first time, the boys caught sight of him, and a panic, which soon became a stampede, ensued. Setting up a dismal shriek of consternation, the whole " gang " dashed to the fence, squeezed through it, and in- j^doriously fled. Little Pat heard the hurly-burly, and, clutching the rope, attempted to scramble out of his narrow quarters. But, alas ! no one was holding the upper end of this rope, and it had not been made fast ; consequenth/, it rattled down into the well, leaving Pat a prisoner. Poor little Pat ! Be- lieving he was deserted, he gave way to despair, yelled like a fish peddler, and frisked about like an untutored (lancer, now on the boughs, now on the donkey, beating time to his piteous yet horrible screams for mercy. This loosened the strap round the donkey's snout ; and an horrisonous bray of righteous indignation smote upon the night air, lending variety to a scene already sufficiently ludicrous. But one bray was not enough to relieve the donkey's pent-up emotion, and between its bellowing j^roans Pat might be heard vociferating shrilly, "Tain't inie 1 I ain't done nothin' ! I never did ! It's him ! It's ISteve! It's Ste-e-e-ve ! " A swarm of outraged hornets could not have hastened [the flight of Steve's redoubtable desperadoes more than [the united exertions of Pat and the donkey. They flew 8 jiil s ■ >■ ill HI I ft t -I 60 A BLUNDERING BOY. I r 1 1 j 1 , 1 J '■ i 'i towards the village as if hounded by demons, and were speedily out of sight and earshot. But where was Stephen ! On the impulse of the mo- ment he also took to his heels ; but when he reached the fence his native courage and honor returned. He stopped, sighed profoundly, and nervously broke a splinter off a loose rail. He did not know whether this splinter would be of any service to him, but he mechanically car- ried it in his hand as he slunk back to the well. There he sank down in a heap, and awaited Mr. Jackson's coming with much perturbation. However, he retained sufficient presence of mind to pluck a tawdry feather out of his hat band.and then set the hat fairly on his head. Wretched trickster ! he did not consider how dusk it was, or that Mr. Jackson would probably be more concerned about the donkey than about a rattle-pated schoolboy's headgear. Now, if ever, he should have indulged in laughter, for the scene was risible in the extreme. Ah ! if he had been an innocent bystander, he would have overnoised even Pat and the donke^'. Alas! he felt his guilt, and was more inclined to cry than to laugh. " Oh," he groaned, " why did I mix myself with such a pack of nasty little cowards ? I knew all the time that I had no business to meddle with that ass. Ass ? — why, I've made an ass of myself ! Where will it all end, and what will Mr. Jackson say to me or do with me ? — Well," with a sigh of relief, " there's one good thing : the ass will be let loose again ! " Stephen's gloomy surmises were cut short by Jackson himself. " What does all this mean, you scoundrel ? " he roared. " What are you doing here ? Where are those boys ? have they all gone and left you ? " At that instant another hideous bray, followed by a moan of mortal terror, reverberated in the well, and the new-comer turned and looked in. A boisterous laugh burst from his lips when he discerned the occupants of the well. " Oh ! this is rich ! " he exclaimed, so jubilant- ly that Stephen was stupified with amazement. Encouraged by Mr. Jackson's merriment, timorous Pat began with redoubled energy. " It's him ! I hain't done DEMORALIZKD STEPHEN. 61 nothin' ; so don't tetch me, Mr, Jackson, for I ain't had nothin' to do with it. Lemme go, 'please ! " Turning to Stephen, Jackson again demanded an ex- planation. Stephen did not give a " succinct account of the whole proceeding"; but Jackson fathered from his faltering confession tiiat a trick lay at the bottom of the afi'air. "Yes, I understand it all," Jackson replied; "but I don't see your motive. Well, little boy, I might put you to considerable inconvenience ; but it's so capital a joke — so deep, so surprising, so silly — that I will let you off. The grudge I owe Lawrence is paid now ; paid in full." This last expression was probably not intended for Steve's ears ; but he overheard it, and asked, with a start, " What about Mr. Lawrence, sir ?" " 'Lawrence,' eh ? Nothing about him ; except that he must settle with you. That's one reason why I'm letting you off. Yes, just take your bill and your story to him ; for its his place to deal with you." " I — I don't know what you mean," Steve made answer, becoming more and more perplexed. " I see that we don't understand each other very well. / don't know why you put his donkey into this well ; and you don't