LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
 SAN 
 
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 PIPETOWN SANDY
 
 SANDY 1JKGAN SLOWLY \O CIKCI.K AKOl'M) HIM
 
 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 By 
 JOHN PHILIP SOUSA 
 
 Author of The Fifth String 
 
 With illustrations by 
 
 CHARLES LOUIS HINTON 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1905 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 SEPTEMBER
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PACK 
 
 I IT'S ALL IN THE FlNGERS I 
 
 II SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 26 
 
 III ZORAH DABNEY 39 
 
 IV "PlCKIN" AlGS" 58 
 
 V OLD MAN JEBB 67 
 
 VI WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 92 
 
 VII MR. JEBB'S WOOING 109 
 
 VIII THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 121 
 
 IX DOING IT BROWN 152 
 
 X JUNO WENT A-SAILING 169 
 
 XI "I'VE BEEN FIGHTIN'" 188 
 
 XII SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 205 
 
 XIII JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 227 
 
 XIV JOHN HILDEY 239 
 XV WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 253 
 
 XVI THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 265 
 
 XVII "Two GENTLEMEN, BORN AN* BRED" 291 
 
 XVIII SANDY ON THE WATCH 301 
 
 XIX CHRISTMAS EVE 311 
 
 XX POOR LILY 332 
 
 XXI SANDY TO THE RESCUE 350 
 
 XXII ON THE RIVER 368 
 
 XXIII GOOD-BY 381
 
 PIPETOWN SANDY
 
 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 IT 's AU, IN THE; FINGERS 
 
 Miss Latham rapped sharply with her ruler. 
 
 "Class in arithmetic, attention, please!" 
 
 The boys recovered from their lounging posi- 
 tions and sat upright, awaiting further instruc- 
 tions from the speaker. 
 
 "Sponge your slates and sharpen your pen- 
 cils." 
 
 The class at once became surprisingly active. 
 The buzzing sound of the children's whisperings 
 and the clatter of slates and pencils grew louder 
 and louder. 
 
 "Less noise, please," the teacher admonished. 
 
 After quiet had been somewhat restored, Miss 
 Latham cast her eyes carefully over the class. 
 All the pupils, save one, were ready for the les- 
 son. This delinquent sat with a hang-dog ex- 
 pression on his face and a snake-like gleam in
 
 2 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 his eyes. The sneer on his lips and his air of 
 indifference were very annoying to the school- 
 mistress. 
 
 "Thomas, we are waiting!" 
 
 "I don't want to do no sums," was the reply. 
 
 "Where is your slate, Thomas ?" 
 
 "In my desk," growled the boy. 
 
 "Get it immediately, and prepare to take down 
 the figures I call off." 
 
 Shuffling his feet and moving about sullenly, 
 the boy took his slate from the desk and let it fall 
 with a crash. 
 
 "Thomas, how many times must I tell you not 
 to bang your slate?" 
 
 "I didn't bang it; it banged itself!" he 
 snapped back. 
 
 "Quiet, I say ; do not talk so loudly !" 
 
 "I ain't talkin' loudly. If yer think it's loudly 
 yer 'd better stick a bale er cotton in yer ears," 
 and Thomas looked around for some sign of 
 approval. 
 
 "You must behave yourself and not be im- 
 pertinent," insisted the teacher, with an effort to 
 be patient. 
 
 " 'Tain't impertinent. I don't want to do no 
 sums, an' what's more, I ain't goin' to do no
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 3 
 
 sums!" and he buried himself in his seat, with 
 legs extended under the desk and hands thrust 
 into his trousers pockets. 
 
 "Come here," called Miss Latham, in a manner 
 more severe than is generally accredited to a 
 pretty young woman of twenty-four, with a 
 melodic voice and a sympathetic heart. 
 
 "I'll see yer scorchin' in the fi'ry furnace 
 fust," cried the boy. 
 
 "Thomas Foley, do you hear ? Obey at once !" 
 
 "I'll swing afore I do," came the swift retort. 
 
 "Then you must remain after school every day 
 for a week, and I shall see that you do not sneak 
 away as you did last Monday. Your mother 
 thought you were here, when you were on the 
 river skating. You shall not deceive her again, 
 if I can help it. Bring me your skates, and I will 
 keep them until you promise better behavior." 
 
 "If yer wants 'em, come an' git 'em," and 
 squarely, he placed his elbows on the desk, as if 
 to protect the skates within. 
 
 Miss Latham quietly walked toward the refrac- 
 tory pupil, then firmly removing his arms from 
 the desk, raised the lid and took out the skates. 
 The boy made a grab for them, and in the scuffle 
 struck her a stinging blow in the face with his
 
 4 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 open hand. Grasping his coat collar, the teacher 
 shoved him back into the seat. 
 
 "You're a mean, contemptible coward; take 
 your books, you are dismissed!" 
 
 She returned to her desk, where she nervously 
 wrote a note and sealed it. "Give that to your 
 mother; it will explain why you have been sent 
 home." 
 
 "Who cares?" he said, as he came forward to 
 take the note, and then shambled toward the door. 
 
 With this incidental excitement over, the class 
 once more settled to work, and slates and pencils 
 were brought into requisition. Miss Latham 
 rapped for attention. 
 
 "Write on your slates, for addition, the fol- 
 lowing: 4-3-6-11-8-13-9," and the musical voice 
 of the pretty teacher intoned the figures clearly 
 and roundly. 
 
 "As soon as any one sums them, let me know." 
 
 She had scarcely completed the sentence when 
 a little hand, thin and almost transparent, was 
 raised. 
 
 "Please, Miss Maisie!" 
 
 "What is it, Gilbert?" asked the schoolmis- 
 tress. 
 
 "I have the answer." The boy was very pale,
 
 IT 'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 5 
 
 frail and slender, with lustrous black hair and 
 brown eyes, and apparently not over twelve in 
 years. 
 
 "Bring your slate here, Gilbert, and let me 
 see it." The lad walked quickly to the desk and 
 handed it to her. 
 
 "Correct, and very neatly written," and 
 Miss Latham patted the little fellow's head ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 Within a few minutes all the boys but one had 
 mastered the example. He sat with his head 
 resting on his left hand, his tongue projecting 
 from the corner of his mouth, the perspiration 
 dotting his forehead in great beads, and his eyes 
 glued on the problem before him. His lips moved 
 as he wrote, and figure after figure appeared on 
 his slate only to be rubbed out. Long-drawn 
 sighs were heard at intervals^ and despair seemed 
 pictured on his face. 
 
 "Sandy, we are waiting; all the pupils have 
 the answer but you." 
 
 Sandy looked up with an apologetic air, and 
 drawled : "It's mighty tough on ev'rybody havin' 
 ter wait on me, Miss Maisie, but I ain't quite got 
 the hang of it yet," slowly shaking his head and 
 heaving another hopeless sigh.
 
 6 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Gilbert looked across the aisle and observed 
 the other boy. It was Gilbert's first day at school, 
 and he had been so engrossed with his studies 
 and the exciting incident of the day, that he had 
 paid little attention to his companions, save in 
 the most desultory way. Sandy, the boy who was 
 struggling with the problem, was fairly tall, raw- 
 boned, much freckled, with a little stubby nose, 
 and hair that was very red. 
 
 "Homely as a hedge fence," was the general 
 description of him, but with all his plainness 
 there was a look of sincerity in his face, and 
 through the merry twinkle of the bluest of blue 
 eyes shone a soul fearless and brave. Gilbert 
 was attracted to him immediately. 
 
 Sandy, still intent on his task, sighed again, 
 then raised his hand slowly, and said: "Mebbe 
 I've got the right answer, Miss Maisie." He 
 arose, half reluctantly, and tiptoed toward the 
 teacher. 
 
 Miss Latham glanced at the slate, and, with 
 a slight touch of asperity, said: "Sandy! Sandy! 
 will you ever learn ? Your answer is all wrong." 
 Her foot tapped impatiently on the floor, and 
 then looking in the direction of Gilbert, she said : 
 "Take your slate and sit down by the little fellow.
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 7 
 
 Perhaps Gilbert can explain to you how easy this 
 sum in addition really is." 
 
 Sandy slowly retraced his steps down the 
 aisle, and, crossing over, sat down by the side of 
 Gilbert, who took the older boy's slate to see how 
 the example was written out. 
 
 With a good-humored smile at the odd twist- 
 ing of the figures, Gilbert turned, and, placing his 
 hand on the other's arm, with assurance and sym- 
 pathy, began: 
 
 "My father says there have been some awfully 
 smart people high up in the world, who were not 
 worth shucks in doing sums in arithmetic." 
 
 "When did yer father say that?" doubtingly 
 asked Sandy. 
 
 "Oh, lots of times. He says one of the great 
 Roman generals had to have some one around to 
 count up for him, and you know great Roman 
 generals were away up, and no mistake," said lit- 
 tle Gilbert impressively. 
 
 "Yes, I seen one in the theater onct, actin', 
 but he didn't git 'way up, 'cause he couldn't do 
 no sums," and the older boy dubiously shook 
 his head. 
 
 Without apparent notice of the interruption, 
 Gilbert continued with a mighty, philosophic air:
 
 8 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "The Roman general wasn't half so much in- 
 terested in sums as he was in war; if he had been, 
 he would have learned them all right !" 
 
 "I ain't a-sayin' nuthin' 'bout what a Roman 
 gen'ral would or wouldn't 'a' done, but I know 
 my pore old mother would be mighty glad if 
 somebody squirted some book-1'arnin' into my 
 noddle. Folks all tells her I won't never amount 
 to nuthin' in school, an' I'm beginnin' to believe 
 it myself, fer I'm fifteen years old." 
 
 Gilbert, looking at the dejected boy, carefully 
 sponged out Sandy's incorrect work and put the 
 figures of his example across the top of the slate 
 4-3-6-11-8-13-9. 
 
 "Now, let's take the figure 4 for a starter, and 
 then add 3. We do that by taking three of your 
 fingers and adding them to the four; four, five, 
 six, seven," counting on Sandy's upraised and 
 outstretched hand, and turning down each finger 
 until seven was reached. 
 
 "That's right," said Sandy. "Lemme try it 
 alone." Slowly he told off three of his fingers. 
 "Yes, that comes out two times runnin', an' I see 
 jest how it's done." 
 
 The boy's face seemed illumined by a new 
 light.
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 9 
 
 "We take the next figure, 6," said Gilbert, his 
 manner a laborious copy of his teacher's. "We 
 already have seven, and now we add the six, by 
 counting all the fingers on one hand, and one on 
 the other; thus seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, 
 twelve, thirteen. Now you try it." After some 
 hesitation on Sandy's part he succeeded in the 
 addition. 
 
 "Then we will add the next, eleven." 
 
 " 'Leven's a whopper !" exclaimed the older 
 boy. 
 
 "Hold up both hands," said Gilbert. "Eleven 
 uses up all your fingers and thumbs, and one of 
 mine. That makes thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, 
 sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, 
 twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, and my 
 finger, twenty-four. Take eight more fingers," 
 counting them off, "that makes thirty-two; the 
 thirteen, all yours and three of mine, summing 
 up forty-five, to which we add nine fingers, mak- 
 ing a total of fifty-four, which is the answer. 
 Now, you try it from the beginning; you can do 
 it all right," said the smaller boy, carefully con- 
 cealing his pride in his superior knowledge. 
 
 Slowly, but with confidence, and occasionally 
 prompted by his little preceptor, Sandy success-
 
 10 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 fully and triumphantly did the example. A great 
 happiness crept into his heart, as, for the first 
 time in his life, he added figures with certainty. 
 He gazed on Gilbert with unmistakable admira- 
 tion. 
 
 The little fellow had led him out of the maze 
 of puzzling addition. At last he knew why u 
 and 4 were 15, and not 51, when placed under- 
 neath each other. He laid his hand lightly on 
 the shoulder of his new-found friend and said : 
 
 "Hope-I-may-die, but ye're the cutiest little 
 codger I ever seen." 
 
 He held up his left hand and slowly counted. 
 "Yes, he's right; it's all in the fingers. An' to 
 think I never had 'nough gumption to see it afore 
 this little codger showed me." Then he took the 
 slate to Miss Latham, who praised him for ac- 
 complishing the task. 
 
 "It's dead easy; I never knowed afore, 'cause 
 yer never told me nuthin' 'bout fingers ; 'deed yer 
 didn't, Miss Maisie. Yer said a lot 'bout numer- 
 als, an' sich like, but nuthin' 'bout fingers." 
 
 "It's all in the fingers," soliloquized Sandy, as 
 he returned to his seat. "It's all in the fingers, an' 
 I never knowed it afore." 
 
 The recess bell rang and the boys filed out. No
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 1 1 
 
 sooner had Sandy passed through the door than a 
 complete metamorphosis took place. With a long- 
 drawn Indian war-whoop, ending in a "dare yer 
 to foller," he executed a series of cartwheels and 
 handsprings, winding up by standing on his head, 
 and then turning a number of somersaults. 
 
 It was a transformation indeed, from the slow- 
 going pupil of the school-room to the quick ac- 
 tive boy outside, all life and spirits. In truth, 
 there was no one in Pipetown to approach Sandy 
 as an all-around athlete. 
 
 Gilbert had spent much of his life in the sick- 
 room, and like most frail boys had always been 
 fascinated with sports that demand skill and mus- 
 cle. In Sandy he saw the embodiment of the 
 youthful hero. Sandy was coming on with a hop- 
 skip-and-jump, and, turning at least ten success- 
 ive handsprings around his new-found admirer, 
 he said : 
 
 "Say, little feller, don't yer know how to do 
 these 'ere things?" and he turned another hand- 
 spring. 
 
 "I never was allowed to try," said Gilbert, and 
 then, apologetically: "You see, I have been sick 
 nearly all the time since I was five." 
 
 "Gosh, that's tough !" said the older gravely.
 
 12 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "But if yer wants to try one, I'll show yer the 
 hang of it. They're as easy as dirt when yer git 
 useter 'em," and by way of illustration he exe- 
 cuted a dozen backward and forward. 
 
 "Golly, that's great!" gasped the little fellow. 
 
 "Jest try it onct, I won't let yer hurt yerself." 
 
 "I'll try it, but I'm sure I can't do it," said the 
 younger boy, although anxious to follow Sandy's 
 instructions. 
 
 "Git down on all fours ; now put yer hands flat 
 on the ground like a monkey. Give me yer feet ; 
 that's all right; I'll hold yer up by the legs an' 
 rock yer, while yer git useter the rush o' blood 
 in yer noddle." 
 
 After Sandy had swayed Gilbert for a minute, 
 he exclaimed, "How's that?" 
 
 "All right, I guess," pantingly replied the little 
 one, the exertion proving almost too much for 
 him. Sandy, realizing this, helped him to his 
 feet. 
 
 "That's bully good. Yer've got sand in yer 
 craw, an' as soon as yer gits a little muscle, yer'll 
 do 'em as slick as yer please." 
 
 Before the recess was over, Gilbert had almost 
 succeeded in accomplishing a handspring, with 
 but slight assistance from his athletic companion.
 
 IT 'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 1 3 
 
 Then, as Sandy and he walked into the school- 
 room together, the older boy patted him on the 
 back and remarked : "Yer've got lots 'er sand and 
 ye're all right." 
 
 "Do you think you can teach me?" queried the 
 younger. 
 
 " 'Tain't no teachin' in it 't all, it's jest sand an* 
 gittin' the hang of it, that's all. Why, if I don't 
 have yer doin' cartwheels in a week, yer can call 
 me a liar, an' my name ain't Sandy Goggles." 
 
 The little fellow's eyes sparkled with a sudden 
 joy. Was it a dream, he thought, or would he 
 really do a cartwheel in a week? 
 
 "O Sandy, you don't mean it!" he exclaimed. 
 
 "In course I do," said Sandy with absolute as- 
 surance. "Yer see, everythin' is everythin' in this 
 'ere world. If yer ain't got it yer might as well 
 cave in. In handsprings an' sich, sand is every- 
 thin'. In 'rithmetic an' numerals, it's fingers. All 
 yer have to have, is to have it, an' there ye are! 
 Yer'll be doin' cartwheels in a week, hope-I-may- 
 die if yer don't." 
 
 The boys went back into the school-room and 
 resumed their seats. 
 
 The class in geography was called, and the 
 members stood in the aisles next to the wall. The
 
 14 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 first boy was about to name the states forming 
 the northern part of the Union, when a sharp 
 knock was heard at the door, and almost imme- 
 diately Tom Foley's mother rushed in, holding 
 her unruly son by the collar, and literally dragging 
 him after her. The woman was so angry that she 
 did not notice how at every stride she ran the boy 
 against some obstruction. First it was the door, 
 then the hat-rack, and finally the chairs loosely 
 placed about the teacher's platform. Each sepa- 
 rate bump brought a cry from the boy, but the 
 excited woman grasped his collar more tightly, 
 and shouted : "I'll teach you to bring disgrace on 
 your hard-working mother!" 
 
 "I ain't doin' nuthin'," came with the yells from 
 her son. 
 
 "Please do contain yourself, Mrs. Foley," im- 
 plored the teacher. 
 
 The irate woman, in appearance almost too 
 young to have a son of fourteen, her handsome 
 face flushed with excitement, her eyes flashing 
 with anger, brought up suddenly in front of the 
 desk. Plumping the terrified boy firmly on his 
 feet, with her hand still on his collar, she ad- 
 dressed the schoolmistress. 
 
 "Maisie Latham, this is the third time this
 
 IT 'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 1 5 
 
 brat has been sent home this month. Do I pay 
 you to suspend him, or to eddicate him ? Answer 
 me that ! You get fifty cents a month in advance 
 for teachin' him, and I'm not a-payin' for nothin'. 
 I've brought that paper-backed book you sent me 
 before this boy came to your school, to remind 
 you what I'm payin' for." 
 
 She took from her pocket a small pamphlet, 
 and read slowly and emphatically: " 'The object 
 pf Miss Maisie Latham's school for boys, is: 
 First : To arouse the mentality of the pupil and to 
 awaken his power to think. Second: To foster 
 a sturdy moral nature and develop the scholar's 
 individuality. Third: To perfect the student in 
 those general studies that lead to a preparatory 
 course/ 
 
 "Now, that's the object of your school, as you 
 say right here in black and white. 'Tain't nothin' 
 'bout suspensions, and bein' incorrigible, as I can 
 decipher," and triumphantly she closed the book 
 and waited for the teacher's reply. 
 
 "Mrs. Foley," said the young schoolmistress, 
 "I feel that your anger is justified. My own pa- 
 tience with Thomas is exhausted, for I have tried 
 over and over to make him see the error of his 
 ways."
 
 1 6 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "See the error of his ways!" said the mother, 
 accentuating her words by shaking the boy. "See 
 the error of his ways!" she shouted still louder; 
 " 'tain't no good tryin' to make him see the error 
 of his ways; make him feel 'em. Ouch!" she 
 cried, as the boy suddenly grasped her arm and 
 bit until the blood came. 
 
 "You imp of darkness, I'll whip you within an 
 inch of your life for that." In an instant she had 
 seated herself in a chair, and, pulling him over her 
 lap, she gave him a thrashing that remained in the 
 memory of every boy present as the most thor- 
 ough dressing-down he had ever beheld. 
 
 When Mrs. Foley, breathing heavily, had fin- 
 ished punishing her son, she stood him on his feet 
 until his lamentations changed from ear-piercing 
 shrieks to subdued sniffling. Then she said, al- 
 most coaxingly: 
 
 "Now, Maisie, take him back, if it's only to 
 keep him out of the street. He won't do a blessed 
 stroke of work about the house, and if he don't go 
 to school, he'll go to the dogs sooner than he 
 would anyway." 
 
 "All right, Mrs. Foley," said the teacher, "I'll 
 take Thomas back, and I trust he will be a good 
 boy in the future, and give us no further trouble."
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 17 
 
 "Thank you, Maisie, I do hope you'll excuse 
 me. That boy cuts me up so I lose myself, and 
 jest bile over." Turning to her son : "Go back to 
 your seat and behave yourself. If you're sent 
 home again, I'll skin you alive. Your daddy was 
 a loafer, and I'll kill you afore I'll let you foller in 
 his steps." 
 
 She shook hands cordially with Miss Latham, 
 and walked toward the door with the parting 
 shot: "If you're sent home again, I'll bury you 
 so deep the Lord won't find you !" And she was 
 gone. 
 
 Tom walked sullenly to his seat, ever and anon 
 rubbing his nose with his sleeve. Dink Dabney, 
 who was next to Curley Harris, whispered : 
 
 "If I knows what I'm talkin' about, I spec' 
 Tom would be powerful more comf'table if he 
 wuz standin'." Whereat Curley laughed, and 
 the teacher rapped to start anew the interrupted 
 lesson. 
 
 Gilbert, being the newest scholar, was placed 
 at the foot of the class. The system permitting 
 the pupil correctly answering a missed question 
 to "move up one," or two or more, according to 
 the number of failures, was in vogue at Miss 
 Latham's school.
 
 1 8 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Before the lesson was over, Gilbert, by leaps 
 of fives, and tens, and twelves, was at the head of 
 the class. Sandy, who had been solidly intrenched 
 at the foot since the opening day of school, be- 
 came once more a fixture there. 
 
 "Sandy, name one of the Northern States," 
 said Miss Latham. 
 
 "Did yer say one of the Northern States, Miss 
 Maisie?" echoed Sandy, sparring for time, and 
 scratching his head. 
 
 "Yes, that is my question." 
 
 "Lemme see," drawling this slowly, stroking 
 his forehead, and looking perplexed. 
 
 "Hurry, Sandy, we can not wait all day," said 
 the teacher a little impatiently. 
 
 "I'm awful sorry, Miss Maisie," replied Sandy, 
 "but jest now I disremember whether Lou'siana 
 will do fer an answer; but if it don't how would 
 Georgyfit?" 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy, will you ever comprehend? 
 When the class go to their seats, you sit down by 
 Gilbert Franklin and let him teach you the names 
 of the Northern States. He might be able to get 
 them through your head; I despair of doing so." 
 
 "Yes, I'll go right off," responded Sandy, de- 
 lighted, while the little fellow was overjoyed at
 
 IT'S AU, IN THE FINGERS 19 
 
 the prospective pleasure of having Sandy next to 
 him. 
 
 The older boy came, and opening his geog- 
 raphy at the page containing a map of the North- 
 ern States, he whispered: "There they are, all 
 bunched together, an' they look harder'n a 
 puzzle." 
 
 Smilingly Gilbert commenced. "My father 
 says absent-minded people forget things, because 
 they do not consider them of sufficient impor- 
 tance. Perhaps that's what you think about the 
 Northern States?" 
 
 "No, I ain't absent-minded," said Sandy 
 slowly. "We had a man down our way, whose 
 folks called him absent-minded. But one day, 
 when the snow wuz a foot thick, he came out in 
 the street with no more shoes on than a crow, an' 
 the bug-doctor grabbed him an' clapped him into 
 the 'sylum. The bug-doctor said he wuz luny. 
 That ain't my trouble. I've got all my buttons. 
 I simply ain't got no noddle fer Farnin'." 
 
 From the moment these two boys had come to- 
 gether, until the last one of their school-days, 
 Gilbert impressed upon Sandy that he was not 
 the only one deficient in the things he was trying 
 to learn. Then, too, he saw, even though vaguely,
 
 20 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 with a child's imperfect comprehension, that 
 Sandy's chief need was a stimulus to his interest. 
 We have already noticed in the simple addition, 
 how the mist was swept from Sandy's brain by 
 using the fingers for counting, and, as the studies 
 progressed, Gilbert, with true pedagogic instinct, 
 employed the game of base-ball, the names of 
 streets, the number of houses in a block, the dif- 
 ferent species of birds, and almost any concrete 
 thing for purposes of intellectual aid. Before the 
 school was dismissed on this first day of their 
 meeting, Sandy had learned to name every North- 
 ern State, from Maine to Delaware. 
 
 As the two boys filed out after the second ses- 
 sion, they walked slowly down the street, and at 
 a little store on the corner a block from the school, 
 Sandy stopped and said : 
 
 "Jest wait a minit, Gil, while I go into Jebb's. 
 I've got ter git some darnin' yarn fer mother, an' 
 I'll be out in a jiffy." 
 
 While Sandy went inside, Gilbert stood on the 
 corner swinging his books, and feeling very, very 
 happy. The distinguished consideration on the 
 part of the boy who was teaching him to do hand- 
 springs, and now asked him to. wait, was most 
 gratifying.
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 21 
 
 Tom Foley and Dink Dabney, about a hundred 
 yards off, were coming toward him, and by their 
 gestures it was clear that Gilbert was the subject 
 of their conversation. 
 
 "I'll allow he knows his lessons better'n the 
 rest of the gang, but I'd rather never know 
 nuthin' than be a mama's-boy," said Tom. 
 
 "He don't look like no mama's-boy. In 
 course, he ain't strong and healthy like us, but he 
 don't look like no mama's-boy," ventured Dink. 
 
 "I betcher he is, an' what's more, I'd betcher 
 ten potterskills, if I had 'em, I'd scare him outer 
 a year's growth by jest sayin' Boo!" 
 
 "Well, I ain't got no ten potterskills to betcher, 
 but if I had, I'd betcher he ain't no mama's-boy, 
 an' he won't scare worth a cent," retorted Dink 
 warmly. 
 
 "Watch me," said young Foley. By this time 
 they were within a few yards of Gilbert, who was 
 gazing through the window into the store. As 
 the boys came nearer he turned, and, with that 
 smile which one boy always gives another when 
 he wishes to get on particularly friendly terms, 
 he looked inquiringly at Dink and Tom. 
 
 "Eh, mama's-boy, I wants to talk to yer," 
 sneeringly called the latter.
 
 22 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Gilbert drew himself up quickly, and a slight 
 flush suffused his face. 
 
 Foley came closer, leaned forward with half- 
 clenched fists, and snarled : "I hears yer laughed 
 when my old she-cat mother wore herself out 
 whackin' me to-day." 
 
 Gilbert looked the other boy squarely in the 
 face, and answered : "Well, you didn't hear right ; 
 I was sorry for you." 
 
 "I don't want none of yer sorrer!" hissed the 
 other. "D'yer hear me? I don't want none of yer 
 sorrer, an' I gives yer to understand, she didn't 
 hurt me, nuther." 
 
 "I thought she did," said Gilbert, looking into 
 the sneaking eyes of the bully. "She must have, 
 for you cried like a yellow dog." 
 
 "What d'yer mean by callin' me a yaller dog?" 
 shouted Foley, drawing back his left as if to 
 strike. 
 
 Gilbert surveyed the larger boy from head to 
 foot with a look of smiling curiosity, and .said 
 gravely, "I did not say you were a yellow dog; 
 I said you cried like a yellow dog." 
 
 "Well, it's mighty lucky fer yer that yer took'd 
 it back, fer if yer hadn't, I'd a-punched yer head 
 in a minit."
 
 "SANDY! SANDY! WILL YOU EVER LEARN?" Paged
 
 IT'S ALL IN THE FINGERS 23 
 
 Sandy came out of the store at this moment, 
 and in three strides was between the boys. He 
 looked at Tom and said : 
 
 "Punch nuthin'! Why, Snarley Foley, yer 
 wouldn't punch a cabbage-head, 'less it wuzn't 
 lookin'. What yer pickin' on the little feller fer?" 
 
 "He said I hollered like a yaller dog when the 
 old woman whacked me, an' I'm going to take it 
 out er his hide A see if I don't." But he made no 
 effort to carry his threat into execution. 
 
 "You won't take nuthin' out er nobody's hide. 
 Put that in yer pipe an' smoke it." 
 
 Sandy turned, and, looking at Gilbert as if he 
 were mentally weighing the outcome between the 
 two boys if they should clash, he said: "If I sez 
 the word, the little feller 'ud fight yer at the drop 
 of er hat, but I ain't goin' to let him sile his hands 
 on yer; leastwise, not jest yet," and he gently 
 backed the smaller boy away. Young Foley 
 made a step toward Gilbert. 
 
 "Oh, I see," said Sandy, "yer sp'ilin' for a 
 scrap. Well, if yer wants to fight, here's Dink; 
 he's yer size, an' what I say, Dink'll say, won't 
 yer, Dink?" 
 
 "In course I will," said Dink, proud of the 
 mighty Sandy's patronage.
 
 24 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Sandy, pointing the forefinger of his left hand 
 at Tom, spoke slowly : 
 
 "I sez, Snarley Foley, that yer hollered like a 
 yaller dog when yer mother whacked yer." 
 
 "An' I repeats it," said Dink in a louder tone. 
 "Yer hollered like a yaller dog, so yer did." 
 
 "An' I sez, furthermore," continued Sandy 
 contemptuously, "yer squealed like a stuck pig." 
 
 "An' squealed like a stuck pig," repeated the 
 imitative Dink, getting closer to the scared bully, 
 who now began to back away. 
 
 "An'," added Sandy, doubly pleased with the 
 addition of this invective, "yer bellered like a sick 
 calf." 
 
 Dink, with his fists doubled, eyes glistening, 
 and a look that boded no good for the frightened 
 coward, fairly howled at Tom, "An' yer bellered 
 like a sick calf." 
 
 With a look of fear, Snarley turned tail, and 
 ran as fast as his legs could carry him. 
 
 The three boys laughed loudly and derisively at 
 the fleeing figure, and shouted after him in uni- 
 son : "Go bag your head ; boo-oo-oo ! boo-oo-oo !" 
 
 Then they picked up their school books, and at 
 the next corner, where Dink parted from Sandy 
 and Gilbert, he confided to them that "If Snarley
 
 IT'S AU, IN THE FINGERS 25 
 
 Foley had er sed beans, I'd banged him any- 
 way." 
 
 Dink assured Gilbert, with many protestations 
 of eternal friendship: "If that Snarley Foley 
 ever interferes with yer, jest tell him to call on 
 me, an' I'll polish him off." 
 
 "I knowed he'd run like a scared dog when I 
 sick'd Dink on him," said Sandy, and he and Gil- 
 bert disappeared down the street.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 
 
 Had it not been for the family physician's man- 
 date that Gilbert should be allowed to go out and 
 mix with the other children of his age, and not 
 be for ever confined within the four walls of his 
 home, the boy probably would never have been 
 enrolled as a scholar in Miss Latham's school. In 
 all likelihood, by another year he would have 
 been goose-greased, mutton-tallowed, red-flan- 
 neled, and quinined into an untimely grave. 
 
 Luckily for the happiness of Gilbert's family, 
 the old physician's patience at last became ex- 
 hausted. One night, on being sent for because 
 the little fellow was "wheezy," he said sternly : "If 
 you want to raise that boy you had better let him 
 out to get all the fresh air of heaven he can in 
 his lungs." 
 
 "But, Doctor !" exclaimed the grandmother ap- 
 prehensively, "suppose he gets into a draught?" 
 
 "Or if his feet get wet?" added the mother ner- 
 vously, 
 
 26
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 27 
 
 "And diphtheria is so prevalent," protested his 
 sister Edith alarmingly. 
 
 "Or," lisped little six-year-old Lillian in a 
 croaking voice, "wake up with a croup, like me." 
 
 And the four alarmists appealed to the doctor 
 not to bring such dire calamities upon Gilbert. 
 
 "Do not let us borrow trouble," protested the 
 old practitioner wearily. "Let us hope, rather, 
 that the boy's mind will have a rest from inces- 
 sant study, and that his nervous condition will 
 disappear when he is playing outside. Should his 
 feet get wet and cold, he will run about until they 
 are dry and warm again, and the change from the 
 over-heated temperature of this house to the life- 
 giving air that blows without, no doubt will dis- 
 courage all sorts of disease germs. I tell you now, 
 I will not be responsible for consequences, if you 
 fail to follow my advice." He arose, and drew on 
 his driving-gloves and departed. 
 
 There is no edict so imperious, so inimical 
 to further opposition or argument, so all-compel- 
 ling in its scope as the family doctor's "I will not 
 be responsible for the consequences." 
 
 From Grandmother Franklin down to little Lil- 
 lian, the decree was accepted, and Gilbert was 
 spending his first day at school.
 
 28 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 The family expected him home at a few min- 
 utes after three. It was now nearly four. No 
 watchers for the return of a loved one from afar, 
 after years of absence, could have shown more 
 restlessness than did the Franklin family when 
 the hour at which they had looked for the boy 
 had passed and he had not yet appeared. 
 
 "I wonder what keeps him," nervously asked 
 the grandmother, going to the front porch and 
 with shaded eyes looking up the street in the 
 direction of the school. Returning to her chair in 
 the parlor beside the window, she watched in- 
 tently for his coming, ever and anon repeating 
 her quest and her question. 
 
 "I hope and pray no accident has happened to 
 him," said the mother, showing grave concern. 
 
 "Sho', Mis' Nanny," broke in the colored cook, 
 Delia, addressing Mrs. Franklin; "nuthin' ain't 
 goin' ter happen ter ma little honey boy. It's 
 only fo'h by the kitchen clock, an' mebbe he's 
 a-restin' of hisself afore comin' home. I spec's 
 yo'll be seein' him mos' enny minit." 
 
 "I think I had better go and find him. I'll never 
 forgive myself if anything has happened to him. 
 One of us should have remained with him on this, 
 his first day at school, and the only time he has
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 29 
 
 ever been away from us. I'm going to find him," 
 and the foolish parent, nervous and worried, 
 went to her room for her bonnet and shawl. 
 
 This useless anxiety on the part of the women 
 of the Franklin household had pursued Gilbert 
 since he was a mere child, their attitude at all 
 times being one of fear that something dreadful 
 was about to happen, and that, if it did not, the 
 escape was providential. 
 
 Once more the grandmother jumped up, laid 
 her knitting down, and with an expression of re- 
 lief and happiness walked to the front door. Gil- 
 bert was in sight a block away, and was just bid- 
 ding good-by to a taller boy, who turned down a 
 side street. 
 
 Calling to the mother, the old lady shouted: 
 "Nanny, Nanny, hurry down! Here he comes, 
 and I do declare* he is a hop-skip-and-a-jumping 
 as if he had never been sick in his life." The 
 mother came quickly, and went out on the porch 
 with the older one to greet the little fellow as he 
 bounded up the steps. 
 
 Gilbert was almost breathless, his cheeks were 
 flushed and his eyes sparkled with excitement. 
 He kissed them both lovingly, and taking each by 
 the hand, exclaimed :
 
 30 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Oh, grandma, mama! you should see me do 
 a handspring! Oh, it's great! Sandy says I've 
 got the sand, and you can always do handsprings 
 if you've got the sand and get the hang of them. 
 Come on, let's go in, and I'll show you how I do 
 them." 
 
 "Handsprings!" exclaimed the puzzled but 
 happy mother, and the three generations, hand 
 in hand, marched proudly into the house. 
 
 "Now, watch me !" said Gilbert ; "you see they 
 are done this way. I get down on all fours and 
 spread out my hands just like a monkey. Now, 
 grandma, you take hold of my right foot," and 
 he raised that particular pedal extremity, while 
 she obediently followed his instructions. "Now, 
 ma, you take hold of the other foot ; there, that's 
 right. Hold me up straight, and you'll see I am 
 standing on my hands." 
 
 "But, Lord alive, child, you'll have a rush of 
 blood to the head!" The two ladies showed 
 alarm. 
 
 "That's nothing!" said Gilbert with absolute 
 nonchalance. "Sandy says that's nothing ; all you 
 have to do is to rock the body to and fro, and get 
 used to it. I am already used to it. Just try 
 me." And together they swayed the little fellow.
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 31 
 
 "Now, let go," he quickly called. Then he bal- 
 anced himself on his hands for a moment, and 
 scrambled to his feet all breathless, but proud of 
 his achievement. 
 