know — well, what ? You seem puzzled about something ; but when I refer the matter to Mr. Lawrence, I think you'll Und that he will understand it well enoagh to ^nd for a magistrate. Then come a law- suit and all sorts of good things." When a youthful offender or an ignorant person was the object of his resentment, this man loved to enlarge on the terrors of the law ; but when he himself was the culprit, he shrank from the bare mention of the word. " His donkey, did you say ? " Steve .said, utterly con- founded. "Oh ! please to tell me what you mean 1 " " I mean what I'm talking about. You know, of course, the donkey in that well belongs to Mr. Lawrence ; you know, of course, he pastures both donkeys in this field, which is leased to me. He will show you that you can't make a plaything of his donkeys, and to-morrow you will be wanted. If this maltreated beast belonged to me, I would have ample satisfaction ! " savagely. M ■I P 11 f 62 A BLUNDERING BOY. t i " I see your mates have left you," he continued. " Well, I hope you will enjoy yourself here with the donkeys. I should like to stop and see the sport ; but I can't, I must go on. You had better haul the donkey out — if you can. Of course, I've no time to help you ; and it's no concern of mine, anyway ; so, good night ! Hurrah ! your rope is out of your reach ! Th' is an interesting case indeed ! Well, you and your little friend there can amuse yourselves by endeavoring to adjust matters. You won't be entirely alone ; for the quadru- peds grazing in this field will occasionally come and gape at you. The moon will soon be up ; appeal to it ! " Then, with a mocking bow, he turned on his heel and made ofi*, leaving Stephen alone with his troubles. And this was the retaliation which Steve had planned so craftily ! How wretchedly his scheme had failed ! Instead of imprisoning Jackson's donkey, he had im- prisoned that of his friend Mr. Lawrence. Truly, here was a case that called for many interjections — for more, in fact, than hapless Steve could muster. And he had been detected in the very act. What would be the consequences ? Would those* dark threats of Jackson's be put into execution ? What penalties might the law inflict on him ? What did the Law say about feloniously dumping another man's donkey into a disused well, anyway ? Alas ! Steve did not know. But, oh ! comforting thought ! Jackson plainly did not suspect anybody of playing a trick on him. And it was well for Stephen that it was so, as a suspicion of the truth would have stirred up the waspish old blusterer's fury. " O dear ! " groaned Steve, " I wish I was at home ! I wish I hadn't done it ! I wish — dear ! Well, I will never have anything more to do with those mean sneaks. Why couldn't they have stuck by me ? Now they '11 go and spread it all over, and what will people think of me ? What will become of me ? Well, I shall be laughed at for a month, that's very certain." This doleful soliloquy manifests that Stephen was but a boy, and that he was but human. A man's great care is (or should be) to guard his reputation ; a Iwoy's great WHAT PAT "ALAYS KNOWED.' 63 care is to keep from becoming a laughing-stock. This is a bug-bear which haunts him (the boy) from the day when masculine apparel is first girded on him, and which prompts him to do many things that, to his elders, are foolish and incomprehensible. It is for this reason that a well-organized boy, however learned he may be, prefers to use simple words of Anglo-Saxon origin, when he knows he could make his meaning clearer by using Latin polysyllables. But Steve's disquieting speculations were interrupted by Pat, who whispered warily, " Is he gone ? " Now, Steve did not know that this is a polite expres- sion, and he answered snappishly, " Yes, he has gone." This was good news to little Pat. Forgetting that he had just been accusing Stephen to Mr. Jackson, he began beseechingly : " Lemme out, Steve ! Lemme out, that s a good boy. I al'ays knowed you was a good boy, Steve, didn't I ? Lemme out now, and I'll do anythin' fur you." This reminded Stephen of the labor that lay before him. How was he to get hold of the rope ? The one could not climb up the sides of the well ; the other could not climb down ; all the cords were bound on the ass. However, Stephen searched his pockets carefully, and lighted on a new and strong fish- line, with a fish-hook affixed. The fish-line was not long enough to reach down to Pat ; but by noosing the end to one oi the handspikes that difficulty was removed. There was now direct com- munication between the two boys. Pat was rather fidgety when he saw the fish-hook dangling under his nose, but he caught it fast to the rope, which Stephen