 "Of course, I can't do them well, but if you 
 want to see how beautiful handsprings really are, 
 you should see Sandy do them." Then, with a 
 sudden burst of enthusiasm : "Sandy says he will 
 have me doing cartwheels in a week. Won't that 
 be great?" 
 
 Mother and grandmother in turn pressed the 
 little fellow to their hearts and kissed him ten- 
 derly. The older lady led him over to her chair, 
 and putting her arms around him, asked : 
 
 "Who is this Sandy you are telling us of ? I 
 hope he is a good boy." 
 
 "Sandy is wonderful, grandma, though he says 
 himself he never had any opportunities. Up to 
 this year, he has had to do chores and be gen- 
 erally handy, just to keep the pot boiling, but now 
 he is going to school regularly. He told me all 
 about his family when we were coming home 
 from school this afternoon." 
 
 "Who is his father?" asked the grandmother. 
 
 "His father was Mr. Dan Goggles, Private 
 Dan Goggles. He was a soldier and went to the
 
 32 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 war. Abe Lincoln called for volunteers, and 
 Sandy's father went right up and said he'd go. 
 Sandy's mother didn't want him to, but as he had 
 promised, she said it would not be right for him 
 to back out. So he went, and she took in plain 
 sewing. Sandy said his father wasn't afraid of 
 anybody that toted, I mean carried, a gun, and 
 they marched off with the bands playing, and 
 Sandy's mother crying as if her heart would 
 break. 
 
 "The regiment hung around here and there, 
 skirmishing and scouting, and getting used to be- 
 ing shot at, besides, and doing all sorts of des- 
 perate things for the honor of the flag. After a 
 while they got right on the battle-field before they 
 knew it, and the firing began, bang-bang! ping- 
 ping! The regiment was facing grape and can- 
 ister and chain shot, and Heaven only knows 
 what else, and besides were outnumbered ten to 
 one. And lo, and behold!" continued the little 
 fellow, his eyes blazing as he strode up and down 
 excitedly, "everybody was shot down and cut 
 to pieces, except Sandy's father and the general. 
 The general rode down the line, waving his sword 
 and shouting, 'Mr. Goggles, all is lost; if you 
 want to get out alive, you'd better run like hell.' '
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 33 
 
 "What!" exclaimed his grandmother, aghast. 
 
 "That 's what the general said," insisted Gil- 
 bert with an air of conviction ; "I'm sure of it, for 
 Sandy said so, and Sandy wouldn't tell a lie I 
 mean a falsehood for anything. Sandy's father 
 yelled to the general, 'The Coggleses never run/ 
 and he started toward the enemy. The entire 
 enemy shot at him, all at once, and off went his 
 leg," and here Gilbert struck an attitude. "Of 
 course, the enemy saw that it was not fair to 
 shoot at a man with one leg, so they requested 
 him to surrender. He wouldn't have done it, 
 but he had run out of ammunition, and, besides, 
 he hadn't got used to hopping around on one foot ; 
 so he gave up, came home, and received eight 
 dollars a month pension, besides a cork leg every 
 two years, 'which was mighty little/ says Sandy, 
 'when everything was so high.' ' 
 
 The little fellow mentally reviewed his recital 
 of Sandy's story, to note if he had forgotten any- 
 thing of importance. Putting his arms about his 
 grandmother's neck, and stroking her silvery hair, 
 he continued confidently, "I'm sure you'll think 
 Sandy splendid, when you meet him." 
 
 "I earnestly trust all of us will find Sandy as 
 splendid as you do," and the grandmother went
 
 34 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 out to greet Gilbert's father, who was just return- 
 ing from his office. 
 
 After supper the little fellow gave an exhibi- 
 tion of his newly-acquired accomplishments in 
 athletics for every member of the household in 
 turn and then, tired and sleepy, he went to bed. 
 
 His grandmother came, snugly tucked the cov- 
 erlets about the tired boy, and bent over to kiss 
 him a fond good night. He closed his eyes, and 
 drowsily murmured : "Grandma, don't you wish 
 you could do handsprings? If you want to 
 learn, I'll have Sandy come I'll have Sandy 
 Sandy " and he was fast asleep. 
 
 At the home of Mrs. Goggles there was much 
 surprise and delight, when the supper things were 
 cleared away, to see Sandy take out his arithmetic 
 and geography, and sit down to study. It was 
 the first time he had been known to apply him- 
 self to his books, or even to bring them home. 
 When his mother would ask where they were, his 
 usual answer was: "I kind er disremember jest 
 this minit where I left 'em. I wuz a-playin' ball, 
 an' Dink Dabney, or Curley Harris, or mebbe 
 somebody else, is lookin' out for 'em. They'll 
 turn up all hunkey to-morrer."
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 35 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine the joy of Mrs. 
 Goggles when she actually saw her son prepare 
 for study. 
 
 Five minutes passed in absolute silence. The 
 mother arose, went to the stove, raked the ashes 
 from underneath the grate, returned, and sat 
 down to her sewing. Another five minutes, and 
 the only sound was the ticking of the mantel- 
 clock. Sandy looked up and said : "Mum, we've 
 got the cutiest little codger a-comin' to Miss 
 Maisie's yer ever did see." 
 
 "Law sakes, Sandy, what makes yer think so?" 
 asked the mother with genuine interest, for he 
 was a most reticent boy, and it was "like pullin' 
 teeth," she had often remarked, "to git anythin' 
 out er him 'bout anybody or anythin'." 
 
 "'Cause I know," replied Sandy, in a voice that 
 carried absolute conviction. 
 
 "Who does he belong to?" said Mrs. Goggles. 
 
 "He's Mr. Franklin's boy, as lives up on G 
 Street, in that 'ere three-story house with the bay- 
 winders an' the big front yard, all filled with 
 trees," answered the son. 
 
 "I knows the place well," nodded Mrs. Gog- 
 gles, "it's where Sukey Bell used to cook an' do 
 general housework an' washin', Sukey says
 
 36 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 they're orful nice folks, got lots of money, an' 
 ain't stuck up a bit about it. Sukey says, too, 
 that they has double parlors on each side of the 
 hall, with communicatin' doors that jest open an' 
 shet like an accordeon. Sukey onct told me, in 
 her opinion, it was the mos' scrumptious house in 
 Pipetown, an' she orter know, for sence she's been 
 out in service, which is nigh on to ten years, she's 
 worked for every family about here. What wuz 
 yer goin' to tell me about their little boy?" 
 
 "Well, the little codger come to school to-day 
 for the fust time in his life, an' he beats anything 
 holler I ever seen. Why, he's a walkin' diction- 
 ary," said Sandy with enthusiasm, bringing his 
 hand down on the open book before him. 
 
 "Do tell a walkin' dictionary!" and the 
 mother put special accent on "walking." 
 
 "That's what I sez a regular walkin' diction- 
 ary. Now, I'll jest show yer. Ask me how much 
 six, seven, an' eight is. Go ahead quick; jest ask 
 me," and Sandy leaned forward, expectant of 
 the question. 
 
 The old lady, not knowing just what a walk- 
 ing dictionary had to do witH the question, said, 
 almost mechanically: "How much is six, seven 
 an' eight, Sandy?"
 
 MUM, WE'VE GOT THE CUT1EST LITiLK CODGER A-COM1N* TO 
 
 MISS MAISIE'S YER EVER DID SEE" Page 35
 
 SANDY'S HANDSPRINGS 37 
 
 "Now, watch me," said the boy. "We start 
 with six, then we add seven, that's all the fingers 
 on one hand an' two on this 'ere one. That makes 
 six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thir- 
 teen ; now we add eight ; that's five fingers on one 
 hand an' three on t'other. That makes thirteen, 
 fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, 
 nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, an' that's correct, 
 an' yer can't fool me. Yer kin count thousands 
 an' thousands without ever gittin* left ; all yer got 
 to have is fingers enough." 
 
 "Oh, Sandy, how did yer learn it? It's the 
 fust time I ever know'd yer ..to sum up," and 
 proudly the woman walked over to her son and 
 kissed him. 
 
 "It's all in the fingers, mum; the little codger 
 show'd me, an' I never know'd it afore." 
 
 "Now, take g'ography," continued Sandy, 
 warming up. "It's jest the same 'cept g'ography 
 is base-ball, an' 'rithmetic is fingers. Per ninstence, 
 take the Northern States; Maine is right field, 
 New Hampshire is center field, Vermont is left 
 field, New York is third base, Connecticut is short- 
 stop, Massachusetts is second base, Rhode Island 
 is fust base, New Jersey is pitcher, Delaware is 
 ketcher, an' Pennsylvania is at the bat. Now ask
 
 38 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 me what third base is ; New York, in course. Yer 
 can't fool me, an' I never know'd it till the little 
 feller told me." 
 
 The interested boy took a piece of paper, and 
 drawing the plan of a base-ball field, wrote the 
 names of the states in the positions with which 
 Gilbert had associated them, then handed it to his 
 mother and said, "I dare yer to try to fool me." 
 
 To all her questions, his answers were invaria- 
 bly correct, and mother and son were proud and 
 happy. It was getting late, and Sandy put out 
 the milk-can, closed the shutters, locked the door, 
 and waited for his mother to retire. After she 
 had gone he blew out the light, and softly 
 mounted the steps leading to his little garret 
 room. As he crept under the patchwork quilt on 
 his bed, he softly soliloquized, "He's the cutiest 
 little codger I ever seen, an' he ain't brash 'bout 
 it, nuther."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 
 
 Early on the next morning unusual noises 
 reverberated throughout the Franklin residence. 
 It was evident that something of an athletic 
 character was going on in Gilbert's room. At 
 seven the little fellow appeared at breakfast, with 
 glowing color in his face and appetite keen and 
 hearty. 
 
 "I have been trying handsprings for more than 
 an hour," he exclaimed, proudly exhibiting a va- 
 riety of bumps and bruises as mute witnesses of 
 his efforts. 
 
 "Get the arnica, Delia," called the grand- 
 mother apprehensively. 
 
 "Please, grandma, don't treat me as if I were 
 a baby," pleaded Gilbert. 
 
 "But, dear, it will soothe the aching and the 
 misery," said she sympathetically. 
 
 "Please don't bother," persisted the lad, "these 
 bumps don't amount to much, anyway; besides, 
 Sandy says when you have sand in your craw and 
 
 39
 
 40 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 can stand the gaff you don't need any pain-killer, 
 and before you know it you are as hard as nails. 
 So please let me have my way." 
 
 "Certainly, dear, if you insist, but promise me 
 not to be too reckless in your play." 
 
 "Of course, I'll promise that, grandma. Sandy 
 doesn't believe in being reckless. He told me so 
 himself. He says everybody knows that any boy 
 who wouldn't take a dare isn't worth powder and 
 shot to blow him to Kingdom-come, but he doesn't 
 think a boy should be reckless." 
 
 "I'm afraid that's a distinction without a dif- 
 ference," observed Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 "I am going to help Delia put up my lunch," 
 said the little fellow, going into the kitchen, 
 where he found the colored woman carefully se- 
 lecting an apple from a barrel. 
 
 "Ain't dat a beauty?" said the cook, holding in 
 view a Newtown pippin. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, but you had better put four like 
 it in my basket, Delia," suggested Gilbert. 
 
 "Lor' honey, yo' couldn't eat mor'n one of dem 
 yer in a day, if yo' tried." 
 
 "I know it, Delia, but Sandy just loves pippins 
 and russets all the time, and says he does not be- 
 lieve he could ever get enough of them."
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 4! 
 
 "All right, honey, but if yo're goin' in fer to 
 feed all creation, yo'll eat yo' daddy out o' house 
 an' home, an' sen' us all to the porehouse." Then 
 to show that she took no stock in her words, the 
 good-natured Delia put four of the largest apples 
 in the basket. 
 
 "I don't believe you have sliced enough bread 
 and tongue," continued Gilbert, scrutinizing the 
 pile of appetizing sandwiches she was preparing. 
 
 "Bress ma soul, dere's enuff yere for a small- 
 sized reg'ment," and she held up a heaped tray. 
 
 "Yes, perhaps generally," said the little fellow 
 slowly, "but Sandy and Dink just dote on sand- 
 wiches. Dink told me yesterday, he wouldn't care 
 if he were cast away on a desert island for the rest 
 of his life, if he were supplied with tongue sand- 
 wiches. He says, when they are cut thin, with 
 butter on both pieces of bread, they beat canvas- 
 back duck all to pieces. So please have plenty of 
 them!" 
 
 " 'Deed chile, ef yo' wants to have mo', I'll 
 have to give yo' de market basket to put 'em in, 
 an' mebbe Matt better bring de horse an' wagon 
 roun' for to tote yo' pervisions to school," and 
 Delia sat down, shaking with laughter at the idea. 
 
 After closing the lunch basket, the cook looked
 
 42 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 at the clock, and finding that the boy need not 
 leave for some moments, she sat down by the fire. 
 Beckoning Gilbert toward her, she almost whis- 
 pered, "Honey, I wants to ax yo' sumthin' that's 
 bin on ma tongue ever so many times." 
 
 "Go ahead, Delia, I am all ears," and Gil- 
 bert seated himself, waiting for her question. 
 She began slowly and impressively. 
 
 "Las' night, me an' ma brudder Matt went 
 roun' to de Odd Fellows Hall to see a panoramy 
 what wuz called Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. 
 We had awful good seats up in Buzzard's Roost, 
 an' enj'y'd ev'ry minit we wuz dere. Dere wuz 
 a man what told us all about de picters an' what 
 dey meant. Dere wuz picters of angels, an' an- 
 gels, an' angels, a-movin' along. Dere wuz pink- 
 faced angels wid long flowin' white robes, an' 
 den would come white-faced angels wid long 
 flowin' pink robes, an' dey kept on comin', an' I 
 watched, an' watched, an' watched, but nary a 
 black angel came, wid no kinds of robes on 'tall. 
 An' it set me thinkin' powerful hard. I sez to 
 Matt, who wuz tryin' to git through his wool 
 what de panoramy wuz all 'bout, an' not makin' 
 much headway, I sez, 'Matt, do yo' 'member 
 ever havin' seen a black angel?' An' he sed,
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 43 
 
 laughin', looney-like, 'Go 'long, Delia, an' stop yer 
 foolishness/ 
 
 "An' I didn't say nuthin' to him no mo', but 
 when de entertertainment wuz over, I waited fo' 
 de minister, who wuz dere wid all his folks, an' I 
 tips and sez, 'Axin' yer pardon, Mister Cunning- 
 ham, but is der sich a thing as a black angel ?' 
 
 "He coughed mighty hollow-like, three or fo' 
 times, an' hurryin' past, said, 'Delia, yo' jest run 
 'long an' don't ax no silly questions.' I stood dere 
 five minutes, tryin' to make out why ma question 
 wuz foolish, an' I didn't come to no concludin' 
 p'int, which wuz mighty unsatisfyin' to me, cos 
 I wuz jest whar I started from. 
 
 "I walked home a-thinkin' an' a-thinkin', an' 
 I sez to myse'f, ef dere ain't no black angels, 
 what's de use of ma puttin' quarters in de contri- 
 bution-box ev'ry Sunday. Ef I'se payin' in ad- 
 vance for lodgin's in de manshuns of de blest, I 
 wants ter know if dey is gwine to gimme a room 
 when I dies, or jest let me set out on de curb- 
 stone, 'cause I'm black, an' I jest got wool-gath- 
 ered a-thinkin'. Honey, what I wants to ax yo', 
 is yo' 'pinion, fo' I knows yo' knows lots an' 
 lots more'n most folks I could name. I wants to 
 know if in yo' 'pinion, hones' an' trufful, does
 
 44 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 cullud people go to Heaven anyhow when dey 
 dies?" 
 
 "Why, of course, Delia. Why shouldn't they ? 
 I'm sure your soul is just as white as any one's. 
 The only difference between white people and 
 yourself is the pigment in your skin." 
 
 "De pigment in ma skin, honey?" 
 
 "Yes, father told me all about it. It's very 
 queer. If you hadn't a pigment peculiar to your 
 race, you would perhaps be as white as anybody." 
 
 "Is dat de trouble wid me?" she queried, her 
 face shining with perspiration. 
 
 "I can't recall any other reason. But, Delia," 
 he continued ingenuously, "just think what it 
 would mean to us. If you hadn't any pigment in 
 your skin, the chances are you wouldn't cook for 
 us, and then what would we do?" 
 
 "Come yere, yo' honey boy," she cried impul- 
 sively, pulling the little fellow toward her and 
 pressing him tightly to her ample bosom. "Yo' 
 listen to me. If I hadn't no pigment 'bout me, 
 an' I wuz white as alabaster, I would cook fer yo' 
 until I drapped in ma tracks." 
 
 It was now time for Gilbert to go to school, 
 and, picking up his lunch basket and books, he 
 was off with a good-by.
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 45 
 
 Delia sat musing until her train of thought was 
 interrupted by the entrance of Matt, who had 
 come over for something to eat. He was Mr. 
 Franklin's man-of-all-work. When he was com- 
 fortably seated at the table, his sister spoke: 
 
 "Matthew, dat honey boy o' mine has made me 
 feel pow'ful better sence I seen yo' las' night." 
 
 "How's dat?" exclaimed the hungry brother, 
 taking the second helping of sausage and potatoes. 
 
 "He done tol' me all about cullud pussons, an' 
 why you don't see no black angels." 
 
 "An' what does he calkerlate am de reasin?" 
 asked Matthew slowly, between swallows of cof- 
 fee, with his elbows resting on the table, looking 
 expectantly at Delia. 
 
 "It's all de pigments; our souls er jes' as white 
 as ennybody's, he sez, but our skins air turned 
 black from de pigments." 
 
 "I'se a feelin' yo'," said Matt, "but I can't see 
 yo'," and dubiously he rubbed his lips. 
 
 "De little honey is de most knowledgeable boy 
 I ebber seen, an' he sez it's pigments in de nigger's 
 skin. Derefo' der ain't no black angels, an' I 
 feels it in ma bones dat dat am correct. For sakes 
 'live, niggers am powerful fond of hog-meat, 
 enny way it comes, an' dat wuz de trouble always.
 
 46 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 'Twan't de Lawd Almighty wot made de cullud 
 pussons black, but it wuz dem fool niggers when 
 de world got started, a-eatin', an' a-gorgin', an' 
 a-stuffin' demselves wid pigments an' cracklin's, 
 an' all t'other kinds o' hog-meat." 
 
 "Am dat a fac' ?" said the brother. 
 
 "Dat am it. Dey should 'a' bin mighty keer- 
 ful at de beginnin', an' not 'a' let de pigments 
 black der skin fo' ebber an' ebber, after de Lawd 
 made Heaven an' earth an' all dat derein lies. 
 Amen." 
 
 Delia resumed her work with a final thrust. "I 
 nebber did hab no use for dem foolish-goin' nig- 
 gers what don't know nuthin' nohow." 
 
 "I don't see why yo're lettin' dat worry yo'," 
 said Matt reproachfully. "Pigments or no pig- 
 ments, a nigger's jest as good as ennybody, as 
 long as he's a nigger; but when he tries to play 
 white man, he ain't as good as a nigger." 
 
 Gilbert's second day at school passed without 
 any special interest, as did many weeks that fol- 
 lowed. It was universally admitted, except for 
 the carping remarks of Snarley Foley, that Gilbert 
 was the brightest boy in his class. Miss Latham 
 said he was a wonderful child, and Sandy almost 
 daily reiterated his original opinion .
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 47 
 
 "Gil is the cutiest little codger I ever seen." 
 
 One of the surprises was the rapid advance 
 made by Sandy in arithmetic and geography. He 
 was permanently seated next to Gilbert, whose 
 particular care it was understood he should be. 
 
 To the little fellow's sympathetic assistance 
 during these weeks was due Sandy's progress. 
 To the older boy's kind instructions could be 
 credited a knowledge of handsprings and cart- 
 wheels, on the part of Gilbert, besides two fairly 
 successful attempts to walk on his hands, and a 
 projected double-somersault. Thus Gilbert's body 
 and Sandy's brain were running a race, and it 
 was neck and neck. 
 
 With the improvement in the younger lad's 
 physical condition, came a love of mischief and 
 a desire to play good-natured pranks. As Sandy 
 was a past master in the art of perpetrating jokes 
 he found in Gilbert a ready accomplice. 
 
 Among Miss Latham's scholars, next to ring- 
 ing the bell and keeping the fire up, the bringing 
 of drinking-water was the most important duty, 
 and, as Sandy was the strongest boy, he had thus 
 far always been deputized for that most enjoyable 
 task. He had the privilege of selecting a helper, 
 and, naturally, Gilbert was his choice.
 
 48 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 At least five times each day the buckets were 
 refilled. It was Friday, and that was fish-day in 
 Pipetown. Everybody was especially thirsty. 
 
 A hand was raised. "Please, teacher," piped 
 the shrill voice of a dry-lipped boy. 
 
 "What is it, Edward?" This from Miss La- 
 tham, to the boy standing near the buckets. 
 
 "'Tain't no water in the pails." 
 
 "Sandy, bring some." 
 
 "Yes, Miss Maisie," responded Sandy, at the 
 same time jerking his thumb over his left shoulder 
 toward Gilbert, meaning thereby, as plainly as 
 words could say: "Come on, little feller." The 
 younger boy, taking his cap from the rack, picked 
 up one of the buckets and followed. 
 
 Once outside, the pair went by a round-about 
 path through the back yard, over the fence, and 
 into an alley in the direction of the pump, a block 
 away. Suddenly Sandy stopped and peered 
 through a hole in the fence, examining closely an 
 object lying just on the other side. 
 
 "If that ain't a pot er black paint, I'm a liar," 
 he called out. 
 
 "That's what it is," responded Gilbert, also 
 looking closely. 
 
 "Findin's keepin's; so jest take it along, Gil,"
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 49 
 
 said Sandy, handing it to the little fellow, and 
 putting the paint-brush in his pocket. "I spec' 
 some painter left it here fer us to find, an' ain't 
 never comin' back no more to see if we've got it. 
 Findin's keepin's. Come along." 
 
 At the pump Sandy filled the two buckets, and 
 then hid them in a doorway near by. 
 
 "Now, Gil," said the older boy, taking the pot 
 of paint from his companion, "jest run across 
 the street an' git behind the fence till I come over. 
 I've got er n'idea. Yer can see any proceedin' 
 by jest a-lookin' through a knot-hole." 
 
 Gilbert went over and awaited developments. 
 
 Sandy scanned the street up and down, and, 
 finding it deserted, quickly dipped the brush into 
 the paint and started to coat the pump-handle. 
 When he had finished, he surveyed his work with 
 a critical eye, and soliloquized : "I don't believe I 
 could git no more on that 'ere handle, if I tried 
 fer an hour." 
 
 The handle was, indeed, completely covered. 
 
 Again Sandy looked, and saw a boy approach- 
 ing. 
 
 "If that ain't Fatty Beeks a-comin', I'm a liar. 
 I owes him one fer his nobs, an' I guess this is 
 where I pays it."
 
 50 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Young Beeks moved lumberingly, his head was 
 haughtily erect, and he waddled with an air of 
 stupid importance. He was fourteen, and very 
 fat. His hair was a mass of golden ringlets, and 
 he wore low shoes, white stockings, knee-breeches, 
 velvet jacket, with lace-ruffled shirt, and a Tam- 
 o'-Shanter. 
 
 Sandy, bowing with theatric mimicry, patted the 
 puffy cheeks of the youth, and said : "What ho, 
 my friend, one moment, I pray thee!" Being an 
 inveterate Saturday night patron of the drama, 
 and having learned "play talk" by the hour, he 
 now tried it on the fat boy. 
 
 "Prithee, fair youth with the golden ring- 
 lets," he began grandly, "dost thy mother know 
 ye're out?" 
 
 "Yes, indeedy," lisped the boy, staring blankly 
 at Sandy. 
 
 "'Tis well, beautiful one with the velvet jacket ! 
 As thou art a knight an' a gentleman, I prithee 
 guard this precious casket while I proceed hence, 
 an' rescue the beauteous damozel encased in yon- 
 der basement deep." And Sandy lifted the pot of 
 paint from the ground, held it aloft dramatically 
 and placed it in the mystified boy's hands. "Guard 
 it with thy life, an' when I return I will give thee
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 51 
 
 gold an' precious jewels, an' a little mountain 
 home." 
 
 Then with sh! sh! sh! and one finger warn- 
 ingly placed to his lips, he glided across the street. 
 Going round the corner, he jumped the side fence 
 and joined Gilbert. 
 
 The fat boy, holding high the pot of paint, was 
 undecided whether to remain or waddle away. 
 
 "Look! look!" whispered Sandy to Gilbert, 
 gluing his eyes to a knot-hole, "here comes Tom 
 Foley's mother, an' if she ain't goin' right to the 
 pump, yer can put me down fer a liar." 
 
 This quick-tempered but hard-working woman 
 walked mechanically toward the pump and placed 
 her pail on the nozzle. She grasped the pump- 
 handle firmly, but only for a moment, then with a 
 scream of astonishment and anger, looked at her 
 paint-covered palms and fingers in dismay. 
 
 "What imp of darkness has been here and done 
 this ?" she cried, at the same time espying the fat 
 boy, holding the paint-pot and giggling at her 
 plight. Fairly yelling, she jumped at him, with, 
 "I'll teach you to play tricks on your betters; take 
 that; and that; and that!" and over went the 
 paint, covering Fatty's ringlets, running down 
 his back, and smearing him from head to feet.
 
 52 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I'll skin yer alive, you fat-head, you brat 
 you you," the last words were lost in a re- 
 sounding smack, as Fatty slipped and rolled 
 through the pool of paint on the sidewalk. 
 
 She stood over him for a minute, in a sort of 
 sic semper tyrannis attitude, then filled her water- 
 bucket and hurled its contents at him. Fatty was 
 a sight, and Sandy and Gilbert behind the fence 
 danced for joy. 
 
 Turning about frequently, and occasionally 
 shaking her fist, Mrs. Foley slowly disappeared, 
 while the two young culprits came from their hid- 
 ing-place and returned to the spot where the 
 paint-covered boy was standing. 
 
 "Methinks," said Sandy in sepulchral tones, 
 "somebody's bin here ere now sence I've been 
 gone." 
 
 Gilbert laughed uproariously, until Sandy, 
 turning to him, said very gravely, in the manner 
 of Caesar to Brutus: "Silence, friend of me 
 bosom. As I love thee, I beg thee behold this gal- 
 lant knight." Fatty was crying. 
 
 "Ah, ha! I see it all," said Sandy with sudden 
 force, jumping up and cracking his heels together, 
 "yer wuz attack'd by robbers, pirates, an' sich 
 like, an' they done yer up, fer sure," The victim
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 53 
 
 was still sniffling, and trying to squeeze the paint 
 from his yellow hair. 
 
 Sandy struck another tragic attitude. "Go, an' 
 go in peace. Dry thy tears. Away to thy lovin' 
 ma, an' tell her to soak her little darlin' in tur- 
 pentine. The next time I meet thee on the Rialto, 
 a large red apple shall be thine. Git !" And the 
 fat boy waddled homeward. 
 
 "I wouldn't 'a' played th' trick on him if he wuz 
 white," said Sandy. "That fat-head's got the 
 yallerest kind er streak I ever seen in any boy." 
 
 "How's that, Sandy?" asked the little fellow. 
 
 "I seen him yesterday throw a brick at a little 
 dog an' break his leg. When I hollered at him he 
 kicked the dog as hard as he could an' run away 
 inter the house. An' that's why I'm glad we 
 played it on him." 
 
 Thereupon, with a consciousness of duty well 
 done, the boys returned to the thirsty pupils 
 awaiting them. 
 
 As Gilbert was going home, he passed Miss 
 Gransey's school for girls. His attention was at- 
 tracted by the sobs of a child seated on a bench in 
 the play-yard. Fearing some accident had oc- 
 curred, he hurried to her and said, all sympathy 
 and gentleness:
 
 54 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "What's the matter ; can I help you ?" 
 
 She looked up, and then sobbed afresh. 
 
 "Now, come, tell me what is the matter," 
 and Gilbert spoke coaxingly. 
 
 "Miss Gransey sent me home," said the child, 
 amid a fresh outburst. 
 
 "Never mind," and Gilbert stroked her head. 
 
 "Teacher sent me home, and told me to tell my 
 mother to scrub my hands, and, and," after a 
 great sob, "she said I was ugly as sin," and 
 another flood of tears came. 
 
 "That doesn't make it so," said Gilbert, trying 
 to soothe her. 
 
 "It's no use for mother to scrub my hands. I 
 scrub an' scrub an' scrub 'em ev'ry day, lots of 
 times, but I can't make 'em white, an' I want to 
 die." 
 
 "No, you don't," and the young lad bent over 
 her. Tenderly, he took the little one's hand in his 
 own, and imprinted a hearty kiss on it. 
 
 "My hands wouldn't be black if I hadn't been 
 runnin' wild all the year on Aunt Harriet's farm," 
 said the maid with conviction. 
 
 "Now dry your eyes," he said reassuringly, 
 still holding her hand and looking at it admir- 
 ingly.
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 55 
 
 "I had to go down to the farm and run wild, 
 'cause the doctor told my folks to send me, and 
 I'm awful sunburnt." 
 
 "That's it, the sun has made your hands olive- 
 tinted." 
 
 "Olive-tinted! what's that?" said the little girl, 
 forgetting her troubles temporarily, and opening 
 her eyes with sudden interest. 
 
 "Olive-tinted," echoed the youthful cavalier, 
 "olive-tinted is the color that all gipsy queens 
 have; in fact I do not believe any one could be a 
 gipsy queen unless she had olive-tinted hands, 
 and olive-tinted face, and olive-tinted neck, and 
 olive-tinted shoulders." 
 
 "Do gipsy queens run wild by the doctor's or- 
 der?" asked the girl, deeply interested. 
 
 "There is no doubt of it. They are in the open 
 air all the time, and of course run wild." 
 
 "I ran wild so long that sister Crissie says my 
 shoulders are as black as a nigger's ; but they ain't, 
 are they ?" 
 
 "Of course not," replied Gilbert reassuringly; 
 "they are only olive-tinted." 
 
 "When I came back from the country, sister 
 Crissie said, if I was picked up dead, she wouldn't 
 have known me, I was so black."
 
 56 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "But you are not; you are simply olive-tinted," 
 protested Gilbert. 
 
 "What else do gipsy queens have, like me?" 
 questioned the little girl intently. 
 
 "Well, they have hair as black as a raven's 
 wing." 
 
 "Yes, yes; and what else?" 
 
 "And eyes that would put to shame the twink- 
 ling stars," said Gilbert, quoting readily. 
 
 "How nice! And what else?" 
 
 "And teeth like pearls." The child's face was 
 wreathed in smiles, and she was struck with won- 
 der and admiration. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "Zorah Dabney." 
 
 "Are you Dink Dabney's sister?" 
 
 "Yes, that's who I am. Dink's my brother," 
 said the now talkative Zorah. 
 
 "I know him," said the boy, "he goes to the 
 same school with me. Dink's all right. Sandy 
 says Dink's all right, and Sandy knows." 
 
 "Who is Sandy?" asked the little girl. 
 
 "Oh, hasn't Dink told you about Sandy? I 
 thought everybody would tell everybody else 
 about Sandy, if they knew him." 
 
 "No, you see I've been running wild and just
 
 ZORAH DABNEY 57 
 
 got home a week ago, and haven't seen much of 
 Dink." 
 
 "And Dink hasn't said anything about 
 Sandy?" asked Gilbert with a shade of surprise. 
 
 "Nope, he never told me anything about 
 Sandy." 
 
 "Well, Sandy is just Sandy, and that's a heap. 
 He can turn cartwheels so fast it will make you 
 dizzy watching him. Oh, say, there's nothing 
 Sandy can't do, and you wouldn't know anything 
 about it, if you waited for him to tell you. You 
 must meet Sandy, and I am sure you will like him. 
 Tell Dink to have him come and see you." 
 
 "Yes, I will. Dink's got to shovel our coal to- 
 morrow, and I'll tell him to have Sandy come 
 and help him, and then I'll see him." 
 
 "That's a good idea," said Gilbert, as he hur- 
 ried away to meet Sandy down at Jebb's corner.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 "PICKIN' AIGS" 
 
 The children of Pipetown took second place to 
 none in their interest and devotion to the various 
 annual holidays. Christmas brought its visions 
 of gifts, mince pies and gaily-trimmed trees; 
 Washington's Birthday, or in the small boy's 
 verbal perversion, "Birthington's Washday," 
 came with its attendance at church, its reading 
 of the first president's Farewell, its pleasures of 
 skating, sledding, football play, or "shinny on 
 your own side;" Fourth of July, carrying with it 
 the cannon and fire-cracker, pistol and torpedo, 
 was made notable by the reading of the Declara- 
 tion of Independence, and brought to a glorious 
 ending by a fine fireworks display; New Year's 
 was, in reality, but a winding up of the Christmas 
 festivities, while Thanksgiving meant plenty of 
 turkey, nuts and candy. But the most pleasurable 
 time, perhaps, for the Pipetown boys, was the 
 Easter holiday, because it was so long drawn out. 
 
 For two weeks before, and during the Easter 
 58
 
 "PICKIN' AIGS" 59 
 
 week, the boys of the town were deep in the game 
 of egg-picking, and "Got er naig to pick?" was 
 the familiar greeting from morning until night. 
 
 Then, too, this was the time for the annual con- 
 cert, at which was usually given a cantata on a 
 biblical subject. 
 
 The girls of Miss Gransey's school, together 
 with the boys of Miss Latham's, were assiduously 
 rehearsing the cantata Rachel in Odd Fellows 
 Hall under the direction of Professor Faniels. 
 
 "It's mighty funny," volunteered Sandy to Gil- 
 bert during one of the rehearsals, as he pocketed 
 an egg just won from a boy standing next to him 
 in the chorus, "it's mighty funny 'bout music 
 pieces, 'specially if they ain't got no nigger in 
 'em." 
 
 "Don't follow your drift," said Gilbert. 
 
 "It's this 'ere way. I means, if a music piece's 
 got nigger in it, it jest keeps yer foot goin' all the 
 time an' the chune comes to yer jest nacheral like. 
 It's powerful likely yer'll be whistlin' it by the 
 mornin', but this 'ere kind of music pieces we've 
 been practisin', 'tain't no foot that'll go with 'em. 
 I've tried over an' over to keep time, but both my 
 hoofs jest stay planted. The gals they screech, 
 an' screech, an' screech, an' when they stops the
 
 60 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 boys beller, then we mixes up the screechin' an' 
 the bellerin' till it sounds like the devil afore day." 
 
 "But we must wait until the professor has re- 
 hearsed enough, and then it will be all right," 
 suggested Gilbert. 
 
 "I want yer to understan' one thing, little cod- 
 ger, 'tain't only pieces with nigger in 'em I like. 
 Them soft dreamy kind er chunes, that grow 
 sweeter an' sweeter all the time, then sort er die 
 away, have er powerful influence on me, 'specially 
 when I'm all run down, an' feel like a b'iled owl." 
 
 "Oh, if you were educated in music, Sandy, 
 there's lots and lots of it you would love, that you 
 can't understand now." 
 
 "I spec' that's right, little codger. Howsom- 
 ever, I ain't got no use now for any chunes 'cept 
 they have nigger in 'em, or are soft and sleepy, 
 like the woods in summer-time. Mebbe I would, 
 if I wuz eddicated like you are, but I don't know." 
 
 "I know you would," spoke Gilbert positively. 
 "Pieces by Bethoven, Mozart and Haydn would 
 be just as pleasant to you as nigger tunes, if you 
 heard them as often." 
 