carefully and fearfully drew up. If that fish line had parted, those boys and the writer would have been placed in a sorry plight. The rope was no sooner made fast than Pat scrambled up it, caught up his shabby coat, and exercised his limbs of locomotion so nimbly that he was nearly out of sight before Steve could recover from his amazement. This was a whimsical way of manifesting gratitude ! " How he scampers ! " Steve muttered. " What a pack of little wretches, and what a mean man Jackson is ! I ::, ■N 64 A HLUNDEUINO BOV ^ i I f i f 1 1 t ! I wanted to slide down into the well myself ; and those boys know I aj^n-ccd to let Pat do it on purpose to please him. Well, I've done wiiyli rnj^annitfins ! — I say," he bel- lowed to the nindile runaway, " you needn't run so fast ; / don't wan't you ; you're no ^ood, anyway." Pat knew that Stephen longed for his help ; he knew that a boy, when left in the lureh, speaks somewhat as Steph(!n had spoken, and yet Pat hurried on. Poor Pat ! he was not aware that his unique and valued button ring, the fruit of several hours' toil with boiling water, a broken-bladed knife, and a spoilt file, had been fractured in the well. Unconscious of his loss, he clapped his hands over his mouth, and bleated playfully and hideously. Stephen now racked his brains to hit upon some feasible plan of takintj^ the donkey out of the well. Sud- denly a happy thought sti iick him. His eyes sparkled with joy. "My stars!" he exclaimed, "I seethe very way to do it ! I can manage it after all." Then he mused on Jackson's beliavior, and another thought occurred to him. " I suppose he believed I couldn't get either of 'em out of the well. Yes, of course he did ; and he thought I should have to go to the vil- lage for help. And then I wonder if he'd have set the magistrate and folks after me ! Ten to one. Well, I can beat 'em all, and keep out of trouble, too." Yes, that was the point. If he had been necessitated to seek help, he would have been taught a wholesome lesson ; but when his own precocity suggested a way out of the difficulty, he was only hardened in his mischievous- ness, and he admired his great cleverness. Without further deliberation the deserted and frus- trated avenger slid down the rope, took the halter and a few straps oii* the donkey, coiled them around his own neck, and then clambered up. This was a foolhardy thing for him to do ; for if the fastenings of the rope had given way, he and the donkey world have been left to their own resources. But the generality of boys delight in doing such things. With a careless " I'll risk it," they rush headlong into danger, day after day. STEPHEN AND THE DONKEYS. 65 Then Steve set about caiTying his plans into effect. He sidled up to the other donkey and chased it over the pnsturage till the moon rose. This was weary work for iiiii), but ut length he caught the donkey, slipped the lialtor over its head, and led — or rather coaxed — it up to the well. " Well, old fellow," he said, addressing his first captive, " I didn't make any preparations to haul you out, but so much the better. Now, keep your mouth shut, and don't Ui afraid, and you'll be kicking around this field before no time. Now, heave away, boys ! Ho ! Heave 'er ! " He then pitched on the two lightest planks, exerted all his remaining strength, and placed them so as to form a Hoor or platform, extending from the transverse bars of liis engine to the curb of the well. Thus half the well's mouth was covered. Next, the donkey last caught was hitched to the rope, and by dint of entreaty, induced to draw its yoke-fellow out of the gloomy prison. " Saved ! " cried Stephen, in tragic accents, as he turned both donkeys loose. " Saved ! And I have saved you ! " And then he fell to turning summersets, chuckling, and disporting himself like a noodle. " Oh ! this is fun ! " he said. A heavy fall brought the boy to his senses ; and with- out more ado he gathered up his belongings and began to whistle " Yankee Doodle," as only a boy whose conscience is ti-anquillized can whistle it. The would-be avenger had expended so much of his strength that he was not in a condition to attempt to "place the rest of the planks, or to carry home his beloved pulh'y. " Mr. Jackson may arrange those planks himself," he uiu ered. " As for the pulley — well," with a last fond backward glance, " I suppose he'll knock it up into kindling-wood." It was latr when Stephen reached home that night. Notwithstanding his proneness to be mischievous and to play monkey tricks, he was free from deceit and he was not deficient in moral courage. As soon as he and his J ■ «ni 66 A BLUNDERING BOY. i I; I i i lit- t mother were alone, he made a clean breast of it, then