 "I guess you're right, 'specially if they're as 
 pretty as you sez they be." 
 
 Rehearsal being over, the boys hurried to the
 
 "PICKIN' AIGS" 6 1 
 
 street, eager to challenge one another, and try con- 
 clusions with their "busters," otherwise known as 
 eggs carefully selected from a large number, for 
 points and butts of exceptional thickness and 
 strength. 
 
 Possession of the fleetest race-horse by a mil- 
 lionaire sportsman, or of the gamiest fighting 
 cock by a chicken fancier, could not have been 
 matter of keener pride to the boys of Pipetown 
 than the ownership of a champion "buster." 
 
 The first boy Sandy met was Curley Harris, 
 and "Got er naig?" came simultaneously. 
 
 "You bet!" 
 
 "Want er pick?" 
 
 "Mebbe ; let's see yer aig." 
 
 The eggs were produced from mysterious pock- 
 ets and reluctantly shown at a safe distance. 
 
 "That looks like a ginny keet," said Sandy. 
 
 "'Tain't no ginny keet an' yer knows it, that is 
 if yer knows anythin' 'bout aigs," snapped Cur- 
 ley sarcastically. 
 
 "Lemme try yer aig." 
 
 "Lemme try your'n." 
 
 The eggs were exchanged, then facing each 
 other the boys made a test of them by tapping 
 them, points and butts, against their front teeth.
 
 62 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 As Sandy returned Curley's egg to its owner 
 and received his in exchange, he asked, "What 
 'vantage d'yer give?" 
 
 "I don't give no 'vantage; points up, butts up 
 an' nuthin' more." 
 
 "Go' long, yer've the best aig, gimme a show 
 fer my white alley." 
 
 "Well, I'll give yer jest this much an' no more," 
 and Curley placed the egg in the palm of his 
 hand, then gently closed his ringers over it, dis- 
 playing a very small portion of the point. 
 
 "I won't pick with no feller like you. Show me 
 some fowl, an' I'll pick yer." 
 
 "All right, I'll give yer this much fowl an' no 
 more," Curley exposed the egg about half an 
 inch from its point, and Sandy, taking his between 
 thumb and ringer, rolled the point around that of 
 his opponent and suddenly struck. Curley's egg, 
 being the softer, was cracked. Then ends were 
 reversed, the process was repeated and Curley lost 
 again. Sandy pocketed the cracked egg, and 
 walked off triumphantly. 
 
 "No use talkin', Gil, but this has been a mighty 
 good day fer aigs." 
 
 "How many do you think you've won?" asked 
 Gilbert.
 
 "PICKIN' AIGS" 63 
 
 "I don't know, but I guess I'll stop to count, 
 an' yer can help me carry 'em." Then Sandy 
 fished from his pocket seven eggs, one of them a 
 duck's. 
 
 "Where did you win this one?" asked Gilbert, 
 holding up the duck egg. 
 
 "I jest picked this little bantam ag'in it, an' 
 she cracked it, but it was a mighty dangerous 
 thing to do. 'Tain't one hen aig in a milyun that 
 can crack a duck, but this little dandy done it," 
 and he held up a small brown egg to Gilbert's ad- 
 miring gaze. 
 
 "Wouldn't it have been awful if you had lost 
 that little bantam," said the younger boy sympa- 
 thetically. 
 
 No self-respecting boy in Pipetown would be 
 seen with a duck egg in his possession during 
 picking time, so Sandy felt quite guilty that he 
 had not thrown away the egg after winning it. 
 
 "I guess I'll chuck it pver in the lot, afore any 
 one sees it," he said. 
 
 "No, don't do that; let's wrap it up carefully 
 and lay it on the pavement for some one to kick," 
 suggested the little fellow slyly. 
 
 "I don't advise that," said Sandy. "Some lady 
 might kick it, an' ladies never did see no joke like
 
 64 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 that. Then he added, "I've got it!" and he 
 pointed down the street. Gilbert looked in the 
 direction and saw Fatty Beeks waddling up. 
 Sandy went gleefully through a hurried pan- 
 tomime. 
 
 "D'yertwig?" 
 
 "Cert," said the little fellow. 
 
 Young Beeks was abreast of them. 
 
 "Got an egg?" called Gilbert, holding up the 
 duck egg. 
 
 "Nope," said Fatty, "mama won't let me pick 
 eggs. She says it's wicked and leads to gambling 
 when you are a man." 
 
 "Mama is right," said Gilbert, in an attitude 
 of Chesterfieldian grace. Then, taking the fat boy 
 aside, he whispered : "I've just made a bet with 
 that big boy there, that I can hide this egg on you 
 and he can't find it." 
 
 "I don't want to play with you," young Beeks 
 exclaimed, as an unhappy recollection of paint and 
 pump came to his mind. 
 
 "This isn't play," said Gilbert commandingly, 
 "this is betting, and if I win, I'm going to give 
 you the egg; but don't breathe a word." 
 
 "All right, I'll do it if I get the egg," said the 
 other boy under his breath.
 
 "PICKIN' AIGS" 65 
 
 "You'll get it, don't fear," and Gilbert winked 
 slyly. "Turn your head, Sandy, while I hide the 
 
 "Now tote fair, Gil, don't put it where nobody 
 couldn't find it." 
 
 Gilbert winked again, and then slowly lifting 
 Fatty's Tam-o'-Shanter, placed the egg on the 
 boy's head and carefully covered it with the cap. 
 
 Fatty by this time was deeply interested, and 
 when Gilbert said, "Don't give anything away, 
 and we'll fool him," Beeks blinked like an owl in 
 the sunlight. 
 
 "All right, Sandy, we're ready," shouted Gil- 
 bert. 
 
 Sandy turned slowly and came toward the fat 
 boy with an air of absorbed interest. 
 
 "I knows ye're awful cute, Gil, but I'm goin' to 
 try an' find that 'ere aig if I bust a button." 
 
 The search began, and Sandy felt around 
 Fatty's shoes and stockings, up and down his legs, 
 into his trousers and coat pockets, into the bosom 
 of his blouse, about his ears and then slowly re- 
 turned down to his ankles. 
 
 "It's mighty funny where you could 'a' put it," 
 and Sandy stooped, gently pressing the boy's toes 
 as if the egg might be hidden near them.
 
 66 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "If I don't find it soon I'll have to give it up. 
 I ain't goin' to stay here for ever, jest fer one 
 aig," said Sandy, with an assumption of disgust. 
 
 Fatty was holding in his breath and blinking 
 furiously. 
 
 "I never knowed er naig ter hide like that afore ; 
 it beats all holler where yer could a put it, Gil." 
 
 The fat boy dug his nails into the palms of his 
 hands and set his teeth together firmly. Sud- 
 denly Sandy rose to his full height, stumbled 
 awkwardly and let his hand fall heavily on the 
 head of the unsuspecting victim. Fatty lifted his 
 cap and felt the smashed egg slowly oozing down 
 his face and neck. 
 
 "If I hadn't 'a' stumbled, I'd 'a' found that 
 aig," said Sandy with an injured air. "Don't 
 holler like ye're dead ; 'tain't nuthin' but er naig." 
 
 "Don't cry," whispered Gilbert. "It's tough, 
 but just think of the poor egg." 
 
 "That's it," added Sandy, "stop yer yellin', go 
 home to ma like a darlin' little boy, an' tell her 
 to turn on the garden hose; yer need it." Then 
 Sandy and Gilbert sauntered off. 
 
 "That was two for his nobs, an' he won't break 
 no little dog's leg ag'in, I'm a-thinkin'," said the 
 older boy as they parted.
 
 SANDY LET HIS HAND FALL HEAVILY ON THE HEAD OF THE 
 
 UNSUSPECTING VICTIM Pa re 66
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 MAN JBB 
 
 "The Corner" was the best known and most 
 popular place in Pipetown. 
 
 It was a store fashioned after its kind, supplied 
 with a limited assortment of groceries, dry goods, 
 hardware, guns and pistols, and the thousand and 
 one things known under the head of general mer- 
 chandise. 
 
 Titcomb Jebb was the proprietor. 
 
 The credit system was very popular. It was 
 often remarked that if a list of all the books in 
 Pipetown were taken, a certain little leather- 
 backed kind, having on its cover the title, "In 
 account with Titcomb Jebb, General Merchan- 
 dise," would outnumber any other, not even bar- 
 ring the Good Book. What was the reason for 
 this large custom ? 
 
 The grocer made it a rule never to turn away 
 those who were dilatory in settling, and never even 
 to throw out a hint to the unfortunates who could 
 
 not pay. Among these two classes he enjoyed a 
 67
 
 68 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 large, if not remunerative trade, and he naturally 
 had their good will besides. 
 
 The "good pay" customers spoke well of his 
 fairness a rare concession, indeed, for that most 
 imperious class. It was known that the inspector 
 of weights and measures came weekly at Jebb's 
 request and tested the scales. Those of the neigh- 
 borhood who desired to be present during the 
 ceremony were cordially invited. Besides, added 
 to every proof of Jebb's scrupulous honesty 
 toward his patrons at The Corner, seventeen 
 ounces constituted a pound, and a "baker's dozen" 
 and one over stood for twelve. 
 
 Of course "cash down" patrons were especially 
 favored. Cash down meant any time within three 
 months, and gave the purchaser an advantage 
 over the "six-monthers" and the "never settles." 
 
 To the "cash-downer" came a reduction of ten 
 per cent., also three guesses at the jar of beans; 
 yet with these tremendous advantages, the "cash- 
 downers" never arose to any dignity of numbers, 
 and their names might have been written upon a 
 tiny scroll of fame. 
 
 Among the boys and girls of the neighborhood 
 the grocer enjoyed the most enviable reputation. 
 Three or four barrels containing crackers, dried
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 69 
 
 apples, cream nuts and pickles, temptingly placed 
 around the store, and especially behind the various 
 posts, added to his popularity with the youngsters. 
 
 Jebb's good nature and sympathetic disposition 
 never deserted him, although he believed he had 
 been miscast in the drama of life. He fondly 
 cherished the delusion that he was a poet, and 
 scarcely a day passed on which he did not add 
 some new verses to his stock of rhymes. 
 
 Though Jebb had written much, for a long time 
 he kept the knowledge of his poetic ambition and 
 efforts secret from his neighbors and customers. 
 But this could not last for ever. One day a 
 verse appeared, painted in large letters on a card 
 stuck in a new barrel of sugar. To his patrons 
 it was a new way to advertise, combining poetry 
 with groceries. It ran thus: 
 
 Granulated sugar in the morning, 
 
 Granulated sugar for your tea; 
 If you want to be a winner 
 You must have it for your dinner 
 And feed it to your fam-i-lee. 
 
 These lines were speedily memorized by the 
 children of the customers and soon became public 
 property. 
 
 One local critic, waxing enthusiastic, pro-
 
 70 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 nounced them "bully good and rhymin' 'cordin' to 
 rule, which is a lot to say 'bout po'try nowadays." 
 
 Jebb, after much quizzing, acknowledged au- 
 thorship, and the ice was broken. Everything he 
 now wrote must needs be read to those among 
 his acquaintance who would listen. Tablet and 
 pencil in hand, he could be seen, when not profes- 
 sionally engaged in dispensing groceries, deep in 
 meditation and jotting down what he was pleased 
 to call his "wayward thoughts." 
 
 Once, and only once, he sent some verses to a 
 magazine, but they were returned "respectfully 
 declined." He did not rail or carp at the judg- 
 ment displayed, but contented himself with say- 
 ing: "Perhaps 'tis best that these stray waifs of 
 my brain should remain with me, and not suffer 
 from the arrows of adverse criticism." 
 
 Although disappointed at the rejection of his 
 manuscript, his manner continued as kindly and as 
 cordial as though he were the most favored of 
 writers. 
 
 One morning as the grocer was putting the 
 finishing touches on his latest stanzas, an effusion 
 idealizing the object of his secret admiration, Dink 
 Dabney strolled in. 
 
 "Good mornin', Mr. Jebb."
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 71 
 
 "Good morning, Dink; if you're not in a great 
 hurry, I'll be ready to serve you in five minutes. 
 I'm just polishing up a new piece." 
 
 "Don't bust yer b'iler on my 'count, Mr. Jebb ; I 
 ain't in no hurry, I kin wait," and Dink walked 
 around the store, deeply interested in the contents 
 of several open barrels. 
 
 At last Jebb put down the pencil and scanned 
 the paper in his hand, then turning to the waiting 
 customer, said : "Dink, what can I do for you ?" 
 
 "I want er stick of peppermint candy, Mr. Jebb, 
 but it must be fresh." 
 
 "It came in yesterday." 
 
 "Well, if that's so, I'll take it. I hates like sin 
 to waste my money on stale candy, but if yer sez 
 it's fresh, Mr. Jebb, I'll take two cents worth 
 of it." 
 
 The grocer took the candy jar from the shelf, 
 extracted the fattest stick of peppermint and 
 handed it to the boy. 
 
 "That looks all right," said Dink, eying it criti- 
 cally, "so here's yer money." 
 
 Jebb dropped the pennies in the drawer. 
 
 "Dink, if you're not in a hurry and are fond of 
 poetry, I'd like to read my new verses to you." 
 
 "Go right ahead, Mr. Jebb, I'm mighty fond of
 
 72 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 po'try, 'specially when I'm chewin' peppermint 
 candy." The boy seated himself on a convenient 
 soap-box. 
 
 "This poem," said the grocer, "is a wayward 
 thought, that I have entitled Have You Seen the 
 Lady? It reads as follows: 
 
 "Have I told you the name of a lady? 
 Have I told you the name of a dear? 
 ' Twas known long ago, 
 And ends with an O ; 
 You don't hear it often round here. 
 
 Have I talked of the eyes of a lady ? 
 Have I talked of the eyes that are bright? 
 
 Their color, you see, 
 
 Is B-L-U-E; 
 They're the gin in the cocktail of light. 
 
 Have I sung of the hair of a lady? 
 Have I sung of the hair of a dove ? 
 
 What shade do you say ? 
 
 B-L-A-C-K; 
 It's the fizz in the champagne of love. 
 
 Can you guess it the name of the lady? 
 She is sweet, she is fair, she is coy. 
 
 Your guessing forego, 
 
 It's J-U-N-O ; 
 She's the mint in the julep of joy." 
 
 "What's the answer, Mr. Jebb?" said Dink, 
 greatly puzzled. 
 
 "It has no answer, Dink, except in my heart."
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 73 
 
 "Oh, I thought it wuz one of them if a herrin' 
 an' a ha'f cost a cent an' a ha'f, how much will 
 twelve herrin's cost," observed the boy. 
 
 "No, Dink, it's just a wayward fancy of mine, 
 written within the week." 
 
 "Well, it's mighty good, Mr. Jebb; if it gits 
 talk'd 'bout it'll be jest as funny as the farmer 
 with the fox an' the hen an' the bag o' corn, tryin' 
 to cross the stream. But it's mighty good po'try, 
 Mr. Jebb," said Dink, with a look at the jar of 
 candy. "Mighty good an' no mistake," this 
 more pointedly. 
 
 "Here's another stick of peppermint, Dink, and 
 I'm glad you like the verses," said the delighted 
 grocer, handing the boy the coveted candy. 
 
 "I cert'inly do, Mr. Jebb. Whenever yer feel 
 lonesome to read to somebody, jest whistle me up. 
 I don't mind; yer can't feaze me if yer shot yer 
 po'try out of a cannon at me," and Dink walked 
 out. 
 
 "Per the sake of sufferin' Moses, why did yer 
 stay in there so long?" exclaimed Curley Harris, 
 who had been impatiently waiting for Dink's re- 
 turn. 
 
 "Oh, ol' man Jebb wuz a-readin' me a piece of 
 new po'try an' gimme some candy fer list'nin'."
 
 74 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "You must like him lots to waste yer time 
 hearin' him spout pieces." 
 
 "I do like him," answered Dink. "I like ol' 
 man Jebb 'cause he never noses into other folks' 
 bizness. I deals with him 'cause he don't 'spicion 
 nobody." 
 
 Whereupon Dink emptied the contents of his 
 pockets into his hat. The net result of his walk 
 among the barrels was shown in an assortment of 
 dried apples, cream nuts, raisins, crackers and 
 lump sugar. 
 
 "I bought the candy," Dink explained, with in- 
 ferential uprightness and grave assurance, "an' 
 jest picked up them other things lay in' round 
 loose. That's what I likes 'bout ol' man Jebb; 
 he never 'spicions nobody." 
 
 "Mebbe he could if he wanted to," volunteered 
 Curley, sampling the sweets in the hat with great 
 satisfaction. 
 
 "Mebbe he could," slowly echoed the other, 
 "but he don't, an' I 'low he's white clean through, 
 fer persons as is white clean through never 'spi- 
 cions nobody." And the two went away to find a 
 secluded spot to feast on the contents of Dink's 
 hat. 
 
 And now a few words by way of introducing
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 75 
 
 "The Jedge." This sobriquet he had earned years 
 and years before while acting as referee in the 
 many cocking mains, county fairs and racing 
 events held in the vicinity. He was rugged and 
 weather-beaten from the effects of a strenuous 
 life as hunter and fisher, extending over a period 
 of more than forty years. Rheumatism had be- 
 gun to claim him as its victim, and now at sixty he 
 was eking out a modest existence by breeding 
 hunting dogs and rigging fishing tackle. 
 
 With an abundance of time on his hands and a 
 strongly-developed love for companionship, he 
 was a constant visitor at The Corner. 
 
 Carlyle says somewhere, that "habit is our fun- 
 damental law! Habit and imitation; there is 
 nothing more perennial in us than these two." It 
 therefore seemed the most natural thing in the 
 world for the Jedge, as soon as he had eaten his 
 supper, to fill his pipe, light it with a hot coal 
 from the kitchen, and proceed to Jebb's for a chat 
 with the grocer and "the boys." 
 
 The boys were the duck-hunters and those in- 
 terested in sports, afield and afloat. Nightly, in 
 a little room in the rear of the store, these 
 worthies congregated and discussed guns, dogs, 
 birds and game generally, with that unflagging
 
 76 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 interest felt only in a community where quail and 
 pheasant, woodcock and waterfowl are plentiful 
 and much sought. 
 
 The Jedge was a central figure in this circle and 
 every subject of argument and dispute was unhesi- 
 tatingly referred to him. Whether a pointer was 
 better than a setter, a breech-loader better than a 
 muzzle-loader, a choke-bore better than a spatter- 
 dab, a partridge quicker than a blue-wing, binoc- 
 ular surer than single sight, and, in fact any 
 question affecting gunning, hunting and fishing 
 in their varied ramifications, was left to him for 
 adjustment. 
 
 It was a blustering evening in the late winter 
 months, and the Jedge had entered the little room 
 where the coterie of faithfuls assembled. With 
 hearty salutations exchanged, he seated himself 
 in his accustomed chair in line with a rat-hole at 
 the side, that served him as a convenient cuspidor. 
 
 "Enny ducks flyin', Buck?" this addressed to 
 a tall, unshaven young man who lived by hunting 
 on the river. 
 
 "Plenty of ducks flyin' this mornin', Jedge, but 
 I never seen 'em so knowin'." 
 
 "Ducks does get awful knowin' sometimes," in- 
 terposed the Jedge.
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 77 
 
 "When me an' Codfish Richards," continued 
 Buck, "got out on the P'int this mornin' an' set 
 our decoys/ Codfish up an' sez, sez he, while he 
 was a-blowin' his fingers warm it wuz as cold 
 as sin 'It 'pears to me we're goin' to have some 
 shootin',' an' I didn't see no reason fer to conter- 
 dict him, so I didn't say nuthin' an' I jest got 
 inter the blind. Whitebacks come 'long mighty 
 soon an' ev'ry time they'd git near the decoys, 
 they'd go way up in the air as if they wuz scrapin' 
 their backs ag'in the clouds, an' then fly on. Me 
 and Codfish stayed thare until we wuz froze stiff. 
 Then we picked up the decoys an' went 'shore an' 
 lit a fire to thaw out. An' I hope I may die, if a 
 gang of canvasbacks didn't sail by us high up, 
 a-puttin' up their feet 'gainst their bills, jest like 
 yer seen boys do behind yer back, and we never 
 got a feather. 'Tain't no use talkin', ducks is 
 gettin' mighty knowin' these days." 
 
 "Them actions," said the Jedge to the inter- 
 ested listeners, "is what scientific men call orni- 
 thological sagacity," and all present held their 
 cheeks suggestive of the jaw-breaking quality of 
 the remark. 
 
 "I spec' I never tol' yer 'bout poor Ned Doogey 
 an' his duck."
 
 78 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "No, Jedge; never told it to me as fur as I kin 
 think," said big Bill Dabney. 
 
 "Or to me," came from half a dozen voices 
 simultaneously. 
 
 "I kalkerlate ye' re right, fer I entirely disre- 
 member the time that I told it to a soul, if I ever 
 did," ventured the Jedge. 
 
 "Go ahead, now, Jedge; we wants to hear it, 
 an' we'll hump ourselves a-list'ninY' exclaimed 
 Buck Wesley, drawing his chair closer to the old 
 man. 
 
 The latter emptied the ashes from his pipe, 
 slowly refilled the bowl with kinnikinick, then 
 dexterously taking a lighted coal from the grate, 
 lit the tobacco, and for a full minute puffed in 
 silence. 
 
 "Takin' it by an' large, I should say, Ned Doo- 
 gey wuz the quietest mortal I ever seen. Ther' 
 wuz nobody as I ever laid my eyes on, as could 
 beat him list'nin', an' he wuz that perlite he 
 wouldn't a-crowded the mourners at his own 
 funeril; an' gals, gals scared him most to death 
 when they'd look at him, an' that wuz mighty 
 of'en, fer Ned wuz cert'nly a scrumptious-lookin' 
 feller. He got to shyin' at the gals so, we talked 
 of puttin' blinders on him.
 
 "DINK, I'D I.IKE TO READ MY NEW VERSES TO YOU ' 
 
 Page 71
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 79 
 
 "Me an' him wuz mighty chummy, an' in ca- 
 hoots fer lots o' years, until ther' comes a change 
 in Ned's career. Long 'bout this time, a man an' 
 his wife an' a raft of children from 'way up ther' 
 somewher' comes an' rents a house next door to 
 Ned. It wuz one of them awful nosey families 
 what tries ter smell what yer have fer dinner, an' 
 peeks over an' counts yer wash when it's hangin' 
 on the line. 
 
 "Ther' wuz 'n old maid in the gang who prob- 
 ably turn'd sour first time she heard thunder. 
 She wuz tagged Simphronia, an* she looked it. 
 Simphronia wuz a screamer, an' no apology to 
 nobody. She could outcackle a hen convention, 
 an' fer nacherel beauty, she had a potato trap like 
 a poor man's rent, from year to year. As fer 
 flesh, she wuz jest 'bout as thin as the last 
 run o* shad. 
 
 "Well, to make a long story short, she hypno- 
 tized, or mesmerized, or galvanized, or some 
 other 'ized' poor Ned, an' afore yer know it, he 
 wuz steady comp'ny an' wuz callin' ev'ry evenin' 
 from eight to ten, punctual. 'Twan't more'n four 
 or five years afore she nailed him an' he wuz a 
 goner. 
 
 "The first I know'd of it wuz when Ned meets
 
 80 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 me, an' sez, 'Jedge, I wants yer to stan' up with 
 me/ 
 
 " 'Stan' up with yer,' I sez, fearin' the worst. 
 
 " That's it, stan' up with me,' he sez, lookin' 
 aroun' like a scar'd dog. 
 
 " 'Who's the lady ?' I says, pretendin'. 
 
 " 'Simphronia,' he sez. 
 
 " 'Simphronia,' I sez ; 'great Scott, how did it 
 happen?' 
 
 " 'I ax'd her,' he sez, gettin' red all over, 'cause 
 he never could tell a whopper an' not show it. 
 
 "Well, sir, in a month Ned wuz hitched to Sim- 
 phronia, an' then his troubles begun, sure 'nough. 
 If ther' ever lived a torment on this 'ere mundane 
 sphere, as scientific men would say, Simphronia 
 was her cognomen. 
 
 "Afore the honeymoon wuz over, she begun to 
 clapper-claw an' tongue-lash poor Ned from day- 
 break to dark. 
 
 "A bunch of fire-crackers explodin' in a flour 
 barrel wuz the stillness o' death compared to her 
 goin's-on when she got warmed up. When he 
 come home from work she'd make him go round 
 to the back door an' brush hisself till she con- 
 cluded to let him in, an' then she'd keep him tied 
 to her apron strings, jest as if he wuz a baby. He
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 8 1 
 
 couldn't go two hoots an' a holler, without gittin' 
 bullyragged by her, an' takin' it all in all, his mar- 
 riage wuz a failure, but he sed nuthin' to nobody. 
 
 "After a while she gits it into her head that she 
 wuz ailin', an' she'd groan an' roll her eyes like a 
 dyin' calf, from sun-up to bed-time. Ther' wuz 
 no new-fangled disease that got talked about, but 
 what she'd have it right on time. 
 
 "I'm a-callin' to mind Ned tellin' me that poor 
 Simphronia wuz full of misery an' aches, an' I 
 sez, 'What is troublin' her ?' 
 
 " 'It's insomny,' he sez, 'insomny, an' she sleeps 
 through it so hard, I has to run aroun' the room 
 a-shoutin' "House afire!" and "Mad dog!" at the 
 top o' my voice afore she wakes up.' 
 
 "As I wuz sayin', I never found nobody as 
 could beat Ned a-list'nin', but hones' to goodness, 
 if she didn't wear him out at that. One day he 
 comes to me a-lookin' as thin as a shadder, an' 
 mighty peaked, too, an' he sez, 'Jedge, the doctor 
 sez I must have a change, an' I don't know jest 
 what to do.' 
 
 " 'If I wuz you, Ned,' I sez, 'I'd take a half- 
 day off, an' go out on the river an' amuse myself.' 
 
 " 'I don't believe Simphronia would like it/ he 
 sez, a-coughin' fer a whole minute.
 
 82 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 " "Tain't necessary fer her to know nuthin' 
 'bout it,' I whispered coaxingly. 
 
 " 'But how kin I do it without her knowin' it ?' 
 he sez, scared like. 
 
 " 'Easy as rollin' off a log,' sez I. 'Jest take 
 my skiff an' gun an' I'll give yer a horn o' powder 
 and a shot pouch, an' you paddle down to Pencote 
 a-huntin' fer ducks. Mebbe you'll find some, an' 
 mebbe yer won't. But that won't interfere with 
 the huntin', jest the same.' He agrees to my ad- 
 vice an' takes the afternoon off, the first Saterday 
 comin'. When he gits down to the P'int jest 
 t'other side o' Pencote, he sees a solitary duck 
 a-cavortin' round in the cove. He creeps up cau- 
 tious, an' lets fly. Down dives Mr. Duck, an' 
 after a while comes up 'bout fifty yards further 
 off, with nary a shot in him. Ned loads again, 
 picks up his paddle, an' creeps up. When he's 
 near, bang! bang! he goes, an' down dives the 
 duck onct more. 
 
 "Well, sir, he chases that duck all round Pen- 
 cote, an' in the course of the afternoon he runs 
 short o' powder an' shot, an' he never as much as 
 teches a feather. Then he goes home," 
 
 "What kind er duck wuz he, Jedge?" inter- 
 rupted Bill Dabney.
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 83 
 
 "He wuz what scientific men call a grebe, but 
 known round here as a 'water witch.' ' 
 
 "An* if yer enjoys spicy language, 'hell diver* 
 suits him mighty well," added Buck. 
 
 "They b'longs to the loon fam'ly, an* 'tain't no 
 trick fer 'em to dive when yer dick yer trigger, 
 an' when the smoke clears away, up they bobs, 
 sassy as a monkey on a stick." 
 
 "Fer a cute duck, I puts my money on a grebe 
 ev'ry time," concluded Buck. 
 
 "Next Saterday Ned takes the gun an' paddles 
 down ag'in. When he gits to Pencote, what does 
 he see but that 'ere same duck a-movin' round. 
 He crawls up an' shoots an' shoots, an' when it 
 wuz nigh unto dark, Ned had run out er ammer- 
 nition, an' that duck wuz still swimmin' round 
 as lively as yer please. 
 
 "When Ned gits home that night, Simphronia 
 wuz havin' the hypo, an' she jest wore her jaw 
 out a-lashin' him, but, oh Lor*, he didn't mind, 
 he wuz a-thinkin' of that 'ere water witch. He 
 got anxious fer next Saterday ter come, an' when 
 it did, down the river he steals ag'in. I'm a liar 
 if there wuzn't that same duck, an* he begun 
 shootin' at him an' missin' him as usual. Ned 
 sed 'bout the thirty-fourth shot he tho't he hit
 
 84 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 him, but while he wuz watchin', up bobs the 
 diver, an' shook his head, as if he was laughin' 
 an' sayin' 'That wuz a mighty close call, stran- 
 ger' an' then dove round, jest playful like. Ned 
 sed the duck seemed to take awful chances that 
 afternoon to sort er encourage him, 'cause he 
 could see Ned wuz kind er down in the mouth. 
 
 "Well, sir, that 'ere water witch got so used to 
 Ned comin' ev'ry Saterday, he'd swim out in the 
 channel an' welcome him. Ned sed he b'lieved 
 that 'ere duck wuz full of sportin' blood an' en- 
 joyed the pleasures of shootin', jest as if he car- 
 ried a gun hisself. 
 
 " 'Long toward spring, he seemed to know 
 when Ned's powder wuz used up, an' would foller 
 the poor feller up the river as far as his boat 
 landin'. Ned sed it wuz mighty entertainin' to 
 watch him circle round the skiff, an' after a while 
 he got so familiar he'd wait at the wharf, and fly 
 clean to Ned's home an' then skedaddle fer Pen- 
 cote. 
 
 "Bimeby, poor Ned takes to his bed sick, an' 
 mighty sick at that, an' when Saterday comes he 
 couldn't go a-shootin'. And when the next three 
 Saterdays come, he couldn't go a-shootin'. He 
 had what scientific men calls tuberculosis, but
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 85 
 
 what I calls nothin' else but gallopin' con- 
 sumption. 
 
 "'Long 'bout the fifth Saterday, poor Ned sez 
 to me, while I wuz sittin' by his bed, 'If I could 
 only see my duck ag'in I'd die happy/ an' lo an' 
 behold, I heard a tappin' at the window, an' if 
 ther' wuzn't that water witch a-lookin' in! I 
 raised Ned up, an' I hope I may die if the duck 
 didn't nod his head as familiar as possible. Ned 
 wuz satisfied, an' right there an' then he gave up. 
 
 "We buried him out in the cemetery, down 
 close to the river, an' when the first Sunday 
 comes, I goes out with a rosebush to put over 
 Ned's head, an' when I gets ther' I sees somethin' 
 strange a-lyin' on his grave. It wuz Ned's duck, 
 stark an' stiff in death. An' I sed then, an' I sez 
 now, it wuz a clear case o' suicide, or I'm a liar." 
 
 "What did yer do with him, Jedge ?" asked big 
 Bill Dabney. 
 
 "I buried him right next to Ned, an' put up a 
 shingle with these 'ere words carved on it: 
 
 " 'He loved not wisely but too well.' ' 
 
 After a thorough discussion of the peculiarities 
 of ducks generally, and of Ned Doogey's in par- 
 ticular, the coterie started to go. Buttoning coats 
 and turning up collars, for it was unusually cold,
 
 86 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 they filed out with a friendly good night to the 
 grocer. 
 
 The Jedge alone remained. His Llewellyn 
 setter dog, Rover, which, until this moment, had 
 been stretched lazily before the stove, raised him- 
 self slowly, stood up, yawned and stretched his 
 forelegs to their full length. He blinked his beau- 
 tiful eyes, shook himself, and going over to the 
 Jedge, placed his head softly and lovingly on his 
 master's knee and looked into the old man's face 
 quizzically. The Jedge stroked the setter ten- 
 derly, saying, "Think it's time to go, do yer, 
 Rover?" 
 
 The dog wagged his tail joyously, and he and 
 his master walked out of the back room into the 
 store. Jebb was sitting back of the counter en- 
 gaged in writing. He looked up and said: 
 "Jedge, if you're not in a great hurry, won't you 
 stop and have a night-cap with me?" 
 
 "Titcomb, yer knows my weakness. A night- 
 cap is a powerful argerment," and the Jedge 
 seated himself on a barrel. 
 
 Jebb drew from under the counter a bottle of 
 rum and a pitcher of molasses, together with two 
 tumblers. 
 
 "Titcomb, don't make it too strong. Yer kind
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 87 
 
 er put in too much licker las' night. If yer don't 
 mind my suggesting I like about three parts rum 
 to one o' molasses. But bear in mind, it's pnly 
 my suggestion." 
 
 The grocer handed a tumbler to the Jedge who 
 lifted the glass and said, "Well, here's what 
 killed dad." He drank the contents with evident 
 relish, after which he wiped his mouth on his 
 sleeve and continued: "Titcomb, do yer realize 
 that we're enjoyin' blessin's denied to less favored 
 mortals ?" 
 
 "In what way?" asked the grocer. 
 
 "I was a-readin' in the Philadelphy Inquiry, 
 that Jamaicy rum and molasses went up five cents 
 a gallon yesterday, an' if we're not careful no- 
 body but millionaires can drink it 4 which is 
 mighty hard on those poor miserable sinners who 
 can't buy it by the year, like me an' you." There- 
 upon the Jedge reached for a second glass of the 
 same mixture. 
 
 "Jedge, have you traveled much?" queried Tit- 
 comb. 
 
 "Oh, well, I should say considerable. I've 
 been all the way to Philadelphy twice, an' I have 
 flucterated roun' other p'ints of the compass be- 
 tween times." 

 
 88 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I asked you this question, Jedge, because I 
 know you are an experienced man of the world. 
 I must confide in some one. I'm in love." 
 
 "I'm a-list'nin'," said the old man, taking a 
 long sip from the tumbler. 
 
 "And what I want to ask you/' said Titcomb, 
 "is this. Is it proper for me to love a lady with- 
 out communicating the fact to her?" 
 
 "That's er enigmy, as scientific men would say, 
 but my opinion offhan' is that yer had better tell 
 her, an' not remain er access' ry before the fact." 
 
 "Jedge, day and night, sleeping and waking, I 
 have thought to tell her, but I've always been 
 afraid. Her image never leaves me, and if I 
 should die, I believe that like that Queen of Eng- 
 land who said that Calais would be engraved on 
 her heart, you wpuld find Mary engraved on 
 mine." 
 
 "Yer've got it bad, Titcomb. 'Tain't no funeril 
 of mine, but I don't think it would be right to 
 keep the lady in the dark." 
 
 "Yes, but what shall I do ? I am afraid to tell 
 her." 
 
 "What are yer afeard of? Don't act like a 
 poor boy at a huskin' ; speak out like a man." 
 
 "You don't understand, Jedge; she is not a
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 89 
 
 single girl, let me tell you, but the mother of a 
 half-grown boy." 
 
 The Jedge jumped up quickly, and, grabbing 
 his tumbler, burst out : 
 
 "Titcomb Jebb, what's this shenanigen yer 
 givin' me?" 
 
 "Sit down, Jedge, you don't understand." 
 
 "I'm ashamed of yer, Titcomb, a-comin' an' 
 askin' me to tell yer how to carry on a flirtation 
 with a married woman. Shame on yer !" 
 
 "You don't understand, Jedge. She was mar- 
 ried once." 
 
 "Married once ; well, an' what is she now ?" 
 
 "She's the Widow Foley." 
 
 "The Widder Foley?" and the Jedge laughed 
 uproariously. "An' to think I was putterin' 'bout 
 an' raisin' Cain 'cause I thought yer wuz tryin' 
 to gallivant round forbidden fruit! But I sees 
 it now. Bully for the widder !" 
 
 After the Jedge had dried his eyes, which were 
 wet from laughter, and had taken a fresh chew of 
 tobacco, he said : 
 
 "Titcomb, she's a fine-lookin' woman. She's as 
 pretty a piece p' calico as yer'll find in this 'ere 
 place; but oh, Lord, she's got a temper." 
 
 "She has much to worry her."
 
 90 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I dunno whether yer can get her workin' in 
 double harness ag'in or not. She had a ornery 
 mate, I've bin tol', when she trotted with Dennis 
 Foley, but mebbe she can be coaxed into the traces 
 onct more." 
 
 "And that's why I want to talk to you. I don't 
 want to break it to her too suddenly." 
 
 "'Tain't necessary fer yer to do that, Titcomb ; 
 jest start in by a-readin' yer po'try to her. Women 
 are powerful fond of nater and sich like things, 
 an' when ye've kind er got her in the runnin', yer 
 can spring the question on her, after her soul has 
 b'en swayed by breezes and treeses, an' doves 
 an' loves, an' if she don't drop like a ripe persim- 
 mon, yer can call me the little end of nuthin'." 
 
 "I'll try your plan, Jedge; it can't do any harm, 
 anyway." 
 
 "'Tain't no woman kin fly in the face of sich 
 po'try as you write, Titcomb, an' I kin already see 
 the lady a-writin' her name, Mrs. Titcomb Jebb," 
 said the old philosopher slowly and impressively. 
 
 "Mrs. Titcomb Jebb," echoed the grocer, happy 
 in the newness of the sound. But he shook his 
 head dubiously. "Jedge, it seems like an impos- 
 sibility." 
 
 "Titcomb," said the old man, rising and going
 
 OLD MAN JEBB 91 
 
 toward the door, "I've blown out the candle more 
 times than you have, therefore I sez I kin see the 
 lady a-writin' her name Mrs. Titcomb Jebb." 
 And the Jedge and his Llewellyn were homeward 
 bound.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHEN THE I<ORD MADE THE RIVER 
 
 Egg-picking was long past; Easter had come 
 and gone; the frost had vanished before the 
 warm breath of spring and the verdure of nature 
 was again on the earth. June in all her splendor 
 was here. Miss Latham's school term was near- 
 ing its end. Examinations were over, and little 
 remained but to pick up the odds and ends of the 
 scholastic year and prepare for the closing exer- 
 cises. 
 
 The day was almost sultry and the morning 
 sun was streaming through the windows of the 
 school-room. That restlessness so common 
 among children, when the days of study have past 
 and the pleasures of summer are calling, was par- 
 ticularly observable, and, in flagrant cases, called 
 forth the teacher's mild censure. 
 
 One boy alone was quiet. It was Sandy. With 
 elbows resting on the desk, his hands supporting 
 his head, he was gazing half dreamily and wist- 
 fully out and beyond the open window near him. 
 92
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 93 
 
 The soft breeze came from the south, lazily rus- 
 tling the leaves of the open book before him, and 
 then, as if tired of the exertion, died away. 
 
 Turning from his reverie, Sandy sighed, then 
 closing the book, looked at Gilbert sitting next to 
 him, and said: "Don't yer think the Lord wuz 
 pleased when He made the river ?" 
 
 Gilbert raised his head and gazed smilingly at 
 the other boy: "You remember what the Bible 
 says, Sandy, And God saw everything that He 
 had made and, behold, it was very good." 
 
 "Yes, I heerd that afore. I disremember jest 
 this minit who said it. It might 'a' been the 
 minister, or mebbe Mr. Parker in Sunday-school, 
 but I heerd it somewhere. An' I knows it's true, 
 'cause it's in the Bible. But is ther' anythin' in 
 the Bible specially 'bout our river?" 
 
 "Hardly," answered the little fellow. "The 
 Bible, of course, does speak of rivers, particularly 
 in Revelation; but, why should it mention just 
 our river, Sandy?" 
 
 "I don't know nuthin' 'bout t'other people's 
 rivers, but I does know our'n backwards, upside 
 down, from the Pencote clear to an' beyond Oys- 
 ter Shell Landin', an' that's mostly all of it. An' 
 it's great! An' that's why I thought mebbe the
 
 94 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Lord wuz specially pleased with the makin' of it, 
 an' said so in the Bible." 
 
 "No, Sandy," answered Gilbert, "I've read the 
 Bible from Genesis to the end, and I'm sure 
 there's nothing about our river." 
 
 "Now yer look a-here, little codger," a sudden 
 animation taking possession of the older boy, as 
 with forefinger moving up and down, he began: 
 "Let's take the river from year in to year out, 
 from January to January. When New Year 
 comes it gits too cold fer to sail a boat or hunt 
 ducks; the river freezes up so yer kin skate, an' 
 play shinny, an' cut yer name on the ice. An' it 
 stays frozen, off an' on, till March. Then the 
 thaw comes an' yer go fishin'. An' the river gits 
 itself full of 'em. Yer put out yer seine an' yer 
 haul in shad an' herrin', an* yer drap yer lines 
 overboard an' yank in rock, an' perch, an' catties, 
 an' so on. 
 
 "Then the river sez, 'spec' yer want a change,' 
 an' it's gittin' roun' spring. The jack-snipes are 
 dartin' an' turnin' like cork-screws, an' the yaller- 
 shanks an' killdees are hoppin' 'long the shore, an' 
 ye're havin' a time with 'em. Then yer goes 
 Mayin' an* watches the swallows skimmin', jest 
 gittin' yer second wind like. But the river don't
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 95 
 
 rest ; it sez to yer, it's mos' time to go swimmin'. 
 An' the water gits warm an' yer tumble in ev'ry 
 day jest as much as yer like, an' about the time the 
 air gits chilly, and ye're tired of swimmin', the 
 ortolan an' reed-birds commences to fly, an' then 
 when they git scarce the ducks are swoopin' down 
 on yer decoys, an' afore yer know it, it's January 
 ag'in." 
 
 Sandy once more looked out of the window in 
 the direction of his beloved river, and drew a long 
 sigh. To him it meant a world of beautiful 
 dreams. 
 
 As a little child he had gathered shells and peb- 
 bles along its shore. When the tide was low he 
 had splashed and waded in its pools. Down by 
 the Old Burnt Bridge he had learned to swim, and 
 from Pencote to Bladensburg he had paddled and 
 sailed, and shot and fished since earliest boyhood. 
 
 And the river! Is it as beautiful as Sandy 
 dreams ? 
 
 Its sinuous channel now winds in and out of 
 the tangle of wild rice marshes; now silently 
 sweeps abreast the banks of green beyond the 
 dotted beds of wankapins and lily-pads; now 
 circles past great emerald hills whose bases are 
 edged with ivoried sand, and shadowed by the
 
 96 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 drooping limbs of weeping willows and gray- 
 hued boughs of mighty oaks. 
 
 Again, straightened and stately, it courses on 
 'twixt lines of latticed reeds, and now, spreading 
 over amber-colored shoals, deep-chested coves and 
 beds of matted grass, it flows with rhythmic 
 grace to meet the waters of the greater stream 
 beyond. 
 
 Sandy's enthusiasm over the river was quickly 
 absorbed by Gilbert. The impatience of the schol- 
 ars, generally, was brought to an end by the ring- 
 ing of the bell and the dismissal of the pupils for 
 the day. When the two boys were outside the 
 building, Sandy said : 
 
 "Gil, if yer don't mind, please take my books 
 home with you, an' I'll come fer 'em after supper. 
 I wants to see somebody 'bout somethin' orful 
 partic'lar, an' I'm in er all-fired hurry." 
 
 "I'll go with you, if you want," volunteered 
 Gilbert 
 
 "I'd ruther not have yer, Gil, an' don't ask me 
 no questions an' I won't tell yer no lies. Mebbe 
 to-night, if I sees yer, I'll tell yer why." 
 
 And Sandy was off like the wind. He stopped 
 in front of a little frame house, the Jedge's 
 humble abode, and found that worthy seated in a
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 97 
 
 large chair on the pleasant porch, back of the 
 kitchen. 
 
 The old man was busily engaged in whittling 
 smooth the knots in a long thin hickory pole in- 
 tended, clearly, for a fishing-rod, as evidenced by 
 the cords, hooks and sinkers lying about. 
 
 As Sandy drew near, the Jedge exclaimed: 
 "Hello, Sandy, yer seem to be in er hurry." 
 
 "Yes, Jedge, I want er have a talk with yer 
 'bout a boat, an' I wants to git it off my mind as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 "Sail right in, my boy, I'm a-list'nin'." 
 
 "Jedge, I was put on the river yesterday lookin' 
 at that boat yer give me two years ago, an' I finds 
 it's done for." 
 
 "I spec' the worms must have nearly chawed it 
 up afore this, Sandy, for it's a powerful old boat." 
 
 "But it's done fer now, Jedge. When I tried 
 to haul her out o' the shed to float her, she jest 
 drapped to pieces, she was so rottin. She 's 
 petered out, sure 'nuff." 
 
 "She wuz a good one, Sandy, an' no mistake. 
 I built her nigh on ter twenty-five years ago. I 
 don't think boats nowadays are put up like they 
 wuz in my time." 
 
 "I spec' that's so, Jedge, an' that's why I come
 
 98 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 to see yer. D'yer think I kin build one as good as 
 her?" 
 
 "Are yer askin' me first hand, Sandy?" 
 
 "I haven't breathed it to a soul, Jedge." 
 
 After a long pause: "D'yer inten' buildin' a 
 keel, or a flat-bottom?" 
 
 "A flat-bottom jumper, Jedge." 
 
 Another long pause, during which the Jedge 
 kept on smoothing the knots in the fishing-rod. 
 
 "Sandy, I've watched yer caref'ly these many 
 years, an' I've seen all along that ye're a biddable 
 boy, an' I haven't failed to tell other folks that 
 ye're a most biddable boy. But I must say, if I 
 don't want to monkey with the truth, to build a 
 boat like that 'ere one I gave yer takes a powerful 
 intellect, to say nothin' of hereditary propensities, 
 as scientific men observe when they mean ye're 
 born a-knowin' how." 
 
 Sandy's face wore a look pf bitter disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 "To put up a boat what won't spring no leak, 
 an' will float an' don't turn over if yer forgit to 
 part yer hair in the middle, is a mighty big job," 
 continued the old man. 
 
 "Well, Jedge, don't yer think I might try?" 
 
 "That's jest what I wuz gittin' to, Sandy. I
 
 SANDY FOUND THE JEDGE SEATED ON THE PORCH Page 97
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 99 
 
 wants yer to do the trick right here in my back 
 yard, under my instructions, which I will give 
 free-gratis-fer-nuthin', without pay, an' if we 
 don't put up the best jumper in this 'ere neck o' 
 the woods, we needn't say so." 
 
 "Thank yer kindly, Jedge. How much will it 
 cost fer the stuff to build 'er?" and Sandy waited 
 eagerly, while the Jedge made a mental calcu- 
 lation. 
 
 "Lemme see; we want two seven-eighths planks 
 o' dressed cedar fer the sides, 'bout four oak 
 knees, one midship mold, a cedar bottom, oak 
 transom, seats an' rudder, bow piece, nails, 
 screws, rivets, oar-locks, stuff to caulk her, sails 
 an' a few other things, besides. I should think 
 we could build her fer eight dollars." 
 
 "D'yer think she could be built fer that much, 
 Jedge?" asked Sandy anxiously. 
 
 "Mebbe, a quarter or fifty cents more, if yer 
 wants to put on luggs; but I spec' that will be 
 'nough to put up a good boat. How much has 
 yer salted away as a starter, Sandy?" 
 
 "I've got thirteen cents now, an' I'm goin' to 
 git fifteen cents more fer carryin' in the minister's 
 coal when I leave here. An' that ain't very much, 
 is it, Jedge?"
 
 100 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "No, that ain't very much, Sandy. If I wuzn't 
 jest a bit strapped fer money, I'd lend yer the bal- 
 ance. But what's in yer mind to git it ?" 
 
 "I thought mebbe I could go out afore light 
 a-fishin' an' peddle what I ketched, an' that 
 wouldn't be hurtin' nobody." 
 
 "That's all right, Sandy, an' I'll speak to Tit- 
 comb Jebb to-night, an' mebbe he '11 take some 
 of yer ketchin' fer the store, an' that would help 
 amazin'. I'll see him afore bedtime, an' you see 
 him fust thing in the mornin', an' find what he'll 
 take of yer ketchin's." 
 
 "I'll do it," said Sandy, "an' mebbe, afore I 
 knows it, I'll have the spondulix, and we kin com- 
 mence on her. I hope the fish '11 bite, at least 
 eight dollars' worth, mighty soon." 
 
 The boy went straight to the minister's house, 
 and shoveled and stored coal for three hours, for 
 which he received the fifteen cents already men- 
 tioned as part of his assets. Then he hurried 
 home, and after eating his simple meal he went 
 to Gilbert's for his books. 
 
 In the months that these boys had become 
 friends, Gilbert had often invited Sandy to his 
 home, but a certain diffidence had caused the older 
 boy always to offer some excuse for staying away.
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER IOI 
 
 The size of the house, and the general air of ma- 
 terial superiority on the part of Gilbert's family, 
 were largely responsible for this shyness. 
 
 Sandy had hoped, as he approached Colonel 
 Franklin's residence, that Gilbert would be under 
 the trees in the yard, or out in the front, but he 
 was disappointed. He stood hesitating for some 
 time, and watched the dwelling until he saw the 
 lights shining brightly through the parlor win- 
 dows. 
 
 Finally he concluded to go around by the 
 kitchen, hoping to meet a servant, who would 
 get his books and allow him to leave unnoticed. 
 He walked slowly up the path that was hidden 
 in the shadow of tall trees. As he neared the 
 house, his attention was arrested by the sounds 
 of music from within. Piano and violin were in 
 duet, and as he leaned against a tree, the clear 
 soft tones of the violin sang out Schumann's ex- 
 quisite Trdumerei. 
 
 "That sounds jest like Heaven," he murmured, 
 and, creeping 'toward the window, he made an ef- 
 fort to see who the players were. 
 
 It was too far from the ground to peer in, so 
 softly he retraced his steps toward the trees. 
 Then, as if by inspiration, he climbed a maple
 
 102 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 directly in front of the parlor, and, sitting astride 
 one of its boughs, full fifteen feet above the 
 ground, he leaned against the trunk, and looked 
 into the window below. 
 
 "Well, I'll be darned ! The little codger never 
 told me he could play the fiddle!" he exclaimed, 
 as he saw Gilbert with a violin, playing for the 
 pleasure of his family. 
 
 The Spring Song, followed by Consolation 
 from Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words, 
 floated out into the velvety June night and held 
 Sandy fascinated and silent under the spell of 
 melody. 
 
 When Gilbert had laid aside his instrument, he 
 came out on the porch with his father. They 
 seated themselves in a large chair, the boy nestling 
 close, pressing his cheek against the parent's. 
 
 "I don't know what was the matter with Sandy 
 to-day; he just flew away after school," said the 
 son, as if the older boy were a subject of para- 
 mount interest to every one at all times. 
 
 "Perhaps he had some errand for his mother," 
 suggested the father tritely. 
 
 "No, I don't think it was that. He was talk- 
 ing about the river, and I believe that had some- 
 thing to do with it."
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 103 
 
 "Maybe it had ; who can tell ?" said the father, 
 with commonplace attention. 
 
 "He told me though, if I didn't ask him any 
 questions he would tell me no lies, and maybe he 
 might tell me to-night, but I'm awfully afraid he 
 won't come." 
 
 "Yes, he will, little codger, fer he's here now," 
 came a voice from above, much to the surprise of 
 the Franklins, father and son. 
 
 "Why, Sandy, is that you up there?" asked 
 Gilbert joyously. 
 
 "I've been up here a-list'nin' to yer playin' the 
 fiddle, an' yer come out afore I could sneak down. 
 So don't think I wuz eavesdroppin'." 
 
 Sandy lowered himself from the tree, and Gil- 
 bert took his hand and pulled the bashful boy 
 toward the porch. 
 
 Colonel Franklin gave Sandy a cordial invita- 
 tion to sit down and feel fully at home. After 
 much demurring, the boy took a place on the top 
 step of the porch where he was joined at once by 
 Gilbert, the father in the meantime enjoying his 
 evening smoke. 
 
 "'Twuzn't no great secret I had on my mind 
 this afternoon, Gil, but I don't like ter say I'm 
 going ter do a thing unless I am sure I kin do it."
 
 104 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "What can't you do, Sandy?" 
 
 "That's jest it. I wuz afeard I might not be 
 able to build a jumper, an' I didn't know exactly 
 what 'twould cost, so afore I would tell you any- 
 thin' about it, I asked the Jedge fust." 
 
 "And what did the Jedge say ?" asked Gilbert, 
 greatly interested. 
 
 "It can be done fust-rate fer eight dollars, an 
 he's goin' to help me." Then Sandy unfolded his 
 plans. Gilbert offered to pay half the cost, but 
 Sandy would not agree. 
 
 "I wants to own ev'ry nail in her, from top-mas' 
 to keel, from stem to gudjin. I wants to enj'y 
 myself invitin' yer to sail in her, Gil, an' I can't 
 if ye're half-boss." 
 
 "I'll lend you the money," persisted the 
 younger. 
 
 "Not muchee, little codger. I'm a-goin' to git 
 it by the sweat o' my brow, ketchin' fish." 
 
 "But it will take some time to catch and sell 
 eight dollars' worth." 
 
 "I knows, but the Jedge is goin' to ask Mr. 
 Jebb to buy what I ketch, an' that'll help along." 
 
 "Fish is mighty good food," said Gilbert, his 
 face brightening with a sudden idea, "and I be- 
 lieve people should eat more of it than they do.
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 105 
 
 Everybody should eat fish, at least twice a day; 
 don't you think so, father?" asked the little fel- 
 low. 
 
 "Medical men say much in favor of the bene- 
 ficial effects of a fish diet. No doubt there is 
 truth in this," spoke the father. 
 
 "I'm sure there is, and I'm going to study up 
 on it right away," added the young son. 
 
 While the two boys sat talking of the boat, Gil- 
 bert's little sister came out to bid father and 
 brother good night. Gilbert, calling her over, 
 said: 
 
 "Lily, this is Sandy Goggles, my Sandy." 
 
 "Yes, I know Sandy," she exclaimed joyfully. 
 "Gil told me all about you, lots and lots of times. 
 You aren't afraid of anything, ghosts, or pirates, 
 or demons, or burglars, or anybody else, even if 
 you've got one hand tied behind you." 
 
 Sandy remained bashfully dumb. 
 
 "I must go to bed now, so I'll say good night," 
 and lovingly she put her arms around his neck 
 and pressed her childish lips to his forehead. 
 "That's one 'cause Gil loves you," then turning 
 his left cheek toward her, "that's another 'cause 
 I love Gil," and again turning his head so as to 
 present his right cheek, "and that's one for good
 
 106 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 measure, and 'cause I love anybody Gil loves. 
 Good night." 
 
 It was the first time in Sandy's life that he had 
 been kissed, save by his mother, and even his 
 freckles grew browner. 
 
 The child and father went into the house leav- 
 ing the boys alone outside. There was a long 
 silence, while they both lay back-down upon the 
 steps, and Sandy finally spoke. 
 
 "Yer never told me yer could play the fiddle, 
 little codger, an' I never know'd there wuz so 
 much music in one till I heard yer play." 
 
 "Oh, pshaw!" said Gilbert carelessly. "I've 
 played the violin since I was six. You know I 
 was in the house so much, it seemed just the thing 
 to do." 
 
 "Yes, an' it wuz the thing to do, an' I'm glad 
 yer done it. My! when I wuz a-settin' up there 
 list'nin' I jest saw Heaven. I never knew afore 
 jest what Heaven looked like. But I kind er saw 
 it plain, 'specially when yer played that 'ere third 
 piece. What der yer name it?" 
 
 "That was a piece by Mendelssohn, called Con- 
 solation." 
 
 "Was yer teach'd it?" asked the other ear- 
 nestly.
 
 WHEN THE LORD MADE THE RIVER 107 
 
 "Oh, not exactly; I had teachers when I stud- 
 ied, but not for that particular piece." 
 
 "Well, I felt it in my bones. I ain't heerd 
 nuthin' like that in a 'coon's age, no, not even 
 afore that. It sounded too good to be teach'd." 
 
 "That's a funny idea," said the younger, smil- 
 ing at Sandy's enthusiasm, "perhaps you never 
 heard as fine a violin as mine." 
 
 "Mebbe not," said Sandy, "but yer fiddle didn't 
 play by itself." 
 
 "No, that is so, but my violin is a very rare 
 make, and I love to play on it," earnestly re- 
 sponded Gilbert. 
 
 "Is it better than any other fiddle?" questioned 
 Sandy, still doubting the power of the instrument 
 without the player's skill. 
 
 "My father says," answered the younger, "vio- 
 lins are like women. The one you love is the best 
 in the world ; so I think mine is." 
 
 "I'm a-takin' that all in, little codger, but I 
 sticks to my p'int to the close; fiddle er no fiddle, 
 if the angels didn't have no hand in the playin' o' 
 that 'ere piece, then I sez I've got no license to 
 go to bed in the dark." 
 
 He walked slowly down the path, stopped a 
 few times and looked back. Gilbert was still sit-
 
 108 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 ting on the porch, his eyes following the retreat- 
 ing figure of his friend. 
 
 Suddenly Sandy stopped and retraced his steps. 
 
 "I came near forgittin' what I was goin' to say, 
 Gi.l. I told yer I wuz a-goin' to build a boat, an* 
 how I was a-goin' to git the money by sellin' 
 fish, but I didn't tell yer I was goin' to call her 
 the Lillian, jest like yer little sister." 
 
 And he was off.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 
 
 "It beats all how that boy hates to get up," 
 and Mrs. Foley called for the tenth time. "Are 
 you up, up there? I do believe boys are like 
 those other reptiles and would sleep six months 
 runnin', if you'd let 'em." She stood with broom 
 raised in the air, about to descend on the cup- 
 board, then with a stroke of it against the door 
 she called again: 
 
 "Thomas, are you up, up there?" 
 
 A mumbling sound from above and all was 
 still again. 
 
 "You imp of darkness ! I have to drive you to 
 bed every night, and I have to drive you out of 
 bed in the mornin', and it's nothing but drive, 
 drive, drive. Here it's nearly six o'clock, there's 
 not a drop of water in the rain-barrel, and I've 
 got three washin's to do, to say nothin' of Sukey 
 Bell a-comin' here to-morrer to help iron. Get 
 up; do you hear me?" 
 
 Another mumbling was heard from above. 
 109
 
 HO PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Thomas Foley," called his mother again, "do 
 you hear me callin', or shall I come up and make 
 you hear?" 
 
 "What's the matter, d'yer want ter wake the 
 dead ?" snarled a voice from up stairs. "I heerd 
 yer callin' an' answered yer." 
 
 "Why didn't you answer louder, and not let me 
 wear myself out a-hollerin' at you?" shouted the 
 mother. 
 
 " 'Tain't no fault o' mine if yer can't hear; bet- 
 ter git er ear-trumpet." 
 
 "Are you up, Thomas?" called back the 
 irate Mrs. Foley. 
 
 "Old Nick hisself couldn't sleep when you're 
 round bellerin' like all out-doors from mornin' to 
 night down there," answered the boy, sitting up 
 in bed and shaking the shuck mattresses vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 "Hurry up down. I want you to fill the rain- 
 barrel, it's getting after six." Then in softer, 
 and more entreating tones, "Hurry up down, 
 that's a good boy." 
 
 "I'll be down directly, mother dear," came in 
 perfect imitation of the inflections of his parent's 
 voice, and the young rascal dropped again on the 
 bed, and, turning so carefully that not the faintest
 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 1 1 1 
 
 rustle was heard, curled up snugly and closed his 
 eyes. His brain dozed and his body rested, but 
 his ear was on the alert. 
 
 "She's cleanin' up the kitchen," said the ear, 
 "an' sweepin' the dirt inter the gutter. She's 
 list'nin' to Nellie Pendleton's mocking-bird 
 whistlin' fer the doctor's dog that's runnin' up 
 and down the street lookin' fer his master." 
 
 The auricular picket reported the mother's re- 
 turn to the house and her determined strides as 
 she approached the stairs leading to the bedroom. 
 
 "Tom Foley, I'll give you jest two minits to 
 get down stairs, or I'll skin you alive." 
 
 The boy jumped from the bed, made a dash for 
 his clothes in the corner of the room, and hastily 
 dressed. Then calling, "Don't fash yerself, I'm 
 puttin' on my duds as fast as I kin," he shortly 
 appeared at the landing. "Fooled yer that time, 
 didn't I? Spec' yer thought I wuz in bed 
 a-snoozin', when I was makin' my twilight an' 
 jest dyin' to see yer." 
 
 "Now do hurry, Tom, and fetch the water," 
 requested Mrs. Foley coaxingly, making at the 
 same time a vain effort to smooth the rumpled 
 collar on her son's shirt. 
 
 "Yer ain't goin' to make me work like a nigger
 
 1 1 2 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 afore I've had my grub, are yer?" whimpered 
 the boy. 
 
 "Jest run and get me a pail of water, and I'll 
 have your breakfast ready when you get back," 
 soothingly said the mother, preparing a place at 
 the table for Tom. 
 
 "I won't get no water till I'm fed. My stom- 
 ach feels like my throat's cut. I want er eat fust." 
 
 "I never did starve you, Tom, and if I give you 
 both molasses and butter for your bread, some 
 honey, fried eggs, cold meat and hot coffee, will 
 you promise to carry the water and won't run 
 away like you did yesterday ?" 
 
 "Gimme my grub fust, I ain't goin' to promise 
 nuthin' while I'm starvin'." 
 
 The mother placed the food before her boy and 
 he ate voraciously. After he had devoured every- 
 thing on the table, he got up and walked to the 
 door leading to the street. When he was well 
 without, he called to his mother: "Eh, old 
 woman, carry yer own water; over the river, 
 ta-ta !" and away he went as fast as his miserable 
 legs could carry him. 
 
 Mrs. Foley, standing in the doorway, heard his 
 parting shot, and stood motionless in a stare as he 
 scampered away.
 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 113 
 
 "What will become of him? 'Tain't no use 
 tryin' kindness, he's too ornery to appreciate it. 
 It's the sins of the father visitin' the child, and 
 God knows, he's gettin' more and more like Den- 
 ' nis Foley every day." Sadly, and with just the 
 suspicion of a tear, she picked up the water- 
 buckets and started for the pump. 
 
 Sandy and Titcomb were in earnest conversa- 
 tion as Mrs. Foley drew near. The grocer left 
 the other and walked toward the widow. 
 
 "A very beautiful morning, Mrs. Foley," he 
 began. 
 
 "I hope it is to the rest of the world, Mr. 
 Jebb; it's anything but beautiful to me." 
 
 "I sincerely trust your health is good," this 
 with great solicitude. 
 
 " 'Tain't no bodily ailment, Mr. Jebb; it's that 
 boy of mine. He no sooner stuffs himself than 
 he lights out, and lets me fetch water and work 
 like a heathen Turk." 
 
 "Allow me to fill the buckets for you," offer- 
 ing to take them from her. 
 
 "Oh, law, no indeed, Mr. Jebb! If it was jest 
 one pailful I wouldn't mind, but I can't let you 
 work for me." She moved toward the pump. 
 
 Titcomb gently took the pails, saying, "Mrs.
 
 114 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Foley, if you'll watch the store Sandy and I will 
 fill the barrels for you." 
 
 When the man and boy were beyond earshot, 
 Jebb said : "Sandy, I've promised to buy all the 
 fish you catch, at five cents a dozen." 
 
 "That's what I understan'," answered the 
 youth. 
 
 "Now, Sandy, if you will fill Mrs. Foley's rain- 
 barrels every day I'll give you ten cents a dozen 
 for all you bring me. Is it a bargain?" 
 
 "Jest watch me an' see if it ain't a bargain," 
 Sandy quickly replied. 
 
 "Remember though, on your honor, not a word 
 to the widow, except that you are anxious to 
 carry the water." 
 
 "I'll 'tend to that, Mr. Jebb, don't fear," and 
 Sandy winked knowingly. 
 
 When they returned with the water, Mrs. 
 Foley had seated herself in a chair fashioned from 
 an old flour-barrel. The boy, still holding the 
 buckets, said: 
 
 "Mrs. Foley, I've jest been itchin' to carry 
 water for anybody as would let me. Yer see, 
 down at my house, the landlord, he built an arte- 
 sian well by the kitchen an' the pump nozzle comes 
 right in the door, an' I don't git no more exer-
 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 1 1 5 
 
 cise, 'cause the water runs by itself. If yer don't 
 really mind, I'll be much obliged if yer'll let me 
 fill yer rain-barrels every day." 
 
 "Oh, Sandy," said Mrs. Foley, "I don't know 
 whether I ought to let you, when I have a good- 
 for-nothing boy that ought to do it for me." 
 
 "Mebbe Tom's got the spring fever, an' it's 
 struck in. I jest escaped it by the skin o' my 
 teeth, a-sweatin' it off choppin' kindlin's an' that. 
 Why, I'm jest itchin' to fill yer rain-barrels." 
 
 "Well, as you want to so badly, I'll let you, and 
 thank you for your kindness." 
 
 "Yer jest set down an' talk to Mr. Jebb, an' 
 watch me enj'y myself." Off went Sandy, swing- 
 ing the buckets in circles about his head. 
 
 "What a blessing a boy like Sandy is!" said 
 the grocer, pointing in the direction of the pump. 
 
 "Just one in a million; no monkey-shines; 
 'tends to business strictly. Sandy is a prize pack- 
 age in a pile of blanks," replied Mrs. Foley. 
 
 "I believe he will make a fine man," added the 
 grocer. 
 
 "Mebbe, if he don't get sp'iled in the makin'," 
 
 "But why should he?" asked Titcomb. 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, boys grow into very foxy men 
 sometimes. There was my man, Dennis Foley.
 
 Il6 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 It seemed as though butter wouldn't melt in his 
 mouth when he was courtin' me." 
 
 "Those must have been happy days," half- 
 whispered the grocer sentimentally. 
 
 "I thought so, then," wearily spoke the other. 
 "Dennis chased and chased and chased me for 
 months, afore I married him, and then, I had to 
 do the chasin'." 
 
 "All men are not so changeable, Mrs. Foley." 
 
 "Mebbe not all, but they're a mighty foxy 
 crowd, as a rule, and I have no confidence in 'em." 
 
 "Oh, well, perhaps some day your views will 
 change." 
 
 "I ain't seein' how they will," mechanically re- 
 plied the widow. 
 
 "How do you know but, sometime, somebody 
 will come knocking at your door?" 
 
 "And you bet I'll be out," laughingly said Mrs. 
 Foley. 
 
 "Do you like poetry?" tenderly inquired Tit- 
 comb, remembering the Jedge's injunction. 
 
 "Po'try? Po'try? That was Dennis' strong 
 suit. Afore we were married he used to write on 
 every piece of paper he came across, 'If you love 
 me as I love you, no knife can cut our love in 
 two ;' but after we settled down, he was shoutin',
 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 117 
 
 'We won't go home till mornin'/ and he never did, 
 unless he was carried. Thank you, but no po'try 
 in mine." 
 
 "Ah, yes, but life is hopeless without poetry," 
 earnestly remonstrated the grocer. 
 
 "Fiddlesticks, Mr. Jebb ! po'try don't go with a 
 hard day's washin'. Poor folks like me don't 
 have time for such foolishness," and she 
 snapped her fingers scornfully. 
 
 "You should find time." 
 
 "When?" she asked. 
 
 "Now any time. Every minute counts in this 
 world. Sandy is bringing water; you can't do 
 your washing until the barrels are full ; what bet- 
 ter could you do than hear a few lines of my 
 poetry?" 
 
 "Your po'try?" exclaimed the widow in amaze- 
 ment. "That's a horse of another color, Mr. 
 Jebb. I was afraid you meant the 'no-knife-can- 
 cut-our-love-in-two' kind, but your po'try, that's 
 all right. The one about granulated sugar is 
 mighty good ; Sukey Bell sings it to a nice chune 
 when she sprinkles the clothes." 
 
 "What I'm about to read to you is a poem en- 
 titled Juno. It is a secret avowal as it were 
 so to speak I might say of a lonely heart to a
 
 Il8 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 fair lady." Clearing his throat, Titcomb read : 
 
 "When the jacksnipe leaves the marsh, 
 And the robin seeks its nest, 
 When the nightingale 
 Spreads out his tail, 
 And scoots for the Golden West ; 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 'Way down by the trysting tree. 
 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 
 Wherever you may be, 
 
 In trouble dire, 
 
 Or house on fire, 
 
 My love, I will come to thee." 
 
 "I do declare, Mr. Jebb, that just makes me 
 feel goose-fleshy all over." Then watching 
 Sandy: "I really b'lieve that boy will run that 
 pump dry afore he fills the barrels. Excuse me 
 interrupting I ain't used to po'try like that." 
 
 Mr. Jebb went on : 
 
 "When the tomtit tunes his pipe, 
 And the clock strikes half-past eight, 
 Oh, why ; oh, why, 
 Do I sadly sigh, 
 
 And say, though it's getting late, 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 'Way down by the trysting tree? 
 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 Wherever you may be, 
 Though it may be wet, 
 You need not fret, 
 My love, I will come tojthee."
 
 MR. JEBB'S WOOING 119 
 
 "That's mighty spunky, and I like spunky peo- 
 ple," said the listener. " 'Tain't every fellow 
 would do that, leastwise, if he didn't have an um- 
 brella and gums," and she again looked toward 
 the pump. "I do believe Sandy will wear himself 
 out fillin' that barrel. Pardon my lack of parlor 
 manners and a-continually interruptin' you, Mr. 
 Jebb. Please go on with the story; it's awfully 
 interestin'." 
 
 "This is the last verse with the refrain," and 
 Titcomb stood up. 
 
 "When the turtle-dovelets coo, 
 This vow I humbly make ; 
 Noon or night, 
 Dark or light, 
 
 Tired, hungry, asleep, awake, 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 'Way down by the trysting tree. 
 
 My love, I will come to thee, 
 
 Though you live beyond the sea, 
 
 And the whale may wail, 
 
 And the hail may hail, 
 
 But, my love, I will come to thee." 
 
 "It's beautiful," said Mrs. Foley, "it's all so 
 nacherel ; you can see him all the time. And what 
 did you say was the lady's name?" 
 
 "Juno," he replied. 
 
 "Well, Juno ought to feel as happy as a clam
 
 120 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 at high tide," said Mrs. Foley. "I would if I 
 was Juno/* 
 
 "Would you?" said Jebb quickly and with un- 
 reserved enthusiasm. 
 
 "Yes, I would, if I hadn't no encumbrance, and 
 Sandy Sandy, law, boy, how much water 
 have you took to the house? It ain't no steam- 
 boat." 
 
 Sandy came, stood beside the widow, and 
 spoke: "I've filled the barrils, an' set the b'iler 
 on the stove. Yer bluin' tank is full, chock-a- 
 block, an' yer scrubbin' tub's runnin' over, an' I 
 thank yer, Mrs. Foley, cordial fer lettin' me carry 
 the water." 
 
 The widow looked at the two fully half a min- 
 ute. Man and boy stared into vacancy and moved 
 with a suggestion of fidgets. 
 