walked off to bed, with tears in his eyes, but loving his mother better than ever. Although Mr. Jackson, while returning through the field that night, should have precipitated himself into the half-open well, there to perish miserably, yet he did not. The writer does not thirst for the blood of his villains ; but — lest he should be accounted utterly devoid of common sense — the following statement is offered, by way of consolation, for the punctilious reader's perusal: — Whilst replacing the planks, v/bich were permeated with humidity, he contracted a catarrhal cold, which did not yield to the apothecary's patent medicines till the next spring. When Mr. Lawrence heard the particulars of Stephen's prank, and the " motive," he laughed heartily. Of course the peace-oflScers did not gain or lose by the affair ; and Steve observed oracularly, " I knew he was only fooling. He didn't scare me a bit !" It is not necessary to waste time in tracing Jackson's career further — in fact, as he never annoyed our heroes again, he may as well be formally thrown overboard now. It was hoped that this experience would have a whole- some and lasting effect on Stephen. Alas, no ! Stephen Goodfellow was one of the many irrepressible incorrigibles that flourish in this country. ! Chapter VII. The Young Moralist— A Clever Scheme. As the school was now closed foi " summer holidays," the boys were free to do whatever they pleased. One bright forenoon the heroic six, full of merry jokes, set out on a stroll to the woods. Charles and Will led the way, and why they made for the woods will be seen further on. " Now, boys," said Charley, " wouldn't it be fun if we should have a real adventure today ? something ro- mantic ; something worth while — eh, Marmaduke ? ' CHARLEY WILL PLAY A TRICK. er Marmaduke's eyes flashed like a persecuted hero's whose case appears hopeless. However, he did nothing desperate, he simply said, " Boys, some day or another we shall light on something romantic — something awful ! I've always felt it. " Then we will pry into the mystery until we unravel it." Will, Charles, and Stephen, furtively exchanged glances. If their designs should succeed, Marmaduke would have a mystery to pry into sooner than he bargained for. Just as they entered the woods they heard voices ; and on looking about they caught sight of three little boys sitting astride of a decayed log. One seemed to have a paper of rasins, from which he was helping himself and the other two. " Hush ! " Charley whispered. " They haven't seen us yet ; so hide behind the bushes, and I'll play a pretty trick on them." Without the least hesitation, without looking to see whether they were sitting on grass or thorns, they crouch- ed down. Charley " knew himself," and the boys obeyed him promptly. Seeing that they were all concealed, he advanced boldly towards the three small boys. " Hollo, Tim ! " he exclaimed. " What have you got there ? " " Raisins," Tim answered laconically. " Where did you get them 1 " was the next question. " Maw sent me fur 'em." " Oh, I thought so. Now I can go to work," Charley muttered, in a theatrical '* aside." " What do you want of me, and what are you a-saying to yourself ? " demanded Tim, becoming questioner in his turn. " I'll give you a whistle for one of them, Tim," Charley said, so eagerly that the boys in hiding wondered. Why should such a boy as Charley wish to purchase a single raisin ? Was this a mystery ? It seemf i so mysterious that they pricked up their ears, and impatiently waited for further developments. Tim's thoughts are unknown. He replied indifferently, '; H i II ^^ t in I 68 A BLUNDERING BOY. 1 > i 1 , > i 1' 1 V ! ? ' t ? 1 : t 1 ' ; III i 1 : ■ 5 ' i i : I \ ^ ;■ n 1 I " Well, if your whistle's a good one, I guess I don't mind ; but I've give these here boys so many raisins thatMaw'll think that there new store-keeper cheats worse 'n the old ones. Let's see yer whistle, anyway." Charles turned his back to Tim, and searched his pockets for the whistle, a scrap of paper, and a forlorn lead pencil that had once done duty as the bullet of a popgun. Having found these articles, he scrawled a few words on the scrap of }")aper. " Can't you find the whistle ? " Tim inquired unsus- pectingly. " I'm coming," was the answer. Then the gaping ambushed five saw him slip the bat- tered pencil into his pocket, take the paper in one hand and the whistle in the other, and step briskly up to Tim. Tim reached out the bag, and Charley ran his hand which secreted the paper far into it. Then he drew out his hand — empty. " No, Tim," he said, " I think you have given away enough already. But here's the whistle, all the same. Now, run home, like a good boy. Young