 "It beats me," she said slowly. 
 
 Titcomb and Sandy watched her as she walked 
 to her house. 
 
 And thus ended the first chapter of Jebb's woo- 
 ing.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 
 
 "Boys!" Miss Latham stood behind the desk 
 and cast a benign look over her pupHs. Books 
 were closed, whispering ceased, and the school 
 awaited the teacher's further remarks. 
 
 "I desire to state that the scholastic year closes 
 on Friday next. It has been a year fraught with 
 interest, and I trust its manifold opportunities 
 have not been lost on any one of you. I am about 
 to prepare the program for our final exercises on 
 Monday, and I wish to ask what scholars are pre- 
 pared to volunteer numbers for the occasion." 
 
 A long silence ensued, and then Sandy raised 
 his hand. 
 
 "What is it, Sandy?" 
 
 "Miss Maisie, I wish yer would ask the little 
 feller to bring his fiddle an' play. He jest beats 
 anythin' yer ever heerd playin'." 
 
 "What do you say, Gilbert?" 
 
 "W T hy, Miss Maisie, if you would really like it, 
 I'll bring my violin with pleasure,"
 
 122 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "It will be delightful, and I thank you; also 
 Sandy for the suggestion." Up went Sandy's 
 hand again. 
 
 "Mebbe the little codger'll speak that piece, 
 The Charge of the Light Brigade. I heerd him 
 say it an' it sounded like it really happened. Me 
 an' Dink an' Curley heerd him say it." 
 
 "Gilbert, may we presume on your good na- 
 ture?" 
 
 "Of course, Miss Maisie, if you care to have 
 me to do both." 
 
 Sandy patted Gilbert on the shoulder approv- 
 ingly, for his cheerful willingness. 
 
 Dink next attracted the attention of Miss La- 
 tham: "Well, Elijah, what is it?" 
 
 "Please ma'am," said Elijah, alias Dink, "Mr. 
 Jebb read me a piece of po'try an' gimme a stick 
 of peppermint fer list'nin' t'other day, an' I spec' 
 he'll do it ag'in if yer ask him." 
 
 "A good suggestion, Elijah; I will see him 
 about it personally." 
 
 "Lemme go an' tell him," volunteered Dink, as 
 visions of more candy loomed up large before 
 him. 
 
 "No," observed the teacher thoughtfully, "I 
 think perhaps it would be better for me to write
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 123 
 
 a note and invite him to take part in our exer- 
 cises." 
 
 "That's all right, ma'am, if he brings 'nough 
 knickknacks fer list'nin'. I'm powerful fond o' 
 Mr. Jebb's po'try, when the knickknacks is 
 thrown in, an' that's why I'd like to go on the 
 errand to him." 
 
 "I'll allow you to deliver the note to Mr. Jebb." 
 
 "That'll do most as good as if I tol' him to his 
 face," said Dink with evident satisfaction. 
 
 "Now, let me see," said the teacher, drumming 
 a pencil against her teeth. "First, we'll have a 
 prayer by the Reverend Nathaniel Mosher, then 
 a song by the class, Oh, How I Love the Merry, 
 Merry Sunshine; next a recitation, The Charge 
 of the Light Brigade; address to the school by 
 Mr. W. B. Parker; violin solo by Gilbert Frank- 
 lin; and possibly a poem by Mr. Jebb, followed 
 by presentation of the medal and premium books, 
 and closing with the benediction. Just before the 
 distribution of prizes I shall make a few remarks, 
 and that will be sufficient for the occasion. Re- 
 member, you may invite your relatives and 
 friends ; the hour will be eleven A. M." 
 
 Monday came, and with it enough visitors to 
 crowd the little school-room. The Franklins,
 
 124 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Mrs. Dabney and Zorah, Mrs. Foley, Mrs. Gog- 
 gles and Titcomb Jebb were prominent in the 
 gathering. Near the door stood the Jedge, mak- 
 ing himself useful by directing the visitors to 
 their seats, and, with kindly comments, spreading 
 a spirit of good humor. 
 
 "These 'ere occasions," he was saying to Doc- 
 tor Mosher, "are chock full of interest to them 
 folks that feels the need of eddication. Eddica- 
 tion an' book-1'arnin' are all right when yer can't 
 nacherly git the heft o' things. I seen a pig in a 
 circus onct, an' he could play cards an' drink 
 whisky. He wuz jest eddicated to it. Eddica- 
 tion's great. I believe in the young idea 1'arnin' 
 to shoot, even if it don't hit nuthin'." 
 
 The exercises opened with prayer. Gilbert's 
 recitation was a great success, and his violin solo 
 met with storms of applause. As it died away, 
 Mr. Jebb walked to the platform, took out a roll 
 of manuscript, and looked over the assembled 
 gathering with a kindly eye and cordial air. He 
 spoke: 
 
 "Miss Latham, ladies and gentlemen, boys and 
 girls, and all others : You will perceive on perus- 
 ing the order of exercises for this most important 
 day, that my name is down for an original poem,
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 125 
 
 written expressly for the occasion. This way- 
 ward thought I have entitled, The Feast of the 
 Monkeys." 
 Jebb read slowly and distinctly : 
 
 THE FEAST OF THE MONKEYS 
 
 In days of old, 
 
 So I've been told, 
 
 The monkeys gave a feast. 
 
 They sent out cards, 
 
 With kind regards, 
 
 To every bird and beast. 
 
 The guests came dressed, 
 
 In fashion's best, 
 
 Unmindful of expense ; 
 
 Except the whale, 
 
 Whose swallowtail, 
 
 Was " soaked " for fifty cents. 
 
 The guests checked wraps, 
 
 Canes, hats and caps ; 
 
 And when that task was done, 
 
 The footman he 
 
 With dignitee, 
 
 Announced them one by one. 
 
 In Monkey Hall, 
 
 The host met all, 
 
 And hoped they'd feel at ease, 
 " I scarcely can," 
 
 Said the Black and Tan, 
 "I'm busy hunting fleas." 
 
 " While waiting for 
 A score or more 
 Of guests," the hostess said,
 
 126 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "We'll have the Poodle 
 
 Sing Yankee Doodle, 
 
 A-standing on his head. 
 
 And when this through, 
 
 Good Parrot, you, 
 
 Please show them how you swear.* 
 "Oh, dear; don't cuss," 
 
 Cried the Octopus, 
 
 And he walked off on his ear. 
 
 The Orang-Outang 
 A sea-song sang, 
 About a Chimpanzee 
 Who went abroad, 
 In a drinking gourd, 
 To the coast of Barberee. 
 Where he heard one night, 
 When the moon shone bright, 
 A school of mermaids pick 
 Chromatic scales 
 From off their tails, 
 And did it mighty slick. 
 
 "All guests are here, 
 To eat the cheer, 
 And dinner's served, my Lord." 
 The butler bowed ; 
 And then the crowd 
 Rushed in with one accord. 
 The fiddler-crab 
 Came in a cab, 
 And played a piece in C ; 
 While on his horn, 
 The Unicorn 
 Blew, You'll Remember Me.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 127 
 
 " To give a touch 
 
 Of early Dutch 
 
 To this great feast of feasts, 
 
 I'll drink ten drops 
 
 Of Holland's schnapps," 
 
 Spoke out the King of Beasts. 
 " That must taste fine," 
 
 Said the Porcupine, 
 " Did you see him smack his lip ?" 
 " I'd smack mine, too," 
 
 Cried the Kangaroo, 
 " If I didn't have the pip." 
 
 The Lion stood, 
 And said: " Be good 
 Enough to look this way ; 
 Court Etiquette 
 Do not forget, 
 And mark well what I say : 
 My royal wish 
 Is ev'ry dish 
 Be tasted first by me." 
 " Here's where I smile," 
 Said the Crocodile, 
 And he climbed an axle-tree. 
 
 The soup was brought, 
 
 And quick as thought, 
 
 The Lion ate it all. 
 "You can't beat that," 
 
 Exclaimed the Cat, 
 "For monumental gall." 
 " The soup," all cried. 
 " Gone," Leo replied, 
 " 'Twas just a bit too thick." 
 "When we get through," 
 
 Remarked the Gnu, 
 "I'll hit him with a brick."
 
 128 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 The Tiger stepped, 
 Or, rather, crept, 
 Up where the Lion sat. 
 " O, mighty boss 
 I'm at a loss 
 To know where I am at. 
 I came to-night 
 With appetite 
 To drink and also eat; 
 As a Tiger grand, 
 I now demand, 
 I get there with both feet" 
 
 The Lion got 
 
 All-fired hot 
 
 And in a passion flew. 
 
 " Get out," he cried, 
 
 " And save your hide, 
 You most offensive You" 
 
 " I'm not afraid," 
 The Tiger said, 
 
 " I know what I'm about" 
 But the Lion's paw 
 Reached the Tiger's jaw, 
 And he was good and out 
 
 The salt-sea smell 
 
 Of Mackerel, 
 
 Upon the air arose ; 
 
 Bach hungry guest 
 
 Great joy expressed, 
 
 And "sniff!" went every nose. 
 
 With glutton look 
 
 The Lion took 
 
 The spiced and sav'ry dish. 
 
 Without a pause 
 
 He worked his jaws, 
 
 And gobbled all the fish.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 129 
 
 Then ate the roast, 
 
 The quail on toast, 
 
 The pork, both fat and lean; 
 
 The jam and lamb, 
 
 The potted ham, 
 
 And drank the kerosene. 
 
 He raised his voice: 
 " Come, all rejoice, 
 
 You've seen your monarch dine." 
 " Never again," 
 
 Clucked the Hen, 
 
 And all sang Old Lang Syne. 
 
 Jebb rolled his manuscript carefully, and put it 
 back into his pocket. 
 
 "I desire to state, boys, that the Jedge will hand 
 each of you a package of knickknacks, as you file 
 out after the exercises." 
 
 "I know'd he brung some," whispered Dink; 
 "there ain't no po'try that fits in with knick- 
 knacks like Mr. Jebb's, an' I wuz anxious all the 
 time he wuz readin' fer fear he had fergotten 'em. 
 Jimmineddy, I wish the show wuz over now 1" 
 
 The grocer's announcement met with vocifer- 
 ous applause. As conclusion, Miss Latham called 
 the names of those pupils fortunate enough to re- 
 ceive prizes. 
 
 The gold medal went to Gilbert for general ex- 
 cellence in scholarship and deportment. 
 
 "In English grammar and history," read Miss
 
 130 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Latham from the list, "Master James Bray." A 
 large-headed, undersized boy came forward to 
 claim his book. 
 
 "For reading and Constitution of the United 
 States, Master Sidney Robinson." A nervous 
 lad, with puffy eyes, walked to the desk and ac- 
 cepted eagerly his volume, returning hastily to 
 his seat. 
 
 "For penmanship and spelling, Master Edward 
 Grimes." As the aforesaid youngster sought his 
 place, he scanned with eager eyes the title of the 
 book that had been handed him. 
 
 At this point, Miss Latham stepped forward, 
 and spoke while every member of the class lis- 
 tened with breathless attention. 
 
 "Before bestowing the last premium, a few 
 words will perhaps not be amiss. I have in my 
 class one whose life has not been rich in the op- 
 portunities vouchsafed most boys. His father 
 fought in the war, and was sacrificed on the altar 
 of patriotism. Up to within a year this lad has 
 helped to support his mother by selling papers, and 
 turning a hand to any other honest endeavor. I 
 take extreme pleasure in announcing that the 
 prize for arithmetic and geography is awarded to 
 Master Alexander Goggles."
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 131 
 
 Gilbert was on his feet in an instant and 
 jumped for sheer joy. 
 
 "Hurrah for Sandy!" he cried; "come on, 
 boys, three cheers for Sandy Goggles !" 
 
 During the outburst of shouts and applause, the 
 fortunate pupil went forward, with face red and 
 perspiring, and received his prize from the min- 
 ister. 
 
 "Yer could 'a' knocked me down with a feather, 
 I wuz so flabbergasted," explained Sandy, as he 
 described his sensations, "an' I'd never have got 
 it, little codger, if you hadn't fust show'd me." 
 
 The benediction was spoken and the audience 
 slowly dispersed. 
 
 Sandy good-naturedly took Gilbert's violin case 
 out of his hand, and, insisting on carrying it, 
 walked ahead. 
 
 Dark-eyed Zorah, finding her way through the 
 crowd, intercepted Gilbert and asked demurely, 
 "Do you remember me?" 
 
 "Don't I, though?" answered the little fellow 
 gallantly. 
 
 "Teacher hasn't sent me home once since I saw 
 you," volunteered Zorah. 
 
 "And I trust she never will again," added the 
 other.
 
 132 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I've been thinking lots about you," this very 
 archly. 
 
 "Oh, say now" began Gilbert, but her earnest- 
 ness kept back the banter that was on his lips. 
 
 "I remember what you said about gipsy queens, 
 about their hair, their eyes and their skin. Is 
 there anything else lovely about them that you 
 can think of ?" 
 
 "Oh, lots, and I'll tell you volumes sometime," 
 said the boy. 
 
 "But I do want to hear about them now," and 
 she clasped her hands in supplication. "Tell me 
 just about one of them, where she lived and how 
 she got married." 
 
 "Some day, when I have time, I'll tell you 
 about a beautiful one." 
 
 "How old was she?" interrupted Zorah. 
 
 "I should say she was all of twelve," this 
 with a quizzical and half-amused expression on 
 the part of Gilbert. 
 
 "That's just what I am, all of twelve; I was 
 twelve last May. I was born in May, you know, 
 on the fifth, half-past ten. Mama gave me a 
 birthday party, and Aunt Harriet baked the love- 
 liest birthday cake, and Mr. Pigott, he's my sis- 
 ter Crissie's steady company and they're going
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 133 
 
 to get married just as soon as he gets a raise in 
 wages; which will be next fall if all signs don't 
 fail and what was I saying?" 
 
 "You spoke of Mr. Pigott." 
 
 "Oh, yes, I remember. Mr. Pigott bought 
 twelve real wax candles, and we stuck them all 
 around the cake t one for each year since I was 
 born, and after supper we lit them and they looked 
 beaut'ful. And Dink blew one out when no one 
 was looking, and bit half of it off for chewing 
 gum. When Crissie tried to take it away from 
 him, he swallowed it, wick and all. Oh, we had 
 a dreadful time with Dink that night. He had 
 pains all over." 
 
 The voluble maiden stopped short, from sheer 
 exhaustion of lung power. 
 
 "My story," continued Gilbert, "will also tell 
 of an old witch." 
 
 "I know," broke in the irrepressible Zorah, 
 "witches dance ring-around-rosy, and say 'Double, 
 double, toil and trouble, fire burn, cal'on 
 bubble.' Crissie and Mr. Pigott saw them at 
 Shakespeare's, and the next night they turned 
 down the parlor lamp and showed our folks just 
 what the witches did, and it was dreadful." She 
 rolled her eyes dramatically.
 
 134 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Well, the old witch was in the habit of mak- 
 ing the little black-haired maiden get up early 
 every morning, wash her face, braid her hair, 
 darn her stockings and sew her frock." 
 
 "I sewed my frock when I was only five," ex- 
 plained the little coquette, with an air of superior- 
 ity. "I couldn't put it on afterward because I 
 sewed it together. Aunt Harriet had to rip it, 
 and mama was so mad she nearly made up her 
 mind to whip me. Wasn't that dreadful?" 
 
 Her eyes sparkled with suppressed mischief, 
 and, clasping her hand on Gilbert's arm, she whis- 
 pered, "Please go on." 
 
 "I will tell you the whole story ," volunteered 
 the boy, "when we get to my house. Under the 
 trees you can listen and I can remember better." 
 
 They met Sandy, and the three sat under a 
 great oak in the grove fronting Colonel Frank- 
 lin's house. Zorah threw herself full length on 
 the grass, and said : 
 
 "Please go on." 
 
 Sandy lay with his arms under his neck and 
 gazed toward the heavens, waiting. Gilbert, who 
 had read his favorite stories so often that he knew 
 them almost word for word, now began:
 
 SANDY GOT UP BEFORE DAY TO GO TO THE RIVER TO FISH 
 
 Page 100
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 135 
 
 THE STORY OF THE QUEEN OF THE 
 GIPSIES 
 
 The King of the Gipsies was sitting on his 
 throne in a shaded nook of the woodland dell. He 
 was old and feeble, and knew that, in a few years, 
 at the most, he would be gathered to sleep with 
 those who had reigned before him. 
 
 He summoned a page and commanded him to 
 bid his son, the Heir Apparent, to come before his 
 royal presence. In an instant, the Prince entered 
 the chamber, bowing low. 
 
 "Sire, what may be your pleasure?" 
 
 He spoke reverently, and with deep filial sym- 
 pathy, as he beheld his aged and withered royal 
 parent. 
 
 "My son, the twilight shadows of life's horizon 
 are closing in upon me, and 'tis but meet that you 
 should prepare to assume the scepter when it falls- 
 from my grasp." 
 
 "Sadly and sorrowfully do I hear you, Sire,'* 
 solemnly said the Prince Braveheart, for so he 
 was named. 
 
 "Harken unto my voice, oh, my son ! We de- 
 sire that you go forth into the great world and 
 choose the one who is to be your wife and the
 
 136 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Queen of the Gipsies, when I have passed be- 
 yond, and you are King." 
 
 "Most lovable father and gracious sovereign, I 
 pray that you may continue to reign for many 
 years to come, but, if I must go forth and find 
 the maid who is to be my helpmeet and my Queen, 
 I pray you, what must her virtues be?" And 
 Prince Braveheart knelt before the King. 
 
 "By the laws written on the tablets of gold, she 
 who is to be the Gipsy Queen must possess three 
 charms beyond those of any other maid in all the 
 world the brightest eyes, the blackest hair, and 
 the pearliest teeth." 
 
 " 'Tis well," said the Prince, kissing his father's 
 proffered hand, and at the same moment receiv- 
 ing the parental blessing. 
 
 "Go, my son." 
 
 "I will find her, be the quest never so difficult," 
 and with great respect and ceremony he with- 
 drew from the royal presence. 
 
 Prince Braveheart called for his beautiful black 
 charger, and commanding his faithful Yeoman 
 and his equally faithful Bowman to follow, he 
 immediately set out upon his journey. The party 
 traveled from village to village, from town to 
 town, from city to city, and from country to coun-
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 137 
 
 try, gazing into feminine eyes, scrutinizing femi- 
 nine ringlets, examining feminine teeth, but all to 
 no avail. Again and again their hopes were raised 
 high, only to be dashed to the earth. Eyes would 
 be found divinely beautiful in one maiden ; hair as 
 black as night in another; teeth like rows of 
 pearls in a third, but never was a maid found com- 
 bining all these three attributes. Wearily they 
 wandered on and on. 
 
 One afternoon, the Prince with his Yeoman 
 and his Bowman, dust-stained and hungry, sat 
 beside a spring eating their frugal meal. Just as 
 the Prince leaned over the pool of sparkling water 
 to fill his cup, a merry peal of silvery laughter 
 awoke the silence. 
 
 "By my halidom!" he cried, almost tumbling 
 into the spring from excitement, "but that is 
 music to mine ear!" 
 
 "It are to mine," said the Yeoman. 
 
 "It am to mine.," said the Bowman. 
 
 At which the observant Prince called the Yeo- 
 man's attention to his error in using a singular 
 subject with a plural verb, and the Bowman's at- 
 tention to his use of the first person instead of the 
 third. 
 
 As he finished this criticism there bounded into
 
 138 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 his presence a beautiful maiden, who, startled at 
 the sight of strangers, stopped short suddenly. 
 
 "By my halidom!" repeated the Prince, "this 
 is a rare adventure." And he assumed a deferen- 
 tial attitude before the maiden. 
 
 Shyly, but with a trusting heart, she allowed 
 him to lead her to a rustic bench beside the spring. 
 
 The Yeoman and the Bowman kept on eating. 
 
 "Fair angel," rapturously cried the Prince, 
 "whence, oh, whence came those beautiful eyes?" 
 
 "They were plucked from the heavens above, 
 kind sir, where nightly they twinkled," said she 
 demurely. 
 
 "And ah !" exclaimed the Prince, "your hair is 
 as black as the raven's wing." 
 
 "I'm told a little blacker, kind sir," and she 
 smiled bewitchingly. 
 
 "And your teeth, radiant one, are veritable 
 pearls." 
 
 "And more evenly set than pearls could ever be, 
 dental men have told me." She spoke with a 
 knowledgeable air. 
 
 "I am the Prince Braveheart, beauteous vision. 
 I love you, and would make you my bride." And 
 he knelt before her. 
 
 The Yeoman and the Bowman kept on eating.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 1 39 
 
 "Good sir, mayhap 'tis best that you should see 
 my grandmother first, for she is the arbiter of my 
 love affairs. She's a very experienced person." 
 
 "Your grandmother! and where might she be 
 found?" 
 
 "In her hut, high up on the mountain side, just 
 beyond the Glen of the Four-Fanged Wolf." The 
 maid pointed to a spot at the end of a winding 
 road, thousands of feet above them. 
 
 The Prince arose quickly and cried to his serv- 
 itors : 
 
 "What ho!" 
 
 At which the Yeoman and the Bowman got up, 
 brushed the crumbs from their clothes, lighted 
 their cigarettes, and led forth the beautiful black 
 charger. 
 
 "I will run ahead and tell grandmother you are 
 coming." 
 
 "Nay, nay, my treasure," said the Prince, in- 
 tercepting her. "Mount you upon my beautiful 
 black charger, and I will lead him." 
 
 Whereupon the little sprite was placed in the 
 saddle, and with the Prince at the charger's head, 
 and the Yeoman and the Bowman bringing up 
 the rear, they wended their way up the lonely 
 mountain road.
 
 140 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 As they rode on, Millicentine, which was the 
 maiden's name, had a splendid opportunity to ob- 
 serve the Prince. He was tall, with fine shoul- 
 ders, and not stout. His hair was a beautiful red, 
 and his face was dotted with delightful little 
 freckles that lent charm and color most unusual. 
 
 Millicentine was deeply impressed, and before 
 they had reached her grandmother's cottage she 
 was already in love with the stranger. 
 
 Her grandmother sat dozing in the sitting- 
 room and did not hear them coming up the steps. 
 They walked in without knocking, and the Prince, 
 with hat pressed to his heart, said : 
 
 "Madam, I am the Prince Braveheart." 
 
 The Yeoman, also with hat pressed to his heart, 
 said: 
 
 "Madam, I am the Yeoman to the Prince 
 Braveheart." 
 
 Likewise the Bowman, with hat pressed to his 
 heart, said: 
 
 "Madam, I am the Bowman to the Prince 
 Braveheart." 
 
 And they all sat down. 
 
 Without delay the Prince came to the subject 
 of his mission, and in fewest words made known 
 his desire.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 141 
 
 The old woman was not a grandmother at all, 
 but a witch ; a reformed one, it is true, but still a 
 witch, and heartless and mercenary. With loll- 
 ing head and closed eyes, she listened as the 
 Prince pleaded for the hand of Millicentine. 
 When he had finished, she said in piping tones : 
 
 "That sounds very well for Millicentine, but 
 where do I come in?" 
 
 Which was a poser for every one. 
 
 The Yeoman looked at the Bowman, the Bow- 
 man looked at the Prince, and the Prince looked 
 at Millicentine, who clasped her hands and held 
 her breath. 
 
 "Upon what conditions can I claim her as my 
 bride?" asked the Prince of the selfish Witch. 
 
 "Fetch me, within a year, a bag of California 
 gold, a bag of Australian gold, and the pigeon- 
 blood ruby that hangs from the neck of the Toltec 
 Queen/' said the crafty and cold-blooded old 
 woman. 
 
 "That are too high," interposed the Yeoman. 
 
 "That am exorbitant," protested the Bowman. 
 
 Which slips of speech were unnoticed by the 
 Prince, who, drawing his trusty sword, cried: 
 
 "I'll away at once, and before the year is spent 
 shall return to claim my bride."
 
 142 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Gallantly kissing the hand of the lovely Milli- 
 centine, and bowing low to the ugly old Witch, 
 with his Yeoman and his Bowman at his heels, 
 the Prince started in search of the required treas- 
 ure. 
 
 On they wandered, fighting their way through 
 hostile countries, suffering endless hardships, yet 
 ever hopeful. Ten months had already elapsed, 
 and at last they came to the royal city of the Tol- 
 tecs. The carnival was at its height, and knightly 
 jousts were held before the King and his Court. 
 
 Three rich prizes were offered as rewards to 
 the successful competitors: a bag of California 
 gold, to the best lancer ; a bag of Australian gold 
 to the best swordsman ; and the pigeon-blood ruby 
 worn by the Toltec Queen to the best horseman. 
 
 And Prince Braveheart was victor in all the 
 contests. 
 
 The Prince, with the ruby placed safely in a 
 locket next to his heart, the Yeoman with the bag 
 of California gold, and the Bowman with the bag 
 of Australian gold, retraced their steps joyously. 
 
 During all these months Millicentine was hav- 
 ing a very, very hard time of it. As the days 
 passed, and her suitor did not return, the alleged 
 grandmother grew apprehensive, and feared that
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 143 
 
 the Prince had failed to secure the gold and the 
 ruby, and would be so little of a gentleman as to 
 take Millicentine from her by force. 
 
 As these thoughts grew and grew within her 
 stony heart, all the mean traits in her character 
 became alive again, and she lapsed into her orig- 
 inal state as a full-blown, unblushing Witch, and 
 was really worse than before she reformed. 
 
 What does she do but rush down to the wicked 
 Hobgoblin, who lived in a cavern in the Glen of 
 the Four-Fanged Wolf, and confide to him all her 
 fears. 
 
 "Aha!" he exclaimed. This was one of his 
 customary expressions, and usually preceded an 
 equally customary remark, made sotto voce: "A 
 bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." 
 
 And forthwith, poor little Millicentine was 
 chained to a wall in the Hobgoblin's private 
 prison. 
 
 She did not know why she was treated thus, 
 though she suspected, but hope did not desert her, 
 even when she heard the Hobgoblin say to the 
 Witch, most mysteriously: 
 
 "Aha! She's better in fail than out on bail, and 
 dead men tell no tales." 
 
 At this point of our story, which was the last
 
 144 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 day for the Prince's return, the conditions were 
 as follows: 
 
 Millicentine was kept a prisoner by the Hob- 
 goblin. The old Witch did not believe the Prince 
 could secure the treasure she had demanded, and 
 therefore she would not listen to Millicentine's 
 pleadings to be released, for fear she might run 
 away with the Prince, even though he returned 
 empty-handed. 
 
 The Hobgoblin was lying in wait for the 
 Prince, the Yeoman and the Bowman, for he had 
 secret advices that they had secured the treasure 
 and were coming that very day. It was his pur- 
 pose to kill them, claim the treasure, marry the 
 girl, and snap his fingers at the overreaching old 
 Witch, and he went about, singing low in a minor 
 key: 
 
 "She's better in jail than out on bail, and dead 
 men tell no tales." 
 
 Millicentine got tired of hearing the miserable 
 creature croak the words all the time. They got 
 on her nerves, and she said : 
 
 "He will return sometime and will hear your 
 cackling, and then you'll sing lower still." 
 
 But the Hobgoblin's reply always was the very 
 same.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 145 
 
 "Aha! She's better in jail than out on bail, and 
 dead men tell no tales." 
 
 Hours wore on. Suddenly a solitary horse- 
 man was seen slowly proceeding in the direction 
 of the Glen of the Four-Fanged Wolf. 
 
 The Hobgoblin opened a peephole, and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Aha, it is the Yeoman of the Prince, and he 
 carries the bag of California gold !" 
 
 When the Yeoman reached the bridge of the 
 Ornithological Lake, which turned into a bird 
 any one falling into it, he was met by the Hob- 
 goblin with profoundest evidences of friendship. 
 
 "Has the Prince arrived yet?" inquired the 
 Yeoman, looking at his watch. "I note that he 
 has still twenty-five minutes before the time ex- 
 pires." 
 
 "Not yet," chuckled the Hobgoblin. 
 
 "We agreed to meet here by the side of the 
 lake, and titivate a bit before proceeding to the 
 abode of the fair Millicentine." 
 
 "And you have the gold?" queried the Hob- 
 goblin pointedly. 
 
 "We have," proudly replied the Yeoman, "and 
 also the pigeon-blood ruby that hung from the 
 neck of the Toltec Queen. Now, while waiting
 
 146 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 for the Prince and the Bowman, I believe I will 
 take a bath." 
 
 "You need it," said the Hobgoblin, making a 
 horrible attempt to be funny. 
 
 Walking to the center of the bridge, the Yeo- 
 man gazed into the clear water below, unsus- 
 picious of the treachery of the other, who, creep- 
 ing up from behind, suddenly gave him a shove, 
 and sent him several fathoms deep into the lake. 
 
 When the Yeoman arose to the surface he had 
 been changed into a Whippoorwill, and plaintively 
 calling "Whippoorwill! Whippoorwill!" he flew 
 into a tree, shaking his feathers dry and shivering 
 from fright. 
 
 As the transformed Yeoman saw the Hobgob- 
 lin seize the bag of California gold and enter the 
 house, he bemoaned his double misfortune. In a 
 moment all was still, then the clang of a horse's 
 hoofs was heard on the road, and the Bowman 
 hove in sight. He dismounted and led his horse 
 to the edge of the lake for a drink. The animal 
 seemed reluctant to approach. So, taking hold 
 of the reins with both hands, the Bowman be- 
 gan to pull, but the harder he strove the more 
 the horse resisted. 
 
 Most unexpectedly the Bowman felt a terrific
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 147 
 
 blow on his knuckles, and, releasing his hands 
 with a cry of pain, he tumbled backward into the 
 lake. When he came to the surface it was ob- 
 served that he was now a Bob- White, and he im- 
 mediately flew toward the forest. The Hobgob- 
 lin, laughing fiendishly, picked up the bag of Aus- 
 tralian gold, exclaiming: 
 
 "Nothing remains now but to gain possession 
 of the pigeon-blood ruby which hung from the 
 neck of the Toltec Queen, and which, I con- 
 jecture, must certainly be in the possession of 
 the Prince." 
 
 Even as the Hobgoblin spoke, the Prince ap- 
 peared at the cross-road near the Glen of the 
 Four-Fanged Wolf. The sad and depressing 
 notes of the Whippoorwill sounded again and 
 again in his ears, and were answered by the loud 
 clear tones of a Bob- White. 
 
 The beautiful black charger stopped, distended 
 his nostrils and whinnied. The Whippoorwill 
 flew about his head, calling incessantly. The 
 charger backed and turned into the right-hand 
 road, and, strive as he might, the Prince could 
 not swerve him in the direction of the Glen of the 
 Four-Fanged Wolf. 
 
 "Forward, Sparkles!" said the Prince, touch-
 
 148 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 ing the charger gently with his golden spurs, but 
 Sparkles backed in alarm. 
 
 Just then the Bob- White whistled on the right- 
 hand road, "Bob-white! Bob-white!" and it 
 seemed to say, "This way, this way." 
 
 The Hobgoblin, who was watching with great 
 interest and greater anxiety, when he saw the 
 charger take the right-hand road, hissed: 
 
 "Am I foiled ?" and then he exultingly added : 
 "Not if I know it." 
 
 And, bounding upon the back of the Yeoman's 
 horse, he rode as hard as he could to intercept the 
 Prince at the Span of the Black-Hued Demon. 
 The Hobgoblin hid back of a huge rock at the 
 entrance to the Span, and poised his lance, pre- 
 paring to kill the unsuspecting Prince when he ap- 
 proached. The Whippoorwill and the Bob- White 
 were keeping up a terrific clatter, but the Prince's 
 thoughts were of Millicentine, and of her alone. 
 Finally Sparkles refused to budge. 
 
 "What is the matter?" cried the Prince. 
 
 At which his beautiful charger pricked up his 
 ears and whinnied long and loud. Immediately 
 came an answering call, and the Yeoman's steed, 
 on which the Hobgoblin was perched, bounded 
 into the road.
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 149 
 
 And there, plainly in view of the Prince, sat 
 the Hobgoblin, with lance upraised. 
 
 "By my halidom !" cried the Prince, "this is a 
 rare adventure. Guard thyself, miscreant!" 
 holding his lance at the charge. 
 
 "Aha!" said the Hobgoblin. 
 
 And they went at it. 
 
 The Whippoorwill and the Bob- White perched 
 themselves on a high limb and watched the con- 
 test with great interest. 
 
 It was a beautiful fight, but when it ended the 
 Prince's lance was sticking right through the 
 Hobgoblin, who was unhorsed and faintly strug- 
 gling while breathing his last. 
 
 He raised himself on an elbow, and beckoned 
 the Prince to draw near. The Prince knelt by the 
 side of his vanquished opponent, who said: 
 
 "In my pocket there is a golden box it con- 
 tains two pellets give one to Bob " and be- 
 fore he could utter another word he dropped over 
 dead and was done for. 
 
 The Prince secured the box, while the Whip- 
 poorwill and Bob-White flew down and both 
 perched on his shoulders. 
 
 When he raised the lid of the golden-box each 
 of the birds quickly took one of the pellets, and
 
 150 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 lo and behold, they were turned back into the 
 Yeoman and the Bowman, much to their relief. 
 It took but a moment or two for them to tell the 
 Prince where Millicentine was, who the Witch 
 was, and, in fact, everything of interest. 
 
 Then, drawing their trusty swords, the Prince 
 and his servitors started for the private prison of 
 the Hobgoblin to release the maid. They were 
 met by a battalion of goblins and gnomes, and 
 what the Prince and his brave servitors didn't do 
 to them is not worth recording. When they had 
 finally put out of business the last goblin, they 
 had reached the door of the dungeon. There sat 
 the Witch. They demanded admission; she re- 
 fused. But the Yeoman and the Bowman, not 
 having the patience to bandy words, each grabbed 
 her by an arm, and saying : "Old lady, you'd bet- 
 ter cool off/' pitched her into the lake. 
 
 When the Witch came to the surface, she was 
 the most miserable looking catbird you ever saw, 
 and she never got over it. 
 
 The Prince rushed into the donjon keep, and 
 freed the captive maid. 
 
 And she, on a beautiful Kentucky-bred horse, 
 with the Prince on Sparkles, and the Yeoman and 
 the Bowman on their palfreys, bearing the bags
 
 THE SCHOOL EXERCISES 151 
 
 of gold, all proceeded to the Gipsy country where 
 Millicentine became the bride of the Prince, and, 
 eventually, Queen of the Romany Rye. 
 And they all lived happy ever after. 
 
 "That's an awful nice story," said Zorah. 
 
 "Yer don't spec' it's real true, Gil?" asked 
 Sandy. 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't vouch for it," replied the lit- 
 tle fellow. 
 
 Zorah came near to Gilbert, and, looking in- 
 tently at Sandy, whispered : 
 
 "Don't you think Prince Braveheart's hair was 
 a little too red?" 
 
 "It might have been had the Prince been a 
 common person, but he was brave and true, and 
 red hair is very becoming to people who are brave 
 and true," said Gilbert.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 DOING IT BROWN 
 
 Sandy was faithful to his promise, and thus one 
 source of annoyance was spared Mrs. Foley. The 
 rain-barrels were always full and the drudgery of 
 wash-day was thereby considerably lessened. 
 
 "I can't make it out," said the widow to Mr. 
 Jebb, "why that boy loves to carry water." 
 
 "The Jedge says Sandy is all wool and a yard 
 wide," replied Mr. Jebb, "and loaded to the gun- 
 wales with sympathy." 
 
 "Sympathy is all right, Mr. Jebb, but it don't 
 go with fillin' rain-barrels. There's a nigger in 
 the wood-pile somewhere." 
 
 "Not necessarily, Mrs. Foley." The grocer 
 motioned her to a chair. 
 
 "There's that Tom of mine," she continued, 
 "he wouldn't bring a drop to save my soul unless 
 I coaxed him with a cowhide; and Sandy, who 
 ain't no kith or kin of mine, rushes round afore 
 light and brings enough water to float the navy, 
 and then thanks me, if you please, for lettin' him 
 152
 
 DOING IT BROWN 153 
 
 do it. 'Tain't in a boy's nature to do it for 
 nothin'." 
 
 "Perhaps he feels you need his help," returned 
 the grocer. 
 
 "Don't yer believe that, Mr. Jebb. If that boy 
 ain't been put up to do it, then his mother ought 
 to send him to a doctor, for he's surely goin' into 
 a decline. Boys don't fill rain-barrels seven times 
 runnin' jest because they hanker after work. The 
 cat will come out of the bag sooner or later, and 
 I know it." Her arms akimbo, she looked at 
 him quizzically, when he discovered suddenly that 
 the counter needed dusting. 
 
 "Oh, shucks, it's nothing out of the ordinary," 
 and he smiled inanely. 
 
 "I'll find out; he'll blab it, see if he don't!" 
 this with mock severity. As she walked away 
 Titcomb watched her, his heart beating faster. 
 
 "She is a Juno and no mistake," he soliloquized. 
 "You wouldn't find one woman in a day's travel 
 with such a face and figure. Those blue eyes and 
 that black hair can't be beat in this world." He 
 followed her with his gaze until she disappeared. 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy," he shouted, as he saw the lad 
 emerging from the widow's home. 
 
 "Hello," responded Sandy, as he came over.
 
 154 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "My boy," said Titcomb, "let's go over your 
 account. I want to settle for the fish." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Jebb; I'm ready." Sandy took 
 a small note-book from his pocket, and called off 
 the items. 
 
 "Yer owes me fer seventeen catties, thirty-four 
 eels, hundred an' ten yaller perch, hundred an' 
 twenty-eight white perch, twenty-eight rock an' 
 sixteen suckers, which makes three hundred an' 
 thirty-three, or twenty-seven dozen an' nine. At 
 ten cents a dozen that would be two dollars an' 
 seventy-seven cents, which I believe yer'll find cor- 
 rect." He handed the book to Titcomb. 
 
 "That's right, and here's your money." The 
 grocer gave the amount to the boy. 
 
 "Gee, Mr. Jebb ! ain't I gittin' rich ? Only took 
 me a week an' two days to make it, an' I ketched 
 most all of 'em Saturday, which was all day." 
 
 "Keep right on, Sandy; fill the widow's rain- 
 barrels regularly, and I'll buy all the fish you can 
 catch." The grocer slapped the boy's shoulder ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 "That's all right 'bout the fish, Mr. Jebb, but 
 this lyin' to the widder is orful." 
 
 "She doesn't suspect anything, does she, 
 Sandy?"
 
 DOING IT BROWN 155 
 
 "She axed me to-day if I wuz so powerful 
 fond of carryin' water as I pertended, an' I sez of 
 course I wuz ; then she sez, 'Cross yer heart, if ye 
 are.' I sez I can't do that, an' she sez she knew 
 I couldn't. Then she 'lowed that yer wuz payin' 
 me to do it, an' I didn't say nuthin'. She ups an' 
 sez, 'If Mr. Jebb ain't payin' yer to tote water 
 fer me, cross yer heart,' an' then I was done up. 
 I would ax yer as a favor, Mr. Jebb, to do yer 
 own lyin' hereafter. I ain't no good at it !" 
 
 "Was she very mad, Sandy?" earnestly in- 
 quired the grocer. 
 
 "Not muchee, Mr. Jebb; she wuz most tickled 
 to death an' give me a big lump of bread with 
 butter an' lots o' molasses. She puts her hand 
 on my cocoanut an' sez, soft-like : 'I hope, Sandy, 
 yer will make as fine a man as somebody I 
 could name.' I looked into her pretty face an' 
 squawked: 'Mrs. Foley, 'tain't many that can 
 hope to ekal Mr. Jebb.' 'Go 'long,' she sez, 'I 
 didn't mention Mr. Jebb,' an' she laughed jest like 
 she wuz glad I sed it." 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy, you're a great boy, and I think 
 twenty cents a dozen wouldn't be too much for 
 your fish." 
 
 "Bully fer you, Mr. Jebb! I likes to say jest
 
 156 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 here, if enny fish are left on yer hands, why, yer 
 needn't to pay me fer 'em if yer don't wanter." 
 
 "The Lord bless your honest heart, Sandy, I 
 could sell twice as many if I had 'em." 
 
 "That's most satisfyin', Mr. Jebb." 
 
 "I've never seen such a run on fish before. The 
 day after I agreed to take all you caught, a letter 
 signed 'Treblig,' evidently some great foreign au- 
 thority, appeared in the Evening Star, in which 
 it was stated that, owing to the great amount of 
 phosphorus in fish, it is the most beneficial of all 
 foods for the brain, and ever since everybody's 
 rushing up for fish. Gilbert Franklin came imme- 
 diately with their cook and spoke for all you 
 caught. On Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, 
 Friday, and twice on Saturday, Delia was here to 
 get them." 
 
 "I wonder ef the little codger wrote that letter. 
 I know he bought a lot o' Stars one day last week. 
 It's jest like him. What did yer say the man's 
 name wuz what wrote it, Mr. Jebb ?" 
 
 "Treblig," answered the grocer, taking the pa- 
 per from his desk and handing it to Sandy. 
 
 "I never heerd of no man with that 'ere name 
 in the fish bizness, but I'll ask the little codger if 
 he knows him, an' I'm bettin' he does," scan-
 
 DOING IT BROWN 157 
 
 ning the name and spelling it over very care- 
 fully. 
 
 Sandy wrote out the name in large letters on 
 a piece of wrapping-paper, and scrutinized it with 
 great interest. Finally, folding the paper, and 
 putting it into his pocket, he said : "Mr. Jebb, t-a-t 
 spells tat anyway yer spells it, but T-r-e-b-1-i-g 
 don't spell Treblig anyway yer spells it, an' I'm 
 a-bettin' the little codger knows why." 
 
 "Here comes Mrs. Franklin's cook now," called 
 the grocer, "and I'll bet she'll ask for fish." 
 
 In walked Delia. 
 
 "Good mawnin', Muster Jebb, has yer got enny 
 fresh fish?" this wearily. 
 
 "No, Delia, not this morning; yesterday was 
 Sunday ; of course Sandy wouldn't fish then." 
 
 "Bress de Lawd fer dat, Muster Jebbl I wah 
 a-prayin' an' a-hopin' an' a-wishin' dat de supply 
 o' fresh fish wah used up. I/awd A'mighty, Mus- 
 ter Jebb, dere's done bin terrible doin's in our 
 house in de fish line all de week. Sence las' 
 Chuseday, it's fish fish fish ; fish fo' breakfast ; 
 fish fo' dinner, fish fo' supper; fish all day long, 
 till yer can't rest fo' fish. Muster Franklin an' 
 littl' Gil 'scusses fish, an' sez dey gives pussons 
 brains. I don't 'spute what dey sez, but, laws-
 
 158 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 sakes, Muster Jebb, I goes roun' feelin' like I 
 wah a rain-bar'l ; f o' dey sez fish'll swim, dead or 
 alive, an' I done drunk de pump dry all de week 
 an' dey are still cryin' fo' mo' watah. I hopes to 
 de Lawd dat de ribber'll run out o' fish, brain or 
 no brain, or dis cullud pusson'll get dropsy sho'." 
 
 Sandy hurried to the Jedge to report progress 
 in the financial department. 
 
 "Jedge, I've got three dollars an' seven cents, 
 an' I made all of it, 'cept twenty-eight cents, in a 
 week an' two days." 
 
 "Perseverentia omnia vincet, as scientific men 
 would say," replied the Jedge, "which, to the 
 lower millyun, like me an' you, Sandy, would 
 sound plainer if we jest sez, 'If yer want ter git 
 there, keep a-inchin' along'." 
 
 "Jedge, don't yer think we better start buy in' 
 our material an' kind er git ready?" 
 
 "That's the talk, my boy, an' if yer'll wait till I 
 put on my alapaky coat, I'll go down to Tom 
 Clark's with yer to select the lumber." 
 
 After they had picked the necessary timber for 
 the boat, Sandy proudly took the bill and paid it. 
 He and the Jedge shouldered the planks, and they 
 started away. They met Gilbert and Dink, who 
 lightened their burden, and soon the load was de-
 
 DOING IT BROWN 159 
 
 posited in the Jedge's woodshed. Then a visit 
 was made to a hardware store, where bolts, 
 screws, nails, and so forth, were put aside to be 
 called for, as soon as Sandy had sufficient capital. 
 
 "It looks to me," said the Jedge, as they sat on 
 the porch, "that work ought to commence t'mor- 
 rer. While ye're out on the river fishin', Dink 
 an' me will git the trestles ready, an' spruce up 
 gin'rally fer a starter. Gil kin measure the 
 boards an' see if they're all right, an' everybody 
 kin make themselves useful gin'rally." 
 
 "Sandy," said Gilbert, as they left the Jedge's, 
 "my father has given me a set of boxing-gloves ; 
 would you mind coming to the house and show- 
 ing me a point or two ?" 
 
 "In course I will. I stands ready to show yer 
 all I knows 'bout how to use 'em," spoke the elder. 
 
 "The doctor says boxing is a very healthy ex- 
 ercise, and father is anxious I should learn." 
 
 "Jest tell yer father to leave it to me; 'tain't 
 goin' to be hard fer yer to learn. Ye're as quick 
 as greased lightnin' with yer noddle, an' ye've 
 got lots of sand, an' them two things is powerful 
 helps in boxin'." 
 
 The boys went to Gilbert's play-room and put 
 on the gloves. Sandy first showed the little fel-
 
 160 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 low the simpler movements, and then the finer 
 ones of side-stepping, countering and dodging, all 
 of which he picked up with surprising quickness. 
 They had boxed intermittently for an hour, and 
 were resting. 
 
 "I wants ter caution yer, little feller, 'bout a 
 weakness I've been noticin'." Sandy stood up, 
 and beckoned Gilbert to face him. "Don't wear 
 yerself out tryin' to reach a big feller's mug, 
 when it's beyond yer. Yer'll peter out, an' he'll 
 punch yer sure. There's lots o' fellers what 
 thinks they've got the Vantage 'cause they're big- 
 ger, but every feller is sometimes the littlest in a 
 fight. Now, what yer wants to do, is ter git yer 
 man down to yer size, afore yer think of anythin' 
 else. Jest connive a little, an' the fust chance yer 
 git, whack him in the bread-basket, an' when he 
 doubles up yer'll be pluggin' him in the jaw. It's 
 jest this 'ere way : 
 
 "I'm a-recollectin' one Sunday afternoon, I wuz 
 a-walkin' out to Cool Run, jest fer to stretch my 
 pins an' to get a drap of fresh air, an' when I gets 
 round by Swamppoodle, up comes Shanks Robey. 
 It's 'lowed he's a holy terror when he gits started. 
 His Giblets is as tall as a bean-pole, an' a tough 
 customer. He hollered over the street to me: 'I
 
 DOING IT BROWN l6l 
 
 jest heerd ye're the party they call Pipetown 
 Sandy down yer way.' 
 
 "I 'lowed that was so an' walked on, not offerin' 
 to argyf y the matter. 
 
 "He 'mediately calls out after me : 'I'm a-bettin' 
 anythin' yer wants, I kin chaw yer up in three 
 minits.' I 'peared as if I didn't take no notice 
 of his insultin' bragadocy an' jest walked on, not 
 hurryin', jest walkin'. He came on, follerin' 
 'bout ten feet erside o' me. I was thinkin' 'bout 
 the song we had in Sunday-school, Xet dogs de- 
 light to bark and bite' an' stopped an' said: 
 'Shanks, 'tain't no use follerin' me ; takes two fer 
 to spat, an' I ain't goin' to spat, leastwise not to- 
 day,' an' I walked on, not hurryin', understand, 
 jest walkin'. He comes a little closer and yells, 
 'Fraid-Cat !' I looked at him, sayin', 'Lemme go, 
 Shanks ; don't stop me. Don't yer see I'm havin' 
 trouble holdin' myself ?' 
 
 "He never paid no 'tention to my re-quest, an'- 
 I-hope-I-may-die, if he didn't call me out er my 
 name. I stopped as if I wuz rooted to the spot an' 
 looked at him, not believin' my ears. I turned 
 ag'in an' said slow an' sorrowful like, 'Shanks, 
 did you speak ?' He laughed one of them laughs 
 that makes yer so mad yer could bite yer own
 
 1 62 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 mother, an' sassed out, 'Did I speak?' an' called 
 me out er my name ag'in. 
 
 "I faced right in front er him, an' I-hope-I- 
 may-never-see-the-back-of-my-neck, but he was 
 that tall he could 'a' laid his two fists on my head 
 by jest puttin' his arms put straight. I sez, 'You 
 said yer'd chaw me up in three minits; I'm yer 
 huckleberry;' an' I begins to dance round him. 
 He raised his fists to chop me on the smeller, but 
 I got under, and BIFF ! I soaked him one plum' 
 in his bread-basket, an' he come down where I 
 was livin'. Afore he know'd it, I wuz a-playin' a 
 jig on his cocoanut, an' he hollered 'Nuff !' three 
 times afore I heerd him. Well, I ain't sayin' 
 nuthin' 'gainst no feller as can fight like Shanks 
 Robey, but I wuz told he had to take er letter 
 home to his folks afore they agreed 'twuz 
 Shanks." 
 
 The next day, work began in earnest on the 
 boat, and there was bustle and activity in the 
 Jedge's back yard. 
 
 Between getting up before day to go to the 
 river to fish, filling Mrs. Foley's rain-barrels, and 
 working on his boat, Sandy was beyond question 
 the busiest mortal in Pipetown. The other work- 
 ers, the Jedge, Gilbert and Dink Dabney, were not
 
 DOING IT BROWN 163 
 
 idle, either. Gilbert reported faithfully every 
 morning, dinner-pail on his arm, and when the 
 noon hour came he sat as a laboring man in the 
 shade eating his meal. 
 
 "An' he does it," said Dink to his folks, "jest 
 as if he wuz a poor boy as had to do it fer his 
 keep." 
 
 Gilbert brought the boxing-gloves down to the 
 workshop, and every day after the midday meal 
 he and Sandy would devote ten or fifteen minutes 
 to light sparring. 
 
 The days passed and the boat was nearly com- 
 pleted. It had been built and caulked, and one 
 afternoon Gilbert was putting the last coat of 
 white lead on it, while Sandy and Dink were at 
 the carpenter's bench in the shed, shaping the 
 rudder. 
 
 The Jedge, seated in a wicker rocker, his eyes 
 gradually closing into sleep, was wholly oblivious 
 of earthly things except when he would brush 
 some persistent fly from his nose. From a soft 
 snore, he changed slowly to a sharp rhythmic 
 grunt. 
 
 Snarley Foley came into the yard and noticed 
 Gilbert at work. 
 
 "Hello," he called. "Say, lemme paint some?"
 
 1 64 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Much obliged, but I guess I can do it without 
 any help," said Gilbert, scarcely looking up from 
 his work. 
 
 "Oh, don't be so selfish," continued Snarley, 
 coming over and reaching out for the paint-brush. 
 
 "I'm not selfish," replied the little fellow, "but 
 Sandy gave it to me to do." 
 
 "Yes, I guess so; yer hang round him so yer 
 don't give him no chance to think fer hisself." 
 
 "Well, what of it?" still painting, and paying 
 no attention to the other boy. 
 
 "There's a great deal of it, an' I can't under- 
 stan' how Sandy puts up with it." 
 
 "You had better ask him and find out, if you 
 are so anxious to know," retorted Gilbert, with 
 an angry gleam in his eyes. 
 
 "Yer think ye're some pun'kins, don't yer," 
 sneered Snarley, " 'cause yer kin saw catgut, an' 
 wear Sunday clothes? Yer'd better keep a civil 
 tongue in yer head. Fer two shakes of er cow's- 
 tail, I'd punch yer, yer mama's-boy!" snapped 
 Snarley contemptuously. 
 
 The boxing-gloves were lying on the floor of 
 the porch where the boys had left them but half 
 an hour before. Gilbert put aside the paint-brush, 
 slowly walked over, picked up the four gloves,
 
 DOING IT BROWN 165 
 
 went to where Snarley was standing, and threw 
 two of them at his feet. 
 
 "Don't yer try to hit me, a-throwin' them 
 gloves at my feet. If yer do I'll give yer a belt in 
 the snoot, yer mama's-boy." 
 
 "I'm going to give you a chance to take two of 
 them and belt me, as you say, in the snoot ! There 
 are the gloves, put them on." 
 
 "I don't fight with no gloves." 
 
 "Well, you'll fight with gloves or without 
 gloves, or you'll apologize for calling me a 
 mama's-boy." 
 
 "That ain't callin' yer put er yer name," snarled 
 the bully. 
 
 "I think it is ; put on the gloves," almost as a 
 command, and so loudly that Sandy and Dink 
 came from the shed, and the Jedge woke up. 
 
 "What's up?" said Sandy. 
 
 "This white-livered cur called me out of my 
 name, and I want him to put on the mitts and 
 settle it," said Gilbert, while Dink helped him on 
 with the gloves. 
 
 "Why, Gil, 'tain't fair to let yer fight Snar- 
 ley; he's 'most twice as big as you are. Let me 
 polish him off," Dink volunteered. 
 
 "I don't care if he is four times as big as I
 
 1 66 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 am, he's got to fight or take water," said Gilbert 
 warmly. 
 
 "Yes, I'm twice as big as he is an' I shouldn't 
 fight him," shouted Snarley, drawing himself up 
 and trying to appear taller than he really was. 
 
 "You can't run around Robin Hood's barn with 
 me. I don't care if you are as big as a house. If 
 you don't put those gloves on, I'll pull your nose, 
 and boot you all pver town besides," cried Gil- 
 bert, his eyes flashing fire and his face expressing 
 contempt. 
 
 " 'Tain't no use, Snarley ; ye've riled the little 
 feller an' ye've got to fight him, square up an' 
 down, three rounds. Here's the gloves," and 
 Sandy forced them on Foley's hands, and laced 
 them carefully. "Yer called the little codger out 
 er his name, an' it would spile his temper if he 
 didn't try to lick yer fer it." 
 
 "Sandy," said the Jedge, "I don't think it's 
 right to let the little feller fight that big lummux." 
 
 "Jedge, it's all right," said Sandy decisively, 
 "ef yer got any sympathy lyin' round loose, jest 
 give it to Snarley Foley, fer the little feller'll 
 knock him galley-west jest as sure as cats is cats." 
 
 "Understan' now, boys, I excuses yer fer 
 a-fightin' in my back yard, 'cause one of yer called
 
 MRS. FOI.EY STOOD MOTIONLESS IN A STARE AS TOM 
 
 SCAMPERED AWAY Page 112
 
 DOING IT BROWN 167 
 
 the other out er his name, an' wouldn't take it 
 back." 
 
 Sandy went over to Gilbert and whispered, 
 "Remember Shanks Robey !" 
 
 If the lad was excited, he showed no signs of it, 
 and came up facing his taller and stronger oppo- 
 nent, cool and absolutely fearless. He ran around 
 the bigger boy, cat-like. 
 
 His movements evidently worried and rattled 
 Snarley. Gilbert made a feint, as if to strike with 
 his left hand, then he side-stepped. The big boy, 
 lumbering and awkward, threw out his elbow 
 wildly, and unexpectedly gave Gilbert a terrific 
 jab on the nose. The blood spurted in streams, 
 and the little fellow's anger was fully aroused. 
 
 Taking advantage of the opening his antago- 
 nist had left, he planted, with lightning speed, 
 blow after blow. Suddenly he landed with both 
 fists, and doubled Foley up. The bully was too 
 badly scared and whipped to call "Enough," and 
 screaming, "Murder ! Help ! Don't let him kill 
 me!" he rushed from the yard, waving his arms 
 like windmills. 
 
 Gilbert took off his gloves, went into the 
 kitchen, washed the blood from his face, returned 
 to the yard, and resumed his work on the boat.
 
 1 68 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Words just then were not adequate, so all were 
 silent. The Jedge, Sandy and Dink were thor- 
 oughly satisfied, and looked at the little fellow 
 with intense admiration. 
 
 Sandy sent Dink for the boxing-gloves that 
 Snarley in his hurry had forgotten to leave. Dink 
 returned shortly with them, and reported : 
 
 "Snarley looks like he had been used f er a chop- 
 pin' block, an' he hops along kind er lopsided, 
 'cause one eye's in mournin', an' when I holler'd 
 'Giddy giddy gout,' he jest beller'd, an' didn't 
 say nuthin'." 
 
 "I guess he's found out he got the wrong pig 
 by the ear," observed the Jedge, chuckling as he 
 resumed work on a hickory rod. 
 
 As Sandy and Gilbert separated at the Corner 
 that evening, the older boy put his hand on the 
 little fellow's shoulder, and said: 
 
 "I know'd you'd 'a' done it an' done it brown, 
 but yer done it browner than that."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 * 
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 
 
 The Lillian was finished at last. Painted a 
 beautiful ultramarine, a broad stripe of white 
 edging her gunwales, her rudder and oar-blades 
 a brilliant red, she rested on the trestles ready for 
 shipment to the river, an object of admiration to 
 every boy in Pipetown. 
 
 Her name, in letters of gold, was stretched 
 across the stern, the handiwork of Gilbert. 
 
 "Gil," said Sandy, as the former stood off view- 
 ing the boat critically, "I wants ter ax yer a 
 favor." 
 
 "All right, Sandy!" The little fellow turned 
 to the older boy, waiting for him to speak. 
 
 "Yer knows Jim Cook, my second cousin?" 
 
 "He's a sailor, isn't he?" asked Gilbert. 
 
 "Yes, that's him." 
 
 "Of course I know him." 
 
 "I seen him this mornin', an' he tol' me that in 
 the navy, when they launches a new boat, Uncle 
 
 Sam invites er lot o' people an' a purty young lady 
 169
 
 1 70 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 to come an' help christen it, an' Jim sez, when the 
 boat slides inter the water the lady takes er bottle 
 o' champagne an' cracks it on the bow, sayin' at 
 the same time the name the boat is goin' by. An' 
 Jim sez the win' jammers strike up The Star 
 Spangled Banner, an' the people hurrah." 
 
 "I think I know what you're driving at," said 
 Gilbert, "and we ought to christen the Lillian 
 that way." 
 
 "That's jest what I wuz a-comin' to, little 
 codger. D'yer think yer can git yer little sister 
 to come an' do it?" 
 
 "Of course; she will be delighted." 
 
 "In course, we can't 'ford no champagne, but 
 my mother has some home-made blackberry wine, 
 an' mebbe that'll do." 
 
 "I think soda pop is better, Sandy. My father 
 says the only difference is, that champagne has 
 more 'fizz' and costs five dollars a bottle." 
 
 "That settles it; soda pop's the baptizin' fluid. 
 I'll git a bottle at Jebb's." 
 
 "Instead of a band, I'll bring my fiddle and 
 play the tunes," said the younger. 
 
 "Bully fer you, little codger ! Now it's all set- 
 tled, an' we'll have it Saturday afternoon. We'll 
 give her a great send-off an' no mistake."
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 171 
 
 Saturday morning the boat was hauled to the 
 river, and after the midday meal, Lillian, dressed 
 as the Goddess of Liberty, went with her brother 
 to take part in the proposed function. 
 
 Sandy, Dink and Gilbert shoved the jumper 
 down the whitened beach and into the clear water. 
 The Jedge escorted Lillian to the bow of the boat, 
 and the child, holding the bottle of soda pop in her 
 hand, began the ceremony : 
 
 "I christen you Lillian/' and pop! went the 
 soda. 
 
 Gilbert struck up The Star Spangled Banner, 
 Lillian waved a tiny flag, and the rest of the com- 
 pany joined in the song. 
 
 "She sets as quiet-like as possible; she's cert'nly 
 stanch, Sandy. Take the oars, boys, an' see if 
 she's got any speed," and the Jedge and Lillian 
 sat in the stern, Sandy took the stroke and Dink 
 the bow oar, while Gilbert sat forward, playing. 
 
 They turned upstream, and with measured 
 stroke and feathered oars, they sent her through 
 the water like a veritable racer. After speeding 
 for about two miles they ran ashore, stepped the 
 mast and raised the sail, with Sandy as skipper. 
 
 She soon caught the wind, keeling beautifully, 
 while the spray dashed over her bow.
 
 1 72 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "She's a daisy an' no mistake," enthusiastically 
 exclaimed the Jedge, "an' I'll bet there ain't a 
 jumper this side of Jericho kin tech her." The 
 Jedge bounded everything by Jericho, north, 
 east, south or west, and therefore the Lillian, 
 in his opinion, was without a peer. 
 
 The wind gradually died away and the boat 
 drifted slowly down the river toward her moor- 
 ings. To those on shore, there came, wafted over 
 the summer waves, the sweet voice of Gilbert's 
 violin. Home Sweet Home and The Old Folks, 
 Annie Lisle and The Mocking-bird palpitated 
 upon the quiet air, melodies that have been heard 
 on a thousand similar occasions, and will be heard 
 as long as the American heart is attuned to 
 thoughts of home or to thoughts of love. 
 
 The youthful voices joined in with the violin, 
 and even the Jedge put in an occasional note that 
 he called "the second." 
 
 Before the sun was hidden behind the western 
 hills the Lillian was at anchor, her sail furled, 
 oars and oar-locks safely stored, and the party 
 was homeward bound, happy in the memory of a 
 perfect day. 
 
 "Sandy, the boat's a great success," said the 
 Jedge. "Boats sometimes, under the most care-
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 1 73 
 
 fullest buildin', turn out bad, in which particular 
 they are like boys. I've seen boys whose folks 
 could trace their pedigree 'way back to prehistoric 
 times, as scientific men would say, an' afore you'd 
 know anythin' they'd butt their nozzle ag'in a 
 rock, an' down they'd go, rumsoaked an' busted. 
 But the Lillian is O K, copper-bottomed, an' we 
 are all proud of her." 
 
 When Gilbert and Lillian reached home, they 
 recited with glowing enthusiasm every detail of 
 the launching, rowing and sailing, and were loud 
 in their praise of Sandy's skill. 
 
 The Jedge went to Jebb's store that night and 
 informed the "faithfuls" that "Sandy reminded 
 him more of hisself when he wuz Sandy's age, 
 than anybody he had ever seen." 
 
 "Of course, in them days I had also the men- 
 tality, as scientific men would say, which is pecul- 
 iar to Gil Franklin," he continued, "but take me 
 by an' large, as I wuz when I wuz a boy, in 
 1'arnin', eddication, help yerself an' git there, I 
 wuz a twin brother to them two boys." 
 
 After supper Sandy sauntered into the grocer's 
 and received the congratulations of all hands on 
 his success in building the boat. Calling Jebb 
 aside, he said :
 
 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I'm very much 'bliged to yer fer buyin' my 
 fish, Mr. Jebb, an' I wants ter ax yer somethin'." 
 
 "Go ahead, Sandy; I'm all attention," said the 
 grocer good-naturedly. 
 
 "Wouldn't yer like to go out sailin' in the Lil- 
 lian, say next Tuesday afternoon? The Jedge'll 
 tend store for yer, an' I'd be mighty pleased if 
 you'd let me take yer up as far as the Sycamores, 
 an' then when the sun's goin' down, jest come 
 back." 
 
 "It will be a great pleasure, Sandy," re- 
 plied Mr. Jebb politely, "if I can arrange my 
 business affairs." 
 
 "But, Mr. Jebb, yer store won't run 'way while 
 the Jedge is watchin'," said the boy earnestly. 
 
 "Yes, I understand that, Sandy, but I have 
 some very, very important matters to attend to on 
 Tuesday, but I'll let you know whether I can go, 
 if you'll come around later." 
 
 "All right, Mr. Jebb, I'll come, but I'm afeerd 
 I can't count on yer." Sandy walked to the front 
 pf the store, picked up a few raisins out of a box, 
 and then very carelessly said : 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Jebb, I f ergot. If yer conclude that 
 yer could go, would yer mind if somebody else 
 went along?"
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAIUNG 175 
 
 "Certainly not, Sandy, but do not count on me, 
 as I'm likely to be very busy next week." 
 
 "Well, I wuz jest 'bout to say that on my way 
 here I stopped at the widder's an' invited her to 
 go sailin' with me on Tuesday, an' she said she'd 
 positive go, rain or shine, but if ye're too busy, 
 don't say nuthin' more 'bout it, an' I'll take her 
 all by myself." Sandy was half-way out of the 
 door. 
 
 "Wait a minute, boy, don't hurry so. Did you 
 say the widow was going?" Titcomb spoke ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 "That wuz my remark." Sandy continued to 
 move away slowly. 
 
 "Come back here a minute ; don't hurry off be- 
 fore I have a chance to talk to you. My! you 
 hop about just like the Irishman's flea. On sec- 
 ond thought, I'm sure I can arrange my business 
 affairs to go with you." 
 
 "Oh, don't put yerself out, Mr. Jebb; if yer 
 can't go, don't hesitate to say so. I kin take yer 
 any other day." 
 
 "You said Tuesday, didn't you, Sandy ?" ques- 
 tioned the grocer eagerly. 
 
 "Tuesday was what I sed." 
 
 "I'm afraid I didn't quite catch the day, when
 
 1 76 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 you first spoke. I am so absent-minded some- 
 times, but I remember now, Tuesday is my easiest 
 day off. I've nothing to do on Tuesday, and I'll 
 go; you can count on me." 
 
 "I'm glad you've arranged yer business affairs, 
 Mr. Jebb. I'll stop an' tell the widder I've in- 
 vited you. I don't know whether she'll like it or 
 not, but I'll chance it. Now be sure an' don't 
 fool me," and Sandy, laughing roguishly, left 
 the store. 
 
 The grocer immediately went to his desk, and 
 hours after the store was closed he was still writ- 
 ing. His task was finished, and he had added 
 a new poem to his collection. That night he 
 dreamed of an aquatic Juno. 
 
 On Tuesday Sandy came punctually. Titcomb 
 was waiting for him, and together they went to 
 the widow's house. She was in the little parlor 
 ready for them. Dressed in her best gray delaine, 
 with white collar and mitts, a black silk shawl and 
 a "kiss-me-quick" bonnet, she looked most be- 
 witching. The trio left the house and started 
 toward the river. 
 
 "I've asked Gil to go 'long to help sail the 
 boat," spoke Sandy, "an' he'll meet us at the 
 landin'. He's went ahead some time ago."
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAIUNG 177 
 
 After they had gone a block or so, Sandy whis- 
 pered slyly: 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, if yer don't mind, I'd like to run on 
 an' git things ready by the time yer git there," 
 and away he went, before the grocer could reply. 
 
 Jebb walked proudly by the side of Mrs. Foley, 
 and the knowledge that the woman he loved was 
 near him filled his soul with a wild exultation. 
 He was almost afraid to speak lest it might be 
 only a dream, and the sound of his voice dispel 
 the illusion. The widow had her thoughts, too. 
 When they reached the river, Sandy and Gilbert 
 had everything in readiness. 
 
 "We'll sail up as far as the Sycamores, Mr. 
 Jebb, if you an 5 Mrs. Foley's willin', an' then stay 
 there an' watch the sun go down." 
 
 "I've been told," said Titcomb, "that the sun- 
 set viewed from the Sycamores is very beautiful, 
 and that in imagination you could picture Para- 
 dise itself in the many hues of the dying day." 
 
 "I've watched it go down lots o' times when 
 I've been yankin' fish in the cove, an' I tell yer it's 
 no slouch of a sun, anyway," added Sandy, with 
 just a suggestion of the melodramatic. 
 
 "The river is delightful up there," added Gil- 
 bert with animation.
 
 178 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "The river is delightful anywhere, Gilbert, and 
 I know the Sycamores are fine, if you say so," 
 remarked the widow. 
 
 The Lillian glided into the stream; Gilbert sat 
 in front of the mast, his feet hanging over the 
 bow ; the widow and Titcomb occupied the middle 
 seat, and Sandy was at the helm. Up by the 
 Magazine they sailed. Rounding into the Devil's 
 Elbow, they passed beyond the big marsh under 
 the shadow of the Banks, and soon reached the 
 Sycamores. 
 
 As the boat grated against the pebbly beach, 
 Gilbert stood ready to jump ashore and pull her 
 up. After all were out, Sandy took a hatchet, and 
 giving one to Gilbert, said : 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, the Jedge axed me to cut him some 
 hick'ry poles fer fishin'-rods. There's some bully 
 good uns up on the shore, t'other side of Turtle 
 Creek, an* if you an' Mrs. Foley don't mind, me 
 an' Gil '11 go up to the head of the creek an' cross 
 over. That'll take us 'bout an hour an' a half, an' 
 if yer'll jest row the boat up to the mouth of the 
 creek, me an' Gil '11 be there waitin' fer yer. Don't 
 hurry, 'cause it'll take at least that long afore we 
 kin cut 'em an' fetch 'em down. Yer kin sail up 
 if yer wants to, but I don't advise yer to, unless
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 179 
 
 yer know all 'bout the river, specially if it should 
 blow. On second thought, I guess you'd better 
 row ; it's safer." 
 
 The boys disappeared up a path leading to the 
 creek, leaving Titcomb and Mrs. Foley alone with 
 the birds and flowers. 
 
 The grocer carefully brushed the sand from a 
 board that had been washed ashore, and impro- 
 vised a seat for the widow. He threw himself, 
 with an air of abandon, on a green mound 
 near-by. 
 
 "I presumed on your good nature," he began. 
 "I have brought some of my verses and will read 
 them, if it pleases you." 
 
 "I'm jest dyin' to hear some more of your 
 po'try pieces, Mr. Jebb ; specially 'bout Juno, who- 
 ever she may be." The widow leaned forward, 
 looking inquiringly into his face, and the poor 
 lovelorn grocer could scarcely refrain from de- 
 claring his passion then and there without more 
 delay. 
 
 "This wayward thought," his voice trembled 
 with suppressed emotion, "was written last Sat- 
 urday night just after Sandy told me that you 
 had accepted his invitation for to-day. I have 
 named it Juno Went A-sailing."
 
 l8o PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Juno went a-sailing where the rippling waters flow, 
 Up the stream and down the stream, a-gliding she did go. 
 The summer day was mild and sweet, the sun was in a 
 
 glow, 
 When Juno sailed upon the river. 
 
 My love, my love, my love, I love you so; 
 
 My love, my love, oh, listen ere you go ; 
 
 Juno went a-sailing where the rippling waters flow, 
 
 And I am dreaming on the river. 
 
 Juno, proud and lofty, oh, I feel you do not know 
 My heart is longing for you as I wander to and fro ; 
 Tho' I scorch in Africa or freeze in Arctic snow, 
 I love you, sailing on the river. 
 
 My love, my love, my love, I love you so, 
 
 My love, my love, oh, listen ere you go ; 
 
 Juno went a-sailing where the rippling waters flow, 
 
 And I am dreaming on the river." 
 
 "Law sakes, Mr. Jebb, that is too pretty for 
 words. It ought to be sung to." 
 
 "It can be sung to, Mrs. Foley. It adapts it- 
 self to the tune of Marching Through Georgia." 
 