Tim tried his whistle somewhat doubtfully, for he was at a loss to know why it should be given to him for nothing. Big boys did not make a practice of throw- ing away good whistles on him, unless they looked for some return. Generosity so lavish astounded him. But the first toot assured him of the soundness of the gift ; a smile of pleasure flitted over his grimy face ; and he exclaimed joyously, " Man ! It's bully, ain't it .? " " Oh, it's a good one," Chf^rley averred. " I — I was afraid p'r'aps it was busted," Tim acknow- ledged. "Then young Tim rose to his feet and wended his way homeward, piping melodiously on his whistle, unconscious of the bomb-shell hidden in the bag ; while hard behind him, licking their daubed lips as they went, trotted the two parasitical boys who had been junketing on his mother's raisins. Charley, grinning and chuckling, hurried back to his comrades. Charley's "moral trick." 69 " I hope I've taught that thieving little sneak-thief a lesson he will remember," he said, with a smile intended to be exceedingly moral. " Why, what did you do ? What on earth's the matter ? Tell us all about it," cried a chorus of voices ; " we could see something was up, but we didn't know what." " Well, boys," Charles began, " I have often caught that rascal feeding little boys, and big ones, too, from parcels of raisins, sugar, and other things ; and I thought I would make him smart for it some day. So to-day, when I saw him at it again, I thought of writing something on a scrap of paper, and getting a chance to slip it into his bag. You saw me do that, perhaps. What I wrote was, ' O, mother ! please to forgive me ! I stole your raisins and things, hut I won't do it no more.' When his mother empties out the raisins, she will find that, and it will be enough for her. Then she'll put two and two together, and then, most likely, she'll put Tim and his skate-straps together. That is all, boys." " Good for you, Buffoon ! " exclaimed Stephen, to whom this knavish trick was highly amusing. " Mr. Tim will ' pay dear for his whistle ' this time — unless your confes- sion should slip out of the basr ! " " No, I put it down nearly to the bottom," Charley re- plied. " He won't be likely to open his bag again, either, for he has eaten and given away about half of the raisins." " I say, boys," said Stephen, " isn'l that what they call philanthropy ?" " What ? " Charles asked eagerly. " Teaching a boy that it's wicked to steal." " No ; it's the vice of perfidy ! " George replied, so promptly that a keen observer would have said, " This boy is impelled by envy ; he wishes he had been guilty of the same vice." But George was in the right ; Charley's trick was in- humanly treacherous. " Did you intend to take one of his raisins ? " Jim faltered, a wolfish look in his eyes. Charles' lips curled with disdain ; ]\is nostrils dilated ; virtuous indignation strove for uttoiauce. But he knew M ' ti 70 A BLUNDERING BOY. ■ Ir It li. that he could not look so injured that the boy would hang his head in shame ; so he resolved to annihilate him by a single word. To gain time to hit on an expression suffici- ently awful, he demanded threateningly : " What do you mean, Sir ? " Jim's nerves were always weak, and this jeering ques- tion so unstrung them that he spoke the first words that occurred to him. (By the way, the phrase was a favorite one of his, one that he used on all occasions ; and according to the tone in which he said it, it implied either doubt, indifference, petulance, fear, or profanity ! ") " I don't know, I'm sure," is what he said. " You hadn't better ! " Stephen thundered with lower- ingbrow. The reason why Steve espoused Charley's cause so readily was because the boys still teased him about the donkey ; and he rejoiced to f nd that another — that other his schoolfellow Charles — could be guilty of the mis- demeanor of playing tricks. Truly, the abusive adage, " Misery loves company," is right. " It is bad enough for the store-keeper to handle the poor woman's raisins ; and Charley's fingers don't look so clean as a store-keeper's, even ; " George observed taunt- ingly. " I guess Charley's fingers are cleaner than Tim's " retorted Stephen, always eager to play the part of cham- pion to some aggrieved wight, especially so now. But Charles perceived that his joke was not appreciated as it should have been ; and he turned beseechingly to Will, his firm upholder in all things. " Will," he said, " what do you think about it ? Did I do wrong ?" Thus appealed to. Will made answer : " Capital joke, Charley ; but you have begun your career as a reformer rather early in life." This did not satisfy Charley, and he took to his last expedient. When a renowned general becomes entangled in a snare which he himself has spread; when he is caricatured and lampooned in all the newspapers, and without a friend in all the world, he makes an impassioned and well- ON HIS DEFENCE. 