 "I wish you would teach it to me, and I kind er 
 think it would be awful nice to sing when you're 
 alone, an' all worn down to a frazzle." 
 
 "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," he 
 replied proudly. 
 
 The widow beckoned Titcomb : "If you don't 
 mind, come set down here by mCj and let me sing 
 off the words with you."
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING l8l 
 
 They began softly and with a decided tremor 
 in their voices, but gradually growing more con- 
 fident, they sang louder and louder, and the hills 
 sent back the echo. 
 
 :fc 
 
 "My love, my love, my love, I love you so." 
 
 When they had finished, the widow turned and 
 looked wistfully at the silently-flowing water, then 
 sighed. 
 
 "I hope the song has not made you unhappy," 
 almost whispered Titcomb. 
 
 "Unhappy, Mr. Jebb? This is the first happy 
 day I've known these many years." 
 
 "Let us hope this is but the beginning of many 
 happy days," he spoke with insinuating sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "How is it?" she interrupted, "that all them 
 pieces of po'try you write are about a lady named 
 Juno; who is she that you are so powerful fond 
 of her?" 
 
 "Can't you guess?" his eyes trying to convey 
 the thought rampant in his brain. 
 
 "I can't guess, 'cept that her name is Juno," 
 said the widow dubiously.
 
 1 82 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 He turned, and grasping both her hands, cried 
 passionately : 
 
 "You are Juno ! Who but you could be Juno ? 
 You are the one woman in all the world I love, I 
 idolize, I would die for." 
 
 She withdrew her hands quickly, and covered 
 her face. 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Jebb, you mustn't, you mustn't. 
 I'm a respectable woman." 
 
 "Of course you are; do you think I believe you 
 otherwise?" He kneeled before her, and tried to 
 grasp her hands. 
 
 Holding him aloof, she cried : 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Jebb, I can't, I can't. God knows 
 I can't." 
 
 Faintly over the water came the clear voice of 
 Gilbert : 
 
 " Maxwelton's braes are bonny, 
 Where early falls the dew, 
 And 'twas there that Annie I/aurie 
 Gave me her promise true. 
 Gave me her promise true, 
 Which ne'er forgot will be, 
 And for bonnie Annie Laurie, 
 I'd lay me down and die." 
 
 Looking into her face, he exclaimed in love- 
 laden accents: "You hear that song 'And for 
 bonnie Annie Laurie I'd lay me down and die.'
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAIUNG 183 
 
 That's what my heart says to you. You are my 
 Annie Laurie, you are my Juno, you are my 
 everything on earth." 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, Mr. Jebb, you don't understand me. 
 Heaven knows I believe you, but I can't, can't 
 listen to you, as I am an honest woman." 
 
 "What do you mean?" he implored. 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, I don't know whether I am married 
 or single." 
 
 "Married or single? I do not understand!" he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Neither do I, and I have never met any one 
 who does. Listen !" 
 
 He came back to his seat by her. 
 
 "Just after the war broke out my husband went 
 off, not because he wanted to, but because some 
 one gave him money to shoulder a musket. He 
 was a worthless drunkard, if there ever lived one. 
 He was first on the Confederate side, then de- 
 serted his people and went North. I tracked him 
 out for a while, but I haven't seen him for nearly 
 five years, and I don't know whether he is alive 
 or dead." 
 
 "After all these years, it seems hardly probable, 
 if he were alive, that you wouldn't have heard 
 from him," said the grocer.
 
 1 84 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "But I haven't," she replied, "so what can I do ? 
 I bear his name ; he is the father of my son, and I 
 can't encourage no other man while I'm in doubt." 
 
 "Hallo-o-a! Hallo-o-a! Mr. Jebb! Mr. Jebb!" 
 Sandy's voice came over the water from the direc- 
 tion of Turtle Creek. 
 
 "I do declare, we've been so busy talking we 
 forgot all about the time," said Titcomb, "why, 
 it's nearly six o'clock." 
 
 "It's gettin' dark, too. It looks like a storm was 
 comin'," said Mrs. Foley, noticing heavy clouds 
 gathering over the hills. 
 
 "Hallo-o-a! Hallo-o-a!" came again. 
 
 "We'd better go," said Jebb. The rain began 
 to fall slightly. A distant rumbling of thunder 
 and a flash of lightning caused them to hurry. 
 The grocer helped the widow into the boat and 
 started to hoist the sail. 
 
 "Hallo-o-a! Hallo-o-a!" the boy called once 
 more. 
 
 "Sandy said I'd better row, but I'm sure we can 
 make better time sailing. I don't know much 
 about a boat, but it is not far and we will be there 
 in a few minutes." Titcomb was uncertain of 
 his ability to handle the craft. 
 
 He shoved the Lillian off and she scudded
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 185 
 
 toward the mouth of the creek. The clouds grew 
 blacker and blacker, the lightning began to play 
 incessantly and all heaven's artillery was in action. 
 The rain poured in torrents, and the boat shipped 
 water and lurched violently. The boys were 
 standing on a point projecting into the river and 
 they noticed, with grave apprehension, the erratic 
 steering of the grocer. 
 
 "I don't like things," said Sandy. "I tol' Mr. 
 Jebb not to sail her, because I don't believe he 
 knows any more 'bout a boat than a hog does 'bout 
 Latin. Hallo-o-a! Mr. Jebb; lower that sail as 
 quick as yer can. Great Jehoshaphat, she can't 
 stand ev'rythin'. Gil, run up the bank there, an' 
 git that bateau out an' bring it down. I'd go my- 
 self, if I wuzn't afeerd to git out o' sight o' Jebb 
 an' the widder." 
 
 Titcomb was standing up. Something was 
 amiss with the sail, and he was evidently at a loss 
 what to do. Suddenly the boat made a short turn, 
 swung around quickly, and keeled over in the 
 white-capped water. The boom, swinging out, 
 struck the two occupants, and swept them off 
 their feet into the river. 
 
 Off went Sandy's shoes, hat and coat, and 
 shouting at the top of his voice, "Don't give up,
 
 1 86 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 I'm comin','' he plunged in and swam swiftly 
 toward the struggling couple. 
 
 As he reached them, the grocer, though ex- 
 hausted, was trying to keep the widow from sink- 
 ing. Calling to Sandy, he said faintly : 
 
 "Don't mind me, I'm almost done for ; but save 
 her." 
 
 Mrs. Foley was going down for the second 
 time. Sandy dived, and when he came to the sur- 
 face, he was holding her by the collar. Then he 
 urged Jebb : 
 
 "Swim over here, old man; we're all right if 
 yer don't git scared. Here comes Gil with a boat, 
 an' I'll have yer in it in a jiffy." 
 
 Gilbert came abreast the trio, and helped the 
 widow into the bateau, and then assisted Titcomb. 
 Finally Sandy scrambled in. 
 
 The Lillian, meantime, had righted herself, 
 caught the wind, and dashed into a soft mud-bank 
 a few hundred yards away. The boys rowed 
 over, lowered her sail and took her back to the 
 Sycamores. The storm subsided nearly as quickly 
 as it had come, and the wet and tired quartet 
 started homeward. 
 
 Everybody praised Sandy and Gilbert for their 
 brave rescue of Titcomb and Mary, but the lads
 
 JUNO WENT A-SAILING 187 
 
 preferred to talk of the splendid behavior of 
 the Lillian. 
 
 "She's a beauty an' no mistake/' declared 
 Sandy emphatically, "I don't believe if it blow'd 
 all out-doors she'd turn'd turtle. She's a daisy 
 with a large yaller center. When I seen the boom 
 strike Mrs. Foley an' Mr. Jebb, I tho't it wuz four 
 o'clock f er both of 'em. Mr. Jebb held on ter the 
 widder like grim death to a mop-stick. It's 
 mighty lucky that Gil jest brought that 'ere 
 bateau in the nick o' time, fer I-hope-I-may-die, 
 when they went over, I tho't it wuz four o'clock 
 fer both of 'em, but whichever way it would er 
 wound up, yer can't beat my Lillian"
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 
 
 Our national game ! What an enemy to nepo- 
 tism, paternalism, or any other "ism" that thrives 
 on favor or influence! 
 
 Oh, base-ball ! thou art truly the embodiment of 
 purest democracy; like love, thou dost level all 
 ranks ! 
 
 Of what avail is distinguished ancestry, pre- 
 Adamite origin, cerulean blood or stainless es- 
 cutcheon, when one is at the bat and strikes out! 
 Intellectual superiority, physical perfection, social 
 status, wealth or poverty count for nothing, if 
 you fail to bring in the winning run. 
 
 The game was in full blast in Pipetown. Every 
 afternoon the boys gathered on the common, and 
 the sound of the umpire's voice was abroad in the 
 land. 
 
 The Eagles were champions of their class, and 
 the tri-colored pennant floated proudly from the 
 flag-pole on their grounds. Of all rivals they 
 
 feared most the Smithsonian Rangers, and the 
 188
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 189 
 
 three games with them were the great events of 
 each base-ball season. 
 
 At this time Sandy was captain and pitcher of 
 the Eagles, and day by day his club improved in 
 batting, base running, catching and team work. 
 One position alone was weak that of first base. 
 Five or six boys had been tried there but all had 
 proved unsatisfactory, and Sandy was worried. 
 "If we don't git a first base that can hold it 
 down," he said to Gilbert, after a hard practice 
 game, "the Rangers'll knock the tar out er us, 
 sure." 
 
 "Where will you find him?" queried Gilbert. 
 "You've tried every boy in the neighborhood, and 
 not one has been worth shucks. It puzzles me 
 where you are to find the right man for the 
 position." 
 
 "I wish I could tell yer, Gil," was Sandy's 
 reply, "but I don't know. Yer kin bet I'm hard 
 pushed when I puts a boy like Snarley Foley on 
 first bag. He ain't got sense 'nough to pour water 
 out er a boot. He's the biggest butter-fingers of 
 the lot. I didn't think a feller could muff so much. 
 If I'd 'a' kept him on, I'd had to give him a 
 clo'es-basket to ketch the ball in; nuthin' smaller 
 would 'a' done. Lor' knows where I'll git a first
 
 190 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 baseman. But I ain't give up by no manner o' 
 means." 
 
 Therefore Sandy persevered until by mere acci- 
 dent he found the player he sought. 
 
 As an interested spectator at the practice games, 
 he had frequently noticed a handsome, dark-com- 
 plexioned, well-dressed boy of perhaps sixteen 
 years. He was as tall as Sandy himself, slightly 
 heavier in build and evidently a new-comer in the 
 neighborhood. Clearly he understood the game, 
 for he never failed to applaud a brilliant play. 
 
 About a week before the Eagles' first match 
 game with the Rangers, the stranger was as 
 usual on the field, and showed keen interest in 
 the work of the team. There was a crowd of 
 small boys, upon whom Tom Foley and Fatty 
 Beeks were playing all sorts of practical jokes. 
 One of their favorite tricks, that furnished great 
 sport to every one but the victim, was to have 
 Foley creep up on hands and knees behind some 
 unsuspecting lad, while Fatty with a push sent 
 him sprawling backward over the crouching fel- 
 low conspirator. The joke had been worn thread- 
 bare that afternoon, and it was becoming difficult 
 to find new material to work on. 
 
 The stranger had noticed this rough horse-play,
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN"' 191 
 
 but was so wrapped up in the ball game that he 
 paid little attention to it. Evidently the two 
 jokers believed he would be a good subject, and 
 going through a hurried pantomime they went 
 cautiously toward him; but no sooner had they 
 bumped against the youth, than out shot his right 
 arm, and, grabbing the surprised Fatty by the col- 
 lar, with lightning rapidity he reached for Foley, 
 jerked him to a standing position, and, holding 
 each in a vise-like grip, banged the heads of the 
 two frightened jokers together, and then threw 
 them to the ground. 
 
 A shout of delight came from the lookers-on, 
 and the cowardly rascals, seeing the tables turned 
 upon them, sneaked away. Sandy laughed bois- 
 terously, then walked over and said : 
 
 "That 's bully ; yer whacked their cocoanuts so 
 hard they'd 'a' cracked, if they wuzn't made o' 
 mush." 
 
 "I don't like practical jokes," said the new- 
 comer. 
 
 "Well, yer can bet yer bottom dollar, Snarley 
 and Fatty won't monkey with you no more." 
 
 "I don't think so, either," said the other con- 
 vincingly. 
 
 "Do yer ever play ball?" asked Sandy.
 
 192 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Oh, yts, I'm first base on our nine at school," 
 was the reply. 
 
 "Where is yer school ?" 
 
 "In New York City," said the other. 
 
 "Well, New York City, what's yer t'uther 
 name?" 
 
 "My name is Leander Daindridge." 
 
 "My name's Sandy Goggles, an' I wish yer'd 
 go out an' hold down fust bag fer us," said 
 Sandy, shaking hands cordially with him. 
 
 Young Daindridge took off his coat, turned up 
 the sleeves of his shirt and went toward the base, 
 where for an hour he surprised the team with his 
 fine work in catching, base running, batting and 
 throwing. 
 
 As Sandy and Gilbert strolled homeward after 
 the game, the older boy broke a long silence with, 
 "I don' understand it, Gil." 
 
 "Don't understand what?" asked the little fel- 
 low. 
 
 "I don't understand it at all. That Leander's 
 the fust boy I ever seen what wore Sunday clo'es 
 on a week-day, an' could do anything" and 
 Sandy shook his head as if greatly puzzled. 
 
 "Over the river," he said, and the two boys 
 parted.
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 193 
 
 Next day Leander was permanently installed as 
 first baseman on the Eagles. The youth had all 
 the qualities of a real American boy. He was 
 brave and gentle, unassuming and courteous, and 
 soon became a general favorite. 
 
 The day of the great match with the Rangers 
 was at hand. The Pipetowns consisted of Tub 
 Dykes, catcher; Sandy, pitcher; Leander, first 
 base; Lefty Sparrow, second base; Dink Dabney, 
 short stop; Ernie Crawford, third base; Pat Cor- 
 rigan, left field; Curley Harris, center field, and 
 Sloppy Sowders, right field, and the nine was 
 the strongest the club had ever mustered. The 
 players' ages ranged from fifteen to sixteen. Gil- 
 bert was secretary, treasurer and official scorer 
 all in one. 
 
 The day of the game was the glorious Fourth. 
 Sandy won the toss and sent his team into the 
 field, with the parting words : "Don't fergit, boys, 
 this game's fer blood, an' if we lose, we needn't 
 die ag'in." 
 
 The contest was a hot one, and it was any one's 
 game until the last player had been called out in 
 the ninth inning. But victory was with the Eagles. 
 This was happiness enough for Pipetown, and 
 every man, woman and child went to bed at peace
 
 194 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 with all the world and their neighbors. Sandy 
 and Leander were the favorites of the event. 
 
 On the evening after the match, as the twilight 
 shadows were growing deeper and the soft-faced 
 stars were heralding the coming night, the boys of 
 the victorious ball club were circled about a hol- 
 lowed place on the old chip bank by the river. 
 The memorable contest was reviewed again and 
 again. Leander's wonderful stop in the fifth in- 
 ning and Sandy's home run in the ninth, were 
 enthusiastically commented upon, and many 
 prophecies were ventured on the result of the sec- 
 ond game. 
 
 Dink insisted that the next time the Rangers 
 wouldn't be knee-high to a grasshopper with the 
 Eagles, and he "didn't blow no bazoo nuther." 
 
 Changing the subject, Ernie Crawford said: 
 "Gil, spin us a yarn." 
 
 "Yes, a story," shouted the others. 
 
 "No, I'd rather not to-night," replied the lad. 
 "I've told so many I should think you'd be tired 
 of them." 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy'll tell a story," shouted Ernie. 
 
 "Oh, pshaw! I don't know no stories. I've 
 never been nowhere. I'm no account in that 'ere 
 line, as I tol' yer afore lots er times."
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 195 
 
 "Yes, you are," retorted Gilbert. "Now think 
 of something you've heard or seen." 
 
 Sandy gazed vacantly for some time, then be- 
 gan: "The only thing I kin think of that might 
 do at all, is when the army come home." 
 
 "That's it ; tell us about the great review of the 
 Army of the Potomac. I've heard you say you 
 saw it; so tell us all about it," urged Gilbert. 
 
 "Well, here goes !" said Sandy f alteringly. "If 
 yer boys gits tired, jest say so, an' I'll stop." 
 
 WHEN THE ARMY CAME HOME 
 
 'Twas three years ago last May, jest a little 
 while after Gen'ral Grant an' Gen'ral Lee had 
 their great confab at Appermattox, an' settled 
 things. I guess everybody wuz mighty glad they 
 talked it over an' made up their minds to quit an* 
 stop nghtin' each other. 
 
 My father wuz readin' the Evening Star after 
 supper, an' he ups an' sez, "Jennie, I sees by this 
 'ere paper that the army is comin' home." "The 
 Lor' be praised fer that," sez mum, "an' I hopes 
 an' prays they'll stay home, an' never go off 
 fightin' ag'in," at which my dad sez, "Amen." 
 
 "Jennie," he sez, "I'm a-feelin' it's almost 
 'Lights out' with me, but if the Lor' wills to let
 
 196 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 me stay till the army comes back, I'm a-goin' to 
 put on my uniform, an' jest go out an' see 'em 
 marchin' up the street." 
 
 My old dad was ailin' a terrible lot jest then. 
 Between three or four lead slugs that had never 
 been dug out, an' his sawed-off leg, he was full of 
 mis'ry, but he never croaked. The only way we 
 knowed he wuz sufferin' wuz when he'd holler in 
 his sleep, an' then he wouldn't 'low he did, when 
 we tol* him. He'd say he was jest dreamin' o' 
 nothin' in partic'lar, but, in course, we know'd 
 better. 
 
 Sure 'nuff, the corporation begins cleanin' the 
 streets an' hangin' out buntin' an' flags an' ever- 
 greens, an' there wuz stuck up ev'rywheres signs 
 what said: "Welcome to the Nation's Heroes," 
 "Welcome to the Army of the Potomac," "Wel- 
 come to the Gallant Fifth and Sheridan's Invin- 
 cibles," an' sich like. 
 
 The old man gits his uniform out an' has mum 
 to sew up the bullet-holes, so people wouldn't 
 think it was moth-eaten or worn out, an' when the 
 day come, he spruces up, an' me an' him legs it 
 up town to see the sojers come back. 
 
 When we gits up by the capitol, the school 
 children wuz standin' aroun' on all sides a-waitin'.
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 197 
 
 The gals wuz all dressed in white an' the boys had 
 duck pants on an' blue jackets, an' all of 'em had 
 red, white an' blue rosettes pinned to their shirts. 
 Some of 'em had bo'kets an' things like that to 
 give to the sojers when they come along. 
 
 We stan's there a little while an' hears 'em sing 
 Rally Round the Flag, an' When Johnny Comes 
 Marchin' Home, then the old man sez, a-startin' 
 off: "Let's mosey along to where Andy Johnson 
 an' Grant's goin' to review the boys." 
 
 We kep' on a-walkin' until we got up by the 
 President's house, an' we steps up, brash as yer 
 please, on a stand, jest across from the place where 
 Andy Johnson, Gen'ral Grant and the other big 
 guns wuz goin' to sit an' look. Nobody said 
 nuthin' to us, so we squats right down an' watches 
 the people come a-pilin' in. 
 
 It wuz Guv'ner this, an' Guv'ner that, an' Guv'- 
 ner t'other; it wuz jest rainin' guv'ners. We 
 warn't no guv'ners, an' we know'd we didn't 
 b'long there, but we didn't holler it out so folks 
 could hear us, an' nobody noticed the diff'rence. 
 Afore long ther' wuz some clappin' an' shoutin', 
 an' Andy Johnson and the Gen'ral comes out on 
 the stand opposite. Then a lot er high-up officers, 
 an' sich folk, hustles on, lookin' mighty well-kept
 
 198 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 an' important. There wuz two boys 'mong that 
 crowd, an' somebody sez they're the Gen'ral's 
 children. I spec' they wuz orful proud o' their 
 daddy, fer yer could hear the people hollerin', 
 "Grant, Grant! Hurray fer Grant!" more'n any- 
 thin' else jest then. 
 
 Well, sir, we hears a rumblin' down the street 
 an' we know'd the Army wuz comin'. There wuz 
 a fine-lookin' gen'ral ridin' in front. One of the 
 pack er guv'ners sez, "There's Meade !" I'd never 
 seen him afore, but I took the guv'ner's word fer 
 it. Then come a lot 'er officers, some clean an' 
 new-lookin', an' 't'others consid'rably s'iled, an' 
 as they passed the President, they s'luted with 
 their swords an' kep' right on. 
 
 I wuz jest wishin' it would get a little excitin', 
 when, lickety-split, the devil's own horse comes 
 tearin' up the street fer all he wuz worth. He cer- 
 t'nly did look bad. The crowd stops cacklin' an' 
 rose up like bees a-swarmin', an' strains their 
 necks peekin'. There wuz 'n officer on the horse, 
 with no hat on. His long lightish hair wuz jest 
 blowin' ev'ryway ; ther' wuz a great wreath swung 
 on his left arm, an' that 'ere horse wuz runnin' as 
 if Satan hisself wuz chasin' it. I wuz so scared 
 I jest kep' my mouth shet fer fear I'd spit out my
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 199 
 
 heart. My father grabs my arm tight as a vise; 
 yer could see the place a week afterwards. 
 
 "My God, he '11 be dashed to pieces !" hollers 
 a lady, holdin' on to the rail. 
 
 "Who is it?" shouts a guv'ner, shakin' like a 
 aspen leaf. 
 
 "It's Custer!" bellers er officer, jumpin' on a 
 chair, mos' dead from excitement. 
 
 "That's all right!" yells my daddy, as loud as 
 he knows how. "Set down, an' enj'y yerself." 
 
 Jest then the horse rears up, an' when he come 
 down I tho't he wuz goin' heels over head. 
 
 "Oh !" cries all the people at onct, a-shudderin'. 
 
 "Set down!" yells my dad ag'in. "Set down; 
 it's Custer, an' it's all right. He don't ride a 
 horse 'cause he has to ; he rides 'cause he kin." 
 
 Per a minute yer could hear a pin drop. An' lo 
 an' behold, we sees the Gen'ral comin' back, an' his 
 horse was steppin' soft an' actin' as gentle as a 
 parson's nag on Sunday. Custer was a-bowin' to 
 Andy an' Grant an' the ladies as he passes, an' he 
 wuz jest as ca'm an' smilin' as if he wuz in a 
 parlor. 
 
 Oh, my, how that crowd did clap an' hurray! 
 Yer'd a-tho't it wuz a house er-fire. My dad said 
 he felt like he had hair clean down his back, an'
 
 200 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 ev'ry one a-standin' up, when he seen that horse 
 runnin' away, but when he heard it was Custer he 
 jest lay back, an' could er snoozed, he felt so 
 peaceful like. Pop sed Custer wouldn't know 
 how to start gittin' scared. 
 
 Pretty soon along comes his cav'lry, an' they 
 cert'nly did look scrumptious with their carbines, 
 an' sabers an' red scarfs a-danglin' sassy-like 
 round their necks. They had a band, an' it was 
 tootin' chunes that ev'rybody was keepin' time to, 
 an' even dad was a-pumpin' up an' down with his 
 cork leg. 
 
 After a while the Zoo-Zoos comes by, all in red 
 trimmin's, an' red tassels on the caps, an' it wuz 
 jest great, an* the Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the 
 Boys are Marchin', stayed with me till I got home. 
 Lots of the flags had crape on 'em. One of the 
 guv'ners sed it wuz 'cause Mr. Lincoln had died, 
 an' that wuz mighty sorrowful to ev'rybody 
 aroun', to say nuthin' of poor ol' dad. 
 
 When dad an' mum an' me was sittin' talkin' 
 'bout it that night, pop sez : "It wuz fine, an' no 
 mistake." But after he had lit his pipe, he sez : 
 "Jest wait till to-morrer, an' then yer'll see some- 
 thin' that yer'll see. My Army is comin'. The 
 Bummers with Uncle Billy an' Black Jack'll be
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN'" 2OI 
 
 marchin' in, an' they'll make Rome howl !" Pop 
 was powerful fond of Uncle Billy an' Black Jack, 
 an' proud he'd been with The Bummers. When 
 he wuz argufyin' he'd say it might be a matter 
 o' dooty fer a sojer to lose his leg with any army, 
 but with The Bummers it wuz a pleasure, an' I 
 don't believe he'd a-taken it back if hell had froze 
 over. 
 
 Well, sir, nex' mornin', bright an' early, me an' 
 dad starts up, an' when we gits to the Botanical 
 Gardens by the Tiber Creek bridge, we finds a pile 
 o' bricks, an' as they looks handy to set on, we 
 perempts 'em, an' we could see hunky-dory. 
 
 At nine o'clock, "Boom !" goes the signal gun, 
 an' afore yer got tired waitin' along comes The 
 Bummers. They looked like they had been mos' 
 too busy to change their fightin' clo'es. Their 
 broad-brimmed hats looked great, an' the crowd 
 got stuck on 'em mighty soon. 
 
 Officers come 'long with wreaths on their 
 horses' necks, an' lots an' lots er the sojers had 
 bo'kets stuck in their guns, an' Lor' alive, but they 
 did hoof it. Yer could hear 'em plunk, plunk, 
 plunk, the boys are marchin', till yer couldn't 
 rest. 
 
 Well, sir, here comes a sojer marchin' 'long
 
 202 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 with his comp'ny, an' I-hope-I may-die, if he 
 didn't have a racoon a-settin' on his shoulder. 
 That racoon jest put his face down by the side 
 of the sojer's cheek an' looked out at the crowd, 
 jest as sharp an' bright as yer please, an' it 
 seemed to me he was sayin' : 
 
 "I've bin there, I've bin there; I've been 
 fightin'." 
 
 The crowd clapped an' laughed to split their 
 sides. Then up comes a tall sojer carryin' a flag 
 pole, an' the flag was faded an' shot to pieces. 
 There wuz stains on it that look'd like blood, an' 
 all at once the breeze jest flung that flag out, 
 proud an' defiant like, an' I thought it sed, plain 
 as possible : 
 
 "I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin 
 fightin'." 
 
 The crowd clapped till the flag was out er sight, 
 an' pretty soon along comes mules, an' donkeys, 
 an' goats, an' dogs, an' cows, an' I-hope-I-may- 
 die if there wuzn't a rooster perched on a horse's 
 back an' a-crowin' : 
 
 "I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin 
 fightin'." 
 
 And we jest went crazy, clappin'. 
 
 When the sappers an' miners comes, their
 
 "I'VE BIN FIGHTIN' " 203 
 
 blouses tucked in their pants an' their belts tight- 
 ened, an' shoulderin' their shovels, picks an' axes, 
 we knowed they'd bin there. We knowed they 
 had chopped, had dug, had shoveled their way to 
 vict'ry, an' to Glory Hallelujah. An' when they 
 pass'd, the line comes to a halt fer a minute. My 
 ol' dad wuz keepin' both eyes open, an' all of a 
 sudden I seen a sojer lookin' at dad, an' he hol- 
 lers out : 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned; there's Dan Goggles!" 
 And afore yer could say Jack Robinson, he tosses 
 his gun to another feller, an' rushed over to dad, 
 an' honest-to-goodness, if they didn't hug each 
 other like they wuz two mothers. 
 
 "I tho't yer wuz dead, Dan," said the sojer, as 
 if he wuz goin' to cry. 
 
 "I heerd you wuz, Sam," said dad, an* he wuz 
 a-blubberin*. 
 
 "No; I'm all right," said Sam, laughin' happy 
 like an' pattin' my cocoanut. 
 
 "An' I'm all right, too," said dad. He wuzn't, 
 but he didn't let on. 
 
 And then I know'd the sojer was Sam Dickson, 
 who had gone to the war with dad, an' they had 
 marched an' starved an' almost died together. I 
 know'd it, fer one of the other sojers told me.
 
 204 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Well, sir, what must we do, but dad jest takes 
 his place in that 'ere company right 'long side o' 
 Sam, an' Sam handed his gun to me, an' I walked 
 in. front a-totin' it at right-shoulder-shift, jest like 
 all the sojers in the reg'ment. 
 
 An' Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the Boys Are 
 Marchin', we went up the Av'nue. Dad stepped 
 out jest as if he hadn't enny cork leg, an' I 
 stretched my shanks f er all I wuz worth. 
 
 The people clapped an' clapped, an' give me a 
 bo'ket, an' dad got a lot o' 'em, an' the officer 
 who wuz march in' right in front er the comp'ny 
 kep' his eyes glued ahead, an' pretendin' he didn't 
 see nuthin', which cert'nly was mighty white er 
 him. 
 
 We wheeled round the corner. Jest as we got 
 to the gran' stan' the officers shouted out their 
 orders. Me an' The Bummers presented arms, 
 an' dad s'luted as we passed the President. The 
 crowd seemed jest crazy happy, but I wuz orful 
 lonesome, 'cause I wuz the only one in that 'ere 
 hull review who couldn't say : 
 
 "I've bin there, I've bin there; I've bin 
 nghtin'."
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SANDY AND LKANDER HAVE IT OUT 
 
 "I think you're a mean old thing, so there !" 
 
 Zorah laughed in rippling coquetry and waited 
 for Sandy to speak. The boy was busy repairing 
 the weather-beaten arbor that extended from the 
 street to the front door of his little home. He 
 stopped working and looked inquiringly in the 
 direction of the speaker. 
 
 "I mean just what I say," continued the maid, 
 assuming an air of mock gravity. 
 
 "What have I been an' done?" asked Sandy. 
 
 "To think you built a boat and never so much as 
 said to me, 'Won't you go sailing?'" and she 
 shook her finger at him reprovingly. "I'll never, 
 never forgive you." 
 
 "In course," said Sandy apologetically, "I in- 
 ten' to take ev'rybody out sailin' in the Lillian, 
 sooner or later." 
 
 "Sooner or later don't suit me at all, an' if you 
 had any gumption you'd know that, too," toss- 
 ing her head scornfully. 
 
 205
 
 206 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I spec's that's so; I ain't got no noddle for 
 gals," faltered the boy. 
 
 "Oh, you mustn't act as if you don't know 
 enough to come in when it's raining. You've got 
 gumption enough to ask others to go in your 
 boat." 
 
 "They wuzn't no gals I asked: they wuz only 
 the Jedge, an' Dink, an' Gil, an' his little sister 
 Lillian." 
 
 "Well, if you thought of Lillian, why didn't 
 you think of me?" 
 
 "Mebbe I should have, but I ain't got no noddle 
 fer gals, generally," drawled Sandy, perplexed. 
 
 "Oh, tell that to the marines. A boom-e-laddy 
 wouldn't believe it," said Zorah, with a disdainful 
 shake of her head. 
 
 "Gals never pays no 'tention to me," retorted 
 Sandy, now on the defensive. 
 
 "I suppose you want them to kneel down in 
 front of you and say, "Oh, Mr. Goggles, won't 
 you take me out sailing?'" and Zorah panto- 
 mimed the action most extravagantly. 
 
 "If a gal did that I'd think her looney," replied 
 the boy. 
 
 "Of course you would. Leander was surprised 
 when I told him I hadn't been in your boat."
 
 'I THINK YOU'RE A MEAN OLD THING, SO THERE!" 
 
 Page 205
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 207 
 
 She spoke as if a great wrong had been done 
 her. 
 
 "Mebbe yer'd like to go sailin' with him," 
 Sandy suggested, with a touch of impatience. 
 
 "That would be simply delightful." The little 
 coquette clasped her hands fervently, and looked 
 heavenward. 
 
 "If yer wants to, I'll lend him my boat." 
 
 "No, thank you," quickly answered the tor- 
 ment ; "I don't go in borrowed boats." 
 
 "A borrowed boat is better'n no boat at t'all," 
 fired back Sandy hotly. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that; somebody I 
 know has a new boat," this in a tantalizing tone. 
 
 "D'yer mean Leander?" questioned Sandy in 
 surprise. 
 
 "You can go up head; you guessed right the 
 first time," and Zorah laughed triumphantly. 
 
 "When did he git a boat?" 
 
 "His uncle, the Commodore, gave him a regu- 
 lar beauty this morning." 
 
 "Who told yer?" asked Sandy. 
 
 "Leander told me so himself. You know he's 
 awfully fond of calling at our house, and we do 
 love to have him, he's so bright and cheerful. 
 He's got such fine hair and peachy skin. Crissie
 
 208 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 says any girl would be proud of such a beautiful, 
 clear complexion ; not a freckle, as we can see," 
 and Zorah dwelt on the word "freckle" as though 
 it were a bitter morsel. 
 
 "I s'pose that's so; but what's the name o' the 
 boat?" 
 
 "Leander hasn't named it yet, but he expects 
 to call it the Zorah." 
 
 The boy started violently, and, slightly flushed, 
 asked huskily: "Did he say he'd call it the 
 Zorah?" 
 
 "No, not exactly ; but he said he thought Zorah 
 would be an awful nice name for it. I said so 
 first, and then he said so," volunteered the tan- 
 talizer. 
 
 "Would yer let a plumb stranger name his boat 
 fer yer?" 
 
 "What has that got to do with it?" 
 
 "Lots an' lots," answered the other. "A total 
 stranger's got no business to use names like Zorah, 
 when he knows gals at home with other names." 
 
 "I can't see how that concerns you." 
 
 "I thought yer had too much pride to 'low it," 
 hotly exclaimed the boy. 
 
 "It's just because I have pride, that I want a 
 boat called Zorah."
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 209 
 
 "If yer wanted my boat called Zorah, why 
 didn't yer say so?" 
 
 "If you wanted to call your boat Zorah, why 
 didn't you say so ?" 
 
 "I didn't want to." 
 
 "Then you have no right to object, if Leander 
 does." 
 
 "Yer hinted him into doin' it," said the boy 
 stoutly. 
 
 "That's more than I could do with you." 
 
 "Yer didn't try," exclaimed Sandy. 
 
 "What's the use ? A brick house would have to 
 fall before you'd take a hint." 
 
 "Mebbe ye're right, Zorah. I axes yer pard'n 
 fer gittin' excited an' f ergittin' myself ; but I calls 
 my boat the Lillian, 'cause I likes Gil's little sister 
 an' she likes me, an' she told me so the very fust 
 time I seen her." 
 
 "I suppose if everybody told you they liked you 
 the first time they saw you, your boat would have 
 as many names as a city directory?" 
 
 "I didn't say so," answered the boy. 
 
 "Well, I think it would, and I am very much 
 obliged to you for not calling your boat Zorah, 
 'cause everybody will know that you don't like me, 
 and that is delightful."
 
 9 
 210 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "'Tain't true," Sandy shook his head sol- 
 emnly. 
 
 "How do I know it ain't true?" 
 
 " 'Cause I sez it." 
 
 "Well, it's the first time you said it, and I hope 
 you feel better," exclaimed Zorah maliciously. 
 
 Gilbert came at this moment and looked at his 
 friends amusedly. 
 
 "What's the matter with you two quarreling 
 again?" he asked. 
 
 "I 'spect I've been makin' a monkey o' myself," 
 said Sandy. 
 
 "How is it you can't be together five minutes 
 without being at daggers' points?" said Gilbert. 
 
 "Sandy's awful hard to get along with," spoke 
 Zorah sadly. 
 
 "Mebbe that's so. I ain't got them soft ways 
 that goes with gals," Sandy admitted regretfully. 
 
 "Of course you have, but Zorah simply doesn't 
 understand you," said Gilbert encouragingly. 
 
 "I certainly don't," answered Zorah firmly. 
 
 "Now let's see," said Gilbert, "if we can't get 
 up a conversation between you without ending in 
 a fight. Sit down Zorah," and he pointed to a 
 bench inside the arbor. 
 