71 |)unctuated declamation in his defence, in which he sums up the difficulties that lay in his way so eloquently ; sets forth the rightfulness of his cause so manfully ; repre- sents the disinterestedness of his actions so carefully ; discourses on the purity of his designs so volubly ; har- rows up the feelings of the audience, and the disguised editors so subtly ; exposes the fallacies under which his defamers labor so jocosely ; and reiterates his asservations so persistingly, that all except the most malevolent and perverse are brought to coincide with his views. Charles was now " on his defence." " ' The end justifies the means,' you know. Now, — " " That's what the Jesuits profess, and they are — " George interrupted. But, not knowing exactly what the Jesuits are, he stopped short, and Charley went on with- out further interruption. " Now, that Tim was a rascal, but this will reclaim him. He has been cheating his mother on a small scale for more than a year. She has sent him to all the different stores for her groceries, but with the same results. He is the only one she has to send, and he has a chance to steal at his leisure. Now, if I had informed her that her son does the cheating, what would have become of me ? Ten to one, she would have called me a sneaking talebearer, and told me to march oft' home and get my father to be- labor me. As it is, Tim will probably get the drubbing. There now, wasn't my ' confession ' plan just the thing ? Of course it was. You boys must be blind, or crazy, or silly." No oratory here, gentle reader. But the speaker was only a boy ; if he had been older and more experienced, he would not have omitted to remark, incidentally, that he had acted " on the impulse of the moment." However, his reasoning, especially the latter part of it, was conclusive. " Quite right :" said all the boys. Then, as time is very precious to a schoolboy during the holi- days, Stephen added, " Now let us go on ; we've fooled away too much time domg nothing." Will and Charles taking the lead, the explorers advanced deeper into the woods ; and taking an obscure pathway, I 72 A BLUNDERING BOY. soon found themselves in a quarter scarcely known to some of the boys. Heaps of brush-wood blocked up the way, making their progress very slow. But this only exhilarated their adventurous spirit ; and they tore through the brush with smiling contempt for sundry bruises and scratches. All except George, whose mind was still exercised about Charley's " vice," and who took no interest in squeezing through underwood, and stumbling over heaps of loose and rough brush-wood. " Look here, boys," he said, " why should we overstrain our limbs and muscles here, when a little way to the north there is a capital spot to rest ? We can learn noth- ing here, and by floundering about like top-heavy goblins we shall improve neither our minds, nor our morals, nor our garments. At any rate, / am going back ; / am not going to make an Amazon of myself." Sooner or later, the most inattentive of readers will be struck with admiration at the artifice which Charles dis- plays in working on the feelings of his comrades. In this instance, though George had actually turned back, he paused irresolute on hearing Charles exclaim sarcastically, " George, I'm afraid you will never become an explorer. Why, if you only knew it, we are penetrat- ing a jungle now ! Think of that ! TTe in a jungle ! " Though coaxing would not have influenced the sage, this happy expression did. He cast a sweeping glance in search of Charley's "jungle," and then went on with the others. Charles was satisfied, for he knew that however much the boy might grumble, he would not turn back again. A certain word George had spoken, excited Steve's curiosity. False pride never restrained Stephen from asking for information, and he said eagerly, "George, what's a namazon ?" George's smiling face discovered that the right cord had been struck at last, and, always willing to enlighten the ignorant, he answered benignly, "Steve, an Amazon is a West African woman warrior, who fights instead of men. And she fights with a vengeance — harder than a sea- " what's a namazon ? 73 serpent that I read about the other day. Why, she wears a sword called a razor, and it's so strong and heavy that she can chop off an elephant's head at one blow with it ! — At least" truth obliged him to add, " I guess she could, if she chose. And she will scale a rampart of briers and thorns, — no, hraynbles the book said, — of brambles, all in her bare feet, and come back all covered with blood and chunks of bramble, but with her arms full of skulls ! " Steve's look of horror only encouraged George to make greater exertions. But he was forced to pause for want of breath, and his hearer inquired in alarm, "Where do they get tho skulls ? Do they kill folks for them ?" Now, it was very inconsiderate, very disrespectful, very wrong in Stephen to put such a question. George was wholly unprepared for it ; and it rather befogged his loquacity. After a doubtful pause, he began blundering- ly : " Why, as I told you, they scale a rampart of bri — brambles, — sixty feet high, sometimes — and come off with those skulls. I — I believe they are put there beforehand ; and the feat is to pounce on them. — I mean, the feat is to scramble over the brambles barefooted. It is a valiant achievement ! " Then a bright idea occurred to him, and he continued impetuously, " Why, Steve, you must be crazy, crazy as an organ-grinder ! You don't know what a skull is ; you don't know a skull from a dead-head. Why, I'm aston- ished at you ! " " Oh, of course. I see what you mean now ; yes, of course they do ; " Stephen assented with alacrity. " I might lend you my book about all these things," George graciously observed. " Oh, thank you ! " said .Stephen, with sparkling eyes. Meanwhile, the heroes had been pressing deeper and deeper into the "jungle," and would soon be at their jour- ney's end. But at this critical juncture the sage's evil genius again preyed upon his spirits, and he muttered with nlial concern : " A boy's first duty ought to be to take care of his clothes, and — " " But it never is ! " Steve broke in. " — and here we are destroying ours ! " the sage con- tinued, disregarding Steve's impertinent interruption. 74 A BLUNDERING BOY. ' i I If 1 "I5«ver mind the 'garments,' George," Charles replied. " Your old coat looks as if it might survive the frolics of a hurricane ; so, 'banish care and grim despair,' as the sec- ond page of our new copy-book says." This was indiscreet in Charles. The aggrieved George was but a boy, and, naturally, he was angered. " Look here," he exclaimed, " what is your object in dragging us through this dismal place ? Where are we going ? If you should lead the way to a python's lair, should I be bound to tag blindly after you ?" , This reasoning was forcible, ard for a schoolboy, poetic- al. Will — knowing that their scheme would be discon- certed if George should turn back, and fearing that he would — bounded forward a little way, and then flung himself plump into a certain pile of brush. " Oh! " he screamed. " Come here ! Boys, hurry! Some- thing rattles all around under me !" The others quickly urged their way towards him, some in real, some in pretended alarm. George now proved himself a hero. The vigour of his intellect overawed the others, and they made way for him respectfully. At length, he was about to derive some ad- vantage from the ponderous tomes whose pages his grimy thumbs had soiled so often. "Yes," he said, "I know just what yoa heard. Don't be excited. Will ; keep very cool. It's a rattlesnake ! The great naturalist says they skulk around brush-heaps and tangled bushes, ready to pounce on their prey. I know, for I've read all about it; and luckily, I am pre- pared for the worst. Now, where are you bitten, and I'll cauterize it." And the speaker busied himself by stripping his pockets of their treasures, which he dropped on the ground at random. Jim, however, did not view the matter so philosophic- ally. At the bare mention of the word rattlesnake, he turned and tore wildly through the "jungle," crying piteously : "Oh ! I've got the chills ! I've got the chills ! the chills ! the chills ! awful chills ! " PREPARED FOR THE WORST. 75 Chapter VIII. George Comes Out Ahead. Meanwhile, Will stepped out of the pile of brushwood and said, somewhat foolishly, " Now, George, don't be foolish ; you know well enough there are no rattlesnakes in this part of the country. Put up your instruments of cauterization, and let us all take a squint under these ' brambles.' "^ Poor George looked so crestfallen that Will almost re- lented. " Didn't you get bitten ? " the former asked blankly. " What could bite me, George ! " Will asked mildly. " Well, / don't know what," George said savagely, " But Charles Goodfellow declares this is a jungle ; and we all know, I hope, that poisonous lizards, and reptiles, and centipeds, and tarentulas, and all hideous creatures, live in just such a place as this — I mean in jungles. So, what disturbed you in that brush-heap ! Answer that ques- tion ! — Botheration!" he continued furiously, " here you've led me into this horrible place, made fun of me, and con- tradicted me — you, who have no practical knowledge. And now, to cap it all, I've lost my jack-knife, the best jack-knife in these regions, and I got it only yesterday !" Poor George ! One thing after another had happened to irritate him, and he was now in a savage mood. In fact, he was really angry, and the boys had never seen him angry before. Charles felt a pang in the region of his heart, and Stephen was very uneasy. " Never mind George," Will said soothingly. " I'll help you to look for your knife as soon as we see what is under the brush. " He stooped over the brush-heap, groping, and then said with awe, as he supposed : "Boys, here are bones ! It was bones that rattled under me! — George," conciliatingly, "what does that mean ? " 76 A BLUNDERING BOY. I l! f " Well, I (lon'fc care what it means. My knife is worth more than all the bones you can find in a whole summer ; and I intend to look for it in spite of every- thing. You boys may squabble over those bones till — till — any time you choose." Charley was dismayed. George was too sullen to catch at the bait, and their little scheme seemed likely to end ingloriously. Was it for this that they had toiled and plotted? But Marmaduke, who had hitherto held his tongue, now came to the front, saying eagerly, " Bones ! Bones ! Let me see ! " He rummaged among the branches, and while Will, Charles, and Stephen, crowded around him, George looked on '* askance." " 0-o-h ! " gasped Marmaduke, " what a horrible dis- covery we have made ! Bones ! Bones of a mortal ! Boys," with emotion, "Some one was Foully Mur- dered Hkre. " "0-o-h! " echoed all the boys, as in duty bound. But Steve gave a horrible chuckle, and whispered to Charles, " It works already with him ; and," pointing his elbow at George, " he'll come around." The pain in Charley's heart was not very deep-seated, and it now mnle room for exultation. The searcher was left to his own musings, and the rest were absorbed in the discovery. Marmaduke paused a moment, to realize the awfulness of the word murder; then, snatching up the branches, he nervously tossed them out of the way. A little heap of white substances was disclosed which — to Marmaduke's heated imagination — were all that remained of a human skeleton. Now, the writer has so much respect for the feelings of his readers that he herewith warns them, in all honesty, that what is immediately to follow, borders upo>2v the grisly ; and that consequently it would be well for ilie queasy reader of fashionable fiction to skip the resl; of this chapter and all of chapter the twelfth. Marmaduke was now in his element; he felt somewhat MARMADUKE 1% BLOOD-THIRSTY. 77 as a philosopher does when a new theory in science bursts upon him ; he was happy. All boyish bashful- ness forsook him, and he began rapturously : — " Yes, boys, we have made a great, an appalling, dis- covery ! We have certainly stumbled on a dreadful mystery ! It now remains for us to solve this great pro- blem, and gain immortal renown. In the near future, I see us sitting in the courts of law, with the ferret-eyed reporters ; the grim lawyers ; the shrill-voiced foreman keeping order among the honest and eager jury ; the gaping multitude ; the venerable judge ; and the quak- ing murderer, found at last, and his crime unearthed and fastened on him by lis. Then the grand old judge, in solemn tones, will turn to us and say. "You are now called upon to give your conclusive evidence, and charge the crime — long hidden, but brought to light at last— upon the trembling, cringing wretch — this murderer ! Oh ! what a proud day it will be for us ! Now, boys, an unpleasant duty lies before us, and if any of you wish to withdraw, do so at once. As for me, I will not drop the matter till the mystery is cleared up, and the murderer gibbeted. But who ever wishes to take a bold part with me, must continue in it till justice is satisfied. Then together we shall reap the fruits of our zeal." This neat little speech amply repaid the boys for all the perils they had encountered in penetrating into Charley's jungle. Their delight is beyond our descrip- tion. Charley, Will, and Steve, exchanged winks most recklessly. Marmaduke, however, paid no attention to them, but drew a scrap of paper and a lead-pencil, which he always carried, from his pocket. " What are you going to do now ? " Steve queried of the romance-stricken boy. " I am going to make a memorandum of this affair," was the answer. " Where is Jim ? ' Will asked,, thinking that youth would enjoy the scene. " Oh," said Steve, " his old and convenient disorder seized him when George spoke of rattle -snakes, and he skedaddled."