 The little maid seated herself most demurely.
 
 "Sandy, you sit there," pointing to the other 
 end of the bench. "I'll sit between you and direct 
 the conversation. Now, Sandy, you begin, and 
 say what I say." 
 
 "I'll say anythin' yer sez, little codger." 
 
 "So will I," repeated the chatterbox, not to be 
 outdone. 
 
 "Now, we'll start," said Gilbert. Imitating 
 Sandy's voice he began: 
 
 "Good morning, Zorah." Sandy solemnly re- 
 peated the words after him. 
 
 "Good morning, Sandy," and Zorah mim- 
 icked Gilbert, all the time suppressing her mirth. 
 
 Gilbert intoned the following sentences, which 
 were alternately repeated by Sandy and Zorah, 
 much in the style of the Litany. 
 
 "I hope your mother's well." 
 
 "Very well, thank you." 
 
 "Mine has been sick." 
 
 "How sad! nothing serious, I hope?" 
 
 "Oh, no; just a slight ailment." 
 
 "There were a million cats in our back yard 
 last night, Sandy." 
 
 "A million?" 
 
 "Well, a thousand." 
 
 "A thousand?"
 
 212 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Well, a hundred." 
 
 "A hundred?" 
 
 "Well, our Tom and another cat." 
 
 "Oh!" This exclamation was long drawn-out 
 by the children, and then the absurd dialogue was 
 broken by loud and uncontrolled laughter on the 
 part of all of them. 
 
 "Now, you see how easy it is to get along with- 
 out quarreling," remarked Gilbert. 
 
 "Don't yer think we might git them speeches 
 down by heart, an' jest say 'em to each other 
 when we meets, an' nuthin' else?" queried Sandy 
 soberly. 
 
 "Yes, that's a great idea, Sandy," replied the 
 little maid. "But let's start with five million cats, 
 and then it will take a little longer." Zorah 
 looked roguishly at the elder boy. "I guess I 
 must go now," she continued. 
 
 "I've been tryin' to see Leander all day," inter- 
 posed Sandy. 
 
 "I'm going to see him the first thing in the 
 morning," volunteered Zorah. 
 
 "I've bin to his house twict already to-day an' 
 they sed he'd gone to Georgetown an' wouldn't 
 be back till late to-night," continued Sandy. "I 
 wants him to know that the game with the Ran-
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 2 1 3 
 
 gers is to-morrer. They had ter move it up a day 
 sooner on 'count of some shenanagin 'bout the 
 grounds. Will yer please tell him about it, Zorah, 
 so he won't make no mistake?" 
 
 "Certainly," she replied ; "you can depend upon 
 me." 
 
 "Did Leander surely say he'd go sailin' in the 
 mornin'?" questioned Sandy very earnestly. 
 
 "No, not 'specially. I said so first, and then he 
 said it after me." 
 
 "Well, tell him if he does go to be sure and be 
 back in time fer the game, fer we needs him 
 mighty bad and we'd be in a orful hole if he 
 didn't show up." 
 
 "Trust me, and good-by. Trust me to tell him 
 what you said," and Zorah departed. 
 
 "Sandy," said Gilbert, as they watched the little 
 minx disappear, "mother wants a hornet's nest 
 for the parlor, and the Jedge has promised to go 
 with me for it day after to-morrow. He says he 
 knows where the yellow-jackets build every year 
 and we can get a cracking good one." 
 
 "I'd like to go with yer, little codger, but I've 
 got a lot er hustlin' to do to-morrer an' the next 
 day; if I git through in time, though, I'll meet 
 yer down by the Burnt Bridge."
 
 214 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "All right, I'll expect to see you when the Jedge 
 and I reach there on our way back." 
 
 The two boys picked up hammer and nails, and 
 work was resumed on the arbor. 
 
 "Zorah made me mad clean through this morn- 
 in'," put in Sandy, " 'cause she said I fergot to 
 take her out in the Lillian. She'd orter know 
 I'd a-called my boat Zorah if yer'd never had no 
 little sister. Girls kin rile yer, can't they?" 
 
 "I wouldn't mind Zorah if I were you," said 
 Gilbert; "she's a regular little pill-garlic. I'm 
 sure she likes you better than anybody else, and 
 loves to put on luggs just for the fun of it." 
 
 "Mebbe that's all right, but I don't think she 
 orter let a plumb stranger gobble up her name 
 fer his boat," this with just a tinge of petu- 
 lance. 
 
 "I wouldn't mind that," was Gilbert's soothing 
 comment. "My father says that women never 
 reason when they're angry, and I guess Zorah 
 was put out because she felt herself slighted." 
 
 Next morning Aunt Harriet, Crissie and Zorah 
 went to the Yard to meet Leander. He led the 
 way to the wharf, and they embarked for the trip. 
 
 "We'll go down the river," he said, "cross over 
 to Four-Mile Run, have our lunch and return
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 2 1 5 
 
 about two." Then he raised the sail and the boat 
 glided out into the stream. 
 
 They had a delightful time, the luncheon was 
 most enjoyable, and it was Zorah's pleasure to 
 christen the new boat after herself, "Not with 
 soda pop, but with real champagne," her aunt ex- 
 plained the next day, with satirical emphasis. 
 
 On the way homeward, the wind was such that 
 Leander found it necessary to tack continually. 
 When opposite Giesboro Point the boat suddenly 
 ran on a bar, stuck hard and fast, and, in spite of 
 the boy's efforts, she would not budge. Worse 
 yet, the water was receding. 
 
 "This is tough, and no mistake," said Leander. 
 "We must make the best of it, and wait until the 
 tide changes and floats us off." 
 
 "How long will that be?" anxiously questioned 
 Zorah. 
 
 "I should say in three or four hours," replied 
 the boy. 
 
 "Oh, I forgot to tell you; Sandy gave me a 
 message," remembered the maid suddenly. 
 
 "What was it?" asked Leander. 
 
 "He said to be sure and not forget that the 
 game with the Rangers was this afternoon at 
 three."
 
 2l6 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "This afternoon ? I thought the game was to- 
 morrow," he said. 
 
 "They made it one day sooner, 'cause of a mix- 
 up about the grounds, and Sandy asked me to tell 
 you without fail." 
 
 "I'll never get there now," said the boy, much 
 worried; "I'm awfully sorry, for Sandy hasn't 
 any one to play first base, and that makes it 
 mighty bad for the Eagles." 
 
 "I meant to tell you when we started, but I for- 
 got," excused the girl, beginning to realize the 
 trouble her forgetfulness might cause. 
 
 "I do wish you had," Leander said with great 
 earnestness. "I wouldn't have missed the game 
 for anything, and you know we could have gone 
 sailing any other day. I hope Sandy will under- 
 stand I didn't keep away for lack of interest in 
 the club." 
 
 For three hours they sat, watching the tide re- 
 cede, reach its ebb, and begin slowly to return. 
 At last the boat floated off, but it was beyond 
 night-fall when Leander and his party arrived at 
 the anchorage. 
 
 At Zorah's home they heard the discouraging 
 news that the Rangers had defeated the Eagles, 
 because, as Dink said, "Sandy had ter put Snarley
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 2 1 7 
 
 Foley on first base, an' he was the rottenest yer 
 ever seen." 
 
 Among the "faithfuls" that night at Jebb's 
 store, the principal topic of conversation was the 
 ball game and Leander's contemptible action in 
 not appearing. 
 
 "It's a blamed shame," said the Jedge. "The 
 Rangers couldn't beat the Eagles onct in a thou- 
 sand years if they had their full nine on hand. 
 Here's poor Sandy workin' like a yeller nigger to 
 git 'em inter shape, an' Leander throws him down 
 an' never shows up." 
 
 "Yer never can put no confidence in them 'ere 
 boys that wears Sunday clo'es on week-days, an' 
 sez 'if yer please' an' 'I begs yer pardon/ every 
 five minits," snarled Tom Foley. 
 
 "We don't want no free-gratis-fer-nuthin' ad- 
 vice from you, Snarley," said Sandy. "We'd a 
 won that game if Leander'd held down first base. 
 When I puts yer on the base I know'd we wuz as 
 good as done fer, but I had ter do it, 'cause there 
 wuzn't 'nother snoozer round that knew straight 
 up an' down." 
 
 "Yer ain't got no right ter sock me," whined 
 Foley. "Yer turned me off, an' didn't gimme no 
 chance ter practise."
 
 2l8 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I turned yer off 'cause I knowed if I kep' yer 
 on we'd a-stood as much chance as a sausage in 
 a dog house," retorted Sandy. "An' that's all 
 the chance we did have." 
 
 "Well, I ain't a reg'lar stickin' plaster round 
 gals, anyway," blurted Foley. 
 
 "Who's a stickin' plaster?" asked Sandy. 
 
 "Leander Daindridge is," sneered Snarley. 
 "He jest goes off with Zorah Dabney a-sailin' 
 down the river, an' don't care a tinker's darn 
 whether the Eagles lose er win, so long as he kin 
 stick near a petticoat." 
 
 "If that's so, I'll tell him what I think of him," 
 said Sandy angrily. 
 
 "Tell him he's a stickin' plaster, an' see how he 
 likes it," dared the other, feeding Sandy's indig- 
 nation. 
 
 "I'll tell him; don't fash yerself." 
 
 "He know'd yer wuz goin' ter play, so he goes 
 off an' ties hisself to a piece er calico. Enny 
 galoot what cares more f er calico than he does fer 
 his word is no 'count nohow." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't give a picayune fer a feller as 
 goes back on his pals," emphasized Sandy. 
 
 "Yer wouldn't tell him that to his face," hissed 
 Tom.
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 219 
 
 "I would, if it wuz the last word I ever spoke," 
 asserted the angry lad with determination. 
 
 "Let's see if yer do" and with that as a part- 
 ing shot, Snarley walked out of the store. 
 
 The next day Leander went to explain, but was 
 told that Sandy was not at home; he had gone 
 down to the old Burnt Bridge to meet Gilbert. 
 As Leander sauntered in the direction of the river, 
 he was met by Tom Foley, who shot the question 
 at him at once. 
 
 "Why didn't yer come ter the game yester- 
 day?" 
 
 "Well, first of all, I didn't know there was one 
 until it was too late, and when I found it out, my 
 boat was stuck on a bar, and it was impossible to 
 move her until nearly dark." 
 
 "That's all right," said Tom, in his most ir- 
 ritating tone, "yer might tell that ter the man in 
 the moon, but I wouldn't say it to a feller who'd 
 cut his eye teeth an' know'd a thing er two." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Leander. 
 
 "Yer knows yer wuz out with the prettiest piece 
 er calico round here, an' yer couldn't keep away 
 frum it." 
 
 "Nonsense. I wouldn't have missed the game 
 for anything," insisted Leander.
 
 220 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "That's all in me eye, sez Betty Martin. Ye're 
 stuck on the gals, an' the gals is stuck on you." 
 
 "You flatter me, Tom," laughingly replied 
 Leander. 
 
 "Well, Sandy notices it, an' he sez yer nuthin' 
 but a stickin' plaster." 
 
 "When did he say that?" Leander's tone had 
 lost its laughter. 
 
 "Yesterday after the game, an' he sed a lot 
 more things that wouldn't sound well in Sunday- 
 school, an' he 'lowed he wouldn't give a tinker's 
 darn fer no boy ez would stick to a petticoat an' 
 go back on his pals." 
 
 "Did Sandy say that ?" Leander's face flushed 
 violently, and anger shot from his eye. 
 
 "Them's his very words, as-I-hope-fer-salva- 
 tion," said Foley. 
 
 "I'll give him a chance to tell me that to my 
 face," and Leander's teeth closed tightly, as he 
 clenched his fists. 
 
 "That's jest what I sez to him, jest exactly," 
 piled on Foley, "I sez to him, 'Yer won't tell him 
 that to his face/ " 
 
 By this time the two boys were near the Burnt 
 Bridge. 
 
 There they saw Sandy, with nine or ten com-
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 221 
 
 panions, who were heatedly discussing the match 
 of the day before. 
 
 Leander walked toward the group, and with 
 great deliberation, said: 
 
 "Goggles, I've been told you said something 
 about me yesterday." 
 
 "Well, what of it ?" asked Sandy half savagely. 
 
 "There is this much of it," Leander spoke 
 without a tremor, and with commanding gesture, 
 "you've got to take it back." 
 
 "I don't take nuthin' back," eying the other boy 
 from head to foot, and folding his arms in an 
 attitude of defiance. 
 
 "Then you've got to whip me, or I'll whip 
 you." Leander spoke slowly and emphatically. 
 
 "That suits me to a T," said Sandy, taking off 
 his jacket, rolling up his trousers and pulling off 
 his outer shirt. 
 
 Leander slowly removed his tie, collar and 
 shirt, and converted his suspenders into a belt. 
 
 Both boys threw their caps on the pile of dis- 
 carded clothes. 
 
 "Enny kickin' ?" asked Sandy. 
 
 "I never kick," answered Leander. 
 
 "Nuther does I. Enny bitin' ?" 
 
 "I never bite."
 
 222 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Nuther does I," replied Sandy. "Enny wras- 
 'lin'?" 
 
 "As much as you like." 
 
 "Then it's square up an' down, no hittin' under 
 the belt, an* wras'lin', as I understands it," said 
 Sandy. 
 
 The boys present formed a ring, watched with 
 breathless interest every movement, and heard 
 with strained ears each word that passed between 
 the combatants. The comparative prowess of 
 these two had been cause for argument and dis- 
 pute from the day of Leander's advent. As the 
 opponents stood facing each other, the contrast 
 in their general build was easily discerned. 
 
 Leander was quite as tall as Sandy, possibly ten 
 pounds heavier, with broader shoulders, head 
 finely poised, and his black hair giving him the 
 appearance of a Greek youth of the time when 
 Athens was the Mecca for the lovers of sports. 
 
 Sandy was longer-armed, and appeared to be 
 only muscle and bone. His red hair glinted in 
 the sunlight and his blue eyes seemed brightness 
 itself. 
 
 Of fear there appeared no trace in either boy. 
 
 Leander put up his defense first, and Sandy 
 began slowly to circle around him, each boy spar-
 
 ring lightly and feeling his way with extreme 
 caution. 
 
 The onlookers held their breath and the tension 
 was keen. 
 
 Suddenly Sandy's left swung in a semicircle 
 and caught Leander just above the eye, raising a 
 "goose-egg" almost immediately. Leander 
 rushed in to clinch, but Sandy side-stepped and 
 avoided a malicious straight blow from Leander's 
 right. 
 
 They moved about and again Sandy lunged for 
 his opponent's eye, but fell short and received a 
 terrific counter which closed his right eye. Sandy's 
 face puffed out perceptibly. Leander tried to rush 
 him again, but without success. The red-headed 
 boy was feeling for Leander's nose, and, with dex- 
 terous in-fighting jabs, adroitly landed plump 
 and square on that organ, damaging it and set- 
 ting the blood flowing freely. 
 
 For the next two minutes they became more 
 and more wary in their tactics, blocking, dodging 
 and dropping cleverly. Then Leander attempted 
 to wear out the lighter boy by falling heavily 
 against him in clinches, but Sandy was too nim- 
 ble for him. Another clash, and Sandy reached 
 Leander's left eye, which was soon closed. It
 
 224 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 was give and take for the next three minutes, 
 with honors easy as to points and punishment. 
 
 Sandy was playing for Leander's left ear and 
 almost immediately had it swollen and discolored, 
 while Sandy's blind side was continually catching 
 it from Leander's terrific rushes. Leander tried 
 to reach Sandy's jaw, when the freckle-faced boy 
 closed in, hooking a blow on the other's good eye, 
 which went rapidly into mourning. With both 
 optics closing fast, Leander rushed again and 
 clinched. Sandy wanted to shake himself free 
 but could not, and, throwing his arms over the 
 heavier boy to 'protect himself from harm, rolled 
 over on the grass with Leander. 
 
 The fighters were nearly used up, but too game 
 to give in. They struggled to pin each other's 
 shoulders to the ground, but at every endeavor 
 one or the other would squirm out and the battle 
 be renewed. 
 
 A small row-boat landed at the bridge abut- 
 ment, and the Jedge and Gilbert stepped out. The 
 latter, taking a tightly-closed basket on his arm, 
 walked toward the crowd, which had attracted 
 his attention as the boat neared the shore. He 
 saw that something unusual was going on, but at 
 his distance could not tell just what it was.
 
 SANDY AND LEANDER HAVE IT OUT 225 
 
 Once at the ring, though, the Jedge and Gilbert 
 speedily realized what the cause of the excitement 
 was, and, rushing in between the combatants, they 
 grasped them by the shoulders and tried to sepa- 
 rate them. Very much excited, Gilbert dropped 
 his basket and begged Sandy and Leander to stop. 
 The fighters, still struggling, staggered to their 
 feet, but again they went over, striking the basket 
 with all their weight. 
 
 Out flew a swarm of angry yellow-jackets, and 
 in an instant there was a wild rush on the part of 
 everybody to escape from the hornets' stings. 
 
 Five minutes later, the Jedge and Gilbert 
 helped Sandy and Leander to wash the blood and 
 mud from their faces. Bruised, battered and 
 stung, the late fighters, with their two friends, 
 sat down on the river-bank. 
 
 "What wuz yer fightin' 'bout?" asked the 
 Jedge. 
 
 "Hanged if I know," answered Sandy. 
 
 "Neither do I," said Leander, trying to smile 
 through his bruises. 
 
 "I'll bet some liar sed somethin' to start yer," 
 suggested the Jedge. 
 
 "Well, Tom Foley " began Leander. 
 
 " 'Tain't necessary to say nuthin' else," inter-
 
 226 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 rupted the Jedge, "if Tom Foley sed it, yer can 
 bet it's a lie. Shake hands, an' say ye're sorry yer 
 started to bang each other." 
 
 "I'm willing," agreed Leander, extending his 
 hand. 
 
 "So am I," and Sandy grasped Leander's 
 hand with all the warmth of true friendship.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 
 
 A marked change had come over Mrs. Foley 
 from the day Titcomb Jebb had made the avowal 
 of his love up by the Sycamores, along the banks 
 of the beautiful river. The years of weary toil, 
 since the desertion of her husband, had driven the 
 iron deep into her soul, and her temper had suf- 
 fered accordingly. She had been sullen, morose, 
 and easily aroused to violent anger, particularly 
 by the escapades of her scapegrace son. 
 
 Now, however, she was transformed into a 
 quiet, non-assertive being, whose voice was never 
 raised in passion, and who went about her work 
 in a spirit of complete resignation. She was no 
 longer enveloped in the mist of distrust, because 
 deep love and the joy of living were budding in 
 her heart. 
 
 The one thing that interfered with her com- 
 plete happiness was a conscientious scruple 
 against divorce. While the grocer felt that Mrs. 
 
 Foley was not indifferent to him, he was unsuc- 
 227
 
 228 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 cessful when he tried to persuade her to secure 
 her freedom in a court of law. One evening, 
 when he attempted to argue the matter with her, 
 Mrs. Foley's answer was: 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, I don't believe I could marry unless 
 I knew Dennis was dead, divorce or no divorce. 
 'Tain't for my sake that I take this stand. God 
 knows, if I was free I'd be the happiest woman 
 in the world to be your wife. 'Tain't fair to you. 
 S'pose that bummer'd turn up. Ornery as he is, 
 he'd cook up some yarn to get folks' sympathy, 
 and you'd never get any peace on this earth, and 
 I'd blame myself for bringin' that mis'ry on you." 
 
 "Then we must make every effort to learn some- 
 thing definite about him." 
 
 "That's what I think ; but how are you goin' to 
 do it? This is a large country, and he might be 
 tucked away ever so far, and dead or alive, we 
 couldn't find him/' she answered. 
 
 "Suppose we go and see Colonel Franklin to- 
 night, take him into our confidence and ask his 
 advice." 
 
 "I think that's a good idea. Just wait till I 
 get my bonnet and shawl and I'll go with you." 
 
 They found the Colonel in his study, and in few 
 words Titcomb explained the object of their visit.
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 229 
 
 "How long has your husband been gone?" 
 asked the lawyer. 
 
 "Five years, comin' Christmas," answered the 
 widow. 
 
 "Did he say when he left that he would not re- 
 turn to live with you?" 
 
 "No, not exactly. After Tom was born Dennis 
 would go off a year or two at a time, then come 
 back and say he was sorry. And I, like a fool, 
 would always believe him. But the night he went 
 for good, he had just got a lot of money from a 
 Richmond gentleman for enlistin' in the Southern 
 Army, and when I asked him for some of it to 
 pay the butcher and the baker and the candle- 
 stick-maker, he ups and hit me, and that's the 
 last I ever seen of him. Times got so hard down 
 our way, that work as I would, I couldn't make 
 both ends meet, and I wrote to the Confederate 
 authorities at Richmond askin' about Dennis. 
 After a while I got a letter which said that he 
 was a deserter, and had escaped through the 
 Union lines." 
 
 "Did you ever try to find him ?" questioned the 
 Colonel, now thoroughly interested. 
 
 "I did, but it was nearly six months later be- 
 fore I heard anything about him. An exchanged
 
 230 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 prisoner, I knew him because he was born down 
 my way, told me that Dennis was makin' a lot of 
 money as a bounty jumper, an' livin' in clover, an' 
 that he'd seen him in Baltimore." 
 
 "A bold rascal he must have been," interrupted 
 the Colonel. 
 
 "I took my boy and walked clear to Baltimore, 
 determined to make him support us." 
 
 "Did you see him there?" interposed Jebb. 
 
 "No, I found the provost-marshal had nabbed 
 him, and sent him to the front. Finally, I traced 
 out his regiment and wrote to his commander." 
 
 "And what was the reply?" queried Colonel 
 Franklin. 
 
 "Why, the officer answered that by the records 
 of the regiment, Dennis Foley was missin' after 
 the first skirmish, and that nothin' had been seen 
 of him since." 
 
 "Perhaps he was killed," ventured Jebb. 
 
 "No such good luck, I don't think. When the 
 war was over, I met some soldiers from his com- 
 pany, and they said they were sure he had skedad- 
 dled." 
 
 "And what then?" laconically asked the law- 
 yer. 
 
 "I've never heard another word about him, one
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 231 
 
 way or the other," said the widow, as she con- 
 cluded her story. 
 
 "Now, Mrs. Foley," began the Colonel, "there 
 are two ways open for you to be free, even though 
 your husband should be alive. Under the stat- 
 utes, three years of wilful desertion entitle you 
 to a divorce, or, if you have not heard from him 
 within five years, the law assumes a civil death, 
 and you may legally remarry." 
 
 "But I can't set my heart on marryin' one man 
 while the other may be alive an' kickin'. It seems 
 to me to be sinful," said the widow, shaking her 
 head. 
 
 "But these laws were made to cover just such 
 cases as yours. He may never turn up. He may 
 be dead. Even if he's alive, he may be married. 
 If you love Mr. Jebb, it is your duty to make him 
 happy by becoming his wife. And that duty is 
 stronger than any weak scruple you may have 
 about a man turning up who legally has forfeited 
 his claim as a husband." 
 
 "That may all be true, Colonel Franklin, but if 
 I marry and that rapscallion turns up, I'd never 
 forgive myself for bringin' disgrace into Mr. 
 Jebb's life." 
 
 "There is one thing more we can do," sug-
 
 232 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 gested the Colonel. "Suppose we put advertise- 
 ments in the leading newspapers of New York, 
 Chicago, Washington, Richmond and New Or- 
 leans, asking for information regarding your hus- 
 band." 
 
 "That's the very thing I intended to suggest," 
 said Jebb, brightening up. "If he's dead, some of 
 I his former comrades may know it and communi- 
 cate with us." 
 
 "But suppose we hear he's alive?" faltered the 
 widow. 
 
 "In that case all doubt would be dispelled, and 
 you would be in a position to act intelligently, 
 which seems almost impossible under present con- 
 ditions," explained the lawyer. 
 
 "And if we find out he's dead, we can be mar- 
 ried right off, can't we?" exclaimed Jebb impetu- 
 ously. 
 
 "I want mighty good proof, Mr. Jebb," laughed 
 Mrs. Foley. "I've been married once, and I know 
 men use different colored spectacles after they're 
 spliced than they do before." 
 
 "I'll prepare the advertisements," continued the 
 Colonel, "and we'll see what comes of it." 
 
 "Very well, and as soon as you hear anythin', 
 please let us know," concluded the widow, who
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 233 
 
 then arose, bade the lawyer good night, and left 
 in company with Jebb. 
 
 When the couple reached Mrs. Foley's house 
 they tarried a w r hile at the door, then she asked 
 invitingly : "Won't you come in and have a glass 
 of lemonade? It's pretty sultry to-night, and I 
 think you'll enjoy it." 
 
 Delighted at the invitation, he went in. 
 
 The little parlor bore evidence not only of fru- 
 gality, but of neatness and taste. The widow 
 served the lemonade, and with it some cake, and 
 the two chatted for a few minutes. 
 
 "Have you thought of all I said to you the 
 other day ?" began Jebb, recurring to the one sub- 
 ject ever present in his mind. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Jebb, I've thought of it a thousand 
 times. But don't talk to me like that again until 
 I'm free to listen." 
 
 "There can be no harm in speaking about it." 
 
 "But, Mr. Jebb, it's jest misery to hear you say 
 them lovin' things, ev'ry one of them entitled to 
 an answer. I would jest like to scream out what 
 my heart sez, but then I remember Dennis, and I 
 freeze up." 
 
 "But, surely, the day must come when you can 
 listen and speak."
 
 234 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Let us hope so. Suppose, when you want to 
 say somethin' real nice, you jest talk to Juno and 
 I'll answer for her, bein' that she ain't here," sug- 
 gested the widow. 
 
 "That's splendid," he said, "and reminds me, 
 I have a wayward thought written only yester- 
 day, and with Juno's kind permission, I'll read it." 
 
 "Do, Mr. Jebb. I've jest been hungry to hear 
 about Juno. I mean Juno has been hungry to 
 hear about Juno, for more than a week." 
 
 "I call this" 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, jest a minute," she broke in, "be- 
 fore you read your new piece of po'try to me I 
 want to ask you a promise." 
 
 "Ask me," he cried, delighted to have the op- 
 portunity to serve her. "Ask me, command me. 
 There's nothing I wouldn't do for you and do it 
 gladly." 
 
 "Mr. Jebb, what I ask is, whichever way this 
 thing comes out 'bout Dennis, even if the Lord 
 wills you and I must separate an' go our own 
 ways, I want to ask you," her voice lowered, 
 "that you don't let anybody else be Juno." 
 
 "Any one else be Juno !" he exclaimed passion- 
 ately, "any one else be Juno ! There's no one in 
 the world that could be Juno but you."
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 235 
 
 "Oh, no, Mr. Jebb," Mrs. Foley replied, "you'll 
 make me stuck up if you talk that way. I know 
 the world's world is very big and mine is very 
 small, but whatever happens let me be to you 
 Juno till I die." 
 
 "You shall be Juno till I die, till you die, and 
 till the Judgment Day." He spoke in all earnest- 
 ness. 
 
 "Excuse me, Mr. Jebb, for interrupting jest as 
 I always do. Juno's waiting ; hurry 'long." She 
 sat in an attitude of eager expectancy. 
 
 "I call this Juno's Confession," he said, "de- 
 scriptive, as it were, of certain incidents in our 
 lives lately enacted !" 
 
 " Oh my heart was full of anguish, 
 And a tear rolled down my cheek, 
 As I heard your sad confession, 
 Made on Tuesday of last week. 
 There was no balm in Gilead, 
 When I heard you sadly say 
 That you must not, dare not, listen 
 To my loving roundelay. 
 
 Juno, oh how I love thee, 
 
 Juno, oh how I love, 
 
 Juno, 
 
 You know, 
 
 To know 
 
 Juno, 
 
 Is like a dream from above.
 
 236 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 On that most eventful Tuesday, 
 Sandy showed what he could do, 
 With the help of little Gilbert, 
 I was saved and so were you. 
 From the dark and angry waters, 
 We were yanked without delay. 
 'Twould have been quite awkward for us 
 If the boys had kept away. 
 
 Juno, oh how I love you, 
 
 Juno, oh how I love, 
 
 Juno, 
 
 You know, 
 
 To know 
 
 Juno, 
 
 Is like a dream from above." 
 
 "I do declare, Mr. Jebb, you orter been one 
 of them reporters on the newspapers; you tell 
 a thing jest as it happens, and that's more'n they 
 do mostly. And while you're tellin' it, it's still 
 beautiful po'try, all the time. I could go on a 
 list'nin' to you till the cows come home. I can see 
 Sandy a-swimmin' for dear life and a-hollerin', 
 'Keep up, Mr. Jebb ; don't get scared, Mrs. Foley.' 
 When you were readin', it seemed like as if we 
 were in the water flounderin' round and swallerin' 
 a gallon ev'ry minute. It's a mystery how you 
 can tell it so clear and never forget it's po'try." 
 
 "Modesty forbids me speaking, Mrs. Foley, 
 but you know what Shakespeare says :
 
 JEBB AND SHAKESPEARE 237 
 
 " ' The form of things unknown the poet's pen 
 
 Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothingness 
 A local habitation and a name.' " 
 
 Jebb was floating on air because the one soul he 
 loved appreciated his poetic efforts. 
 
 "Shakespeare's all right, but I don't ketch his 
 pieces like I do yours. It beats me how you can 
 do it," the widow said wonderingly. "Nothin' 
 seems po'try in this world till you write about it. 
 Them words like 'roundelay' and 'well-a-day' are 
 mighty soothin' to a tired woman, and I jest say 
 them over and over at night, and drop to sleep 
 afore I know it, and that on the top of a hard 
 day's wash, too. It's simply wonderful." 
 
 He rose and clasped her hands. Her full ripe 
 lips and limpid eyes would have tempted an an- 
 chorite. To him she seemed the embodiment of 
 all that was beautiful. With a sudden, uncon- 
 trollable impulse, he pressed forward as if to kiss 
 her. 
 
 "No, no, Mr. Jebb," she cried, shielding her 
 face, "not yet, not yet. If I'm ever to be kissed 
 again it will be by you, but I can't now, you know 
 I can't. Please go now ; don't you see I'm blush- 
 ing?" and she laughed confusedly. 
 
 The widow stood at the door until his footsteps
 
 238 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 died in the distance. An hour later she was on 
 her knees, and let us hope that God in His wisdom 
 was listening to her prayer, so beautiful in its sim- 
 plicity, so pure in its sentiment.
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 JOHN 
 
 About three weeks after Colonel Franklin had 
 inserted the newspaper advertisements asking for 
 information regarding Dennis Foley, the law firm 
 of Franklin and Hayes received the following 
 letter : 
 
 Dere sur i red a pece in a Chicago Paper bout 
 a man whos name wuz denis foley who wuz a old 
 frend of mine denis foley who i node was born 
 down on the patuxin river in merrylan an tole me 
 so over and over agin he had a wife merry but he 
 called her molly an a sun named tomas which wuz 
 the only sun he had an he called him torn likewise 
 
 the only child he had as he had no gals and never 
 
 
 
 had none he tole me over an over agin that that 
 wuz so he went south an jined the army but didnt 
 like the grub an konkluded hed leeve wich he did 
 do the fust chance he got wich wuz one nite when 
 he wuz dooin pickit dooty he went up north after 
 he wuz south an jined the northern army as the 
 grub didnt sute him he left an kame west me bein 
 239
 
 240 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 with him an me an him traveld togethur it is a 
 sad story but i am sorry to say i kant say no more 
 bout him until i here from you an i am yourz 
 trooly J or John Hildey. 
 
 p s eny further infermashun will be cherfuly 
 tolld you to yure fase i am a pore man an need 
 muny mity bad you can rite me care of J or John 
 Hildey council bluffs ioway 
 
 Colonel Franklin sent for Jebb and the widow 
 at once, and read them the letter. 
 
 "This man's description tallies to a dot with 
 Dennis, and I'm sure he must know him," said 
 the widow. 
 
 "I will write immediately and ask him to come 
 on," said the Colonel. 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm more trouble than I'm worth," 
 half-heartedly faltered the widow. 
 
 "Not at all," said Mr. Jebb. "It may be pos- 
 sible to find out from this man whether Foley is 
 still alive, and thus clear up the doubt in your 
 mind." 
 
 It was agreed that Colonel Franklin should send 
 a letter to Hildey, requesting him to come to Pipe- 
 town. He did so and received this reply:
 
 JOHN HILDEY 241 
 
 dere sur yure letter i reseavd wich you want 
 to no bout denis foley my ole frend and komrad 
 ime a very por man an kant aford to do nuthin 
 fur nothin but if U will garante to pay me 2 hun- 
 derd dolors an me expences to yure plais an back 
 i will kum on an tel you all bout denis foley 
 what he tole me over an over agin an what I no 
 anser as before an yurze trooly 
 
 J or John Hildey 
 
 The lawyer answered with an offer to pay Hil- 
 dey's expenses on arrival, and two hundred dol- 
 lars for the information he claimed to have. The 
 return post brought the following: 
 
 i will kum on an tel you what I no bout denis 
 foley if U will sen me a ralerode ticket an muny 
 fer my bed an grub fer the time i luze an 2 hun- 
 derd dolors befor i start to tel U my story in yure 
 hous dont rite no more unles U mene biznes my 
 time is to valable to waist it ritin leterz fer nuthin 
 yurze trooley J or John Hildey adres as befor 
 
 The Colonel acted at pnce, and despatched the 
 following letters:
 
 242 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Messrs. Smith & Burnsy, Atty's at Law, Council 
 
 Bluffs, la.: 
 
 Gentlemen: There is a man residing in your 
 city named John Hildey, with whom we have 
 been in communication regarding certain facts 
 required by us. 
 
 It is necessary for him to come here and give 
 the information in person. We enclose draft for 
 One Hundred Dollars which we request that you 
 apply to the purchase of his railroad ticket and 
 necessary expenses for traveling. Kindly protect 
 us in this outlay to the best of your ability. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, 
 Franklin & Hayes, Attorneys at Law. 
 
 Mr. John Hildey, Council Bluffs, la. : 
 
 Dear Sir: Kindly call upon Messrs. Smith & 
 Burnsy, Attorneys at Law, of your city, who will 
 furnish you with transportation here and neces- 
 sary expenses for traveling. We request that you 
 start at once. We agree to pay you Two Hun- 
 dred Dollars for the information you say you can 
 give. Very sincerely, 
 
 Franklin & Hayes. 
 
 These letters called forth the following replies :
 
 JOHN HILDEY 243 
 
 Messrs. Franklin & Hayes, Attorneys at Law. 
 
 Dear Sirs : The party named in your inclosure 
 of the 28th came to our office to-day. We have 
 arranged for him to leave on the midnight train, 
 and have placed his ticket and traveling expenses 
 in the hands of the passenger agent of the road in 
 this city. We also gave him Ten Dollars as 
 pocket money, and hope he will turn up all right, 
 although we are positive he belongs to the genus, 
 "old bum," and therefore is a most unreliable 
 customer. He showed us a letter in which you 
 agreed to pay him Two Hundred Dollars for cer- 
 tain information he possesses, and insisted before 
 he would consent to go, that we give him a letter 
 indorsing you as a thoroughly reliable firm, 
 which we did. Very truly, 
 
 Smith & Burnsy. 
 
 P. S. In addition, we took upon ourselves the 
 purchase of a suit of clothes for him, as he was 
 most unpresentable when he came to our office. 
 
 mister franklin an hayes esq dere surs i am 
 kuming on the ralerode an hope U will have the 
 2 hundred dolors reddy when i git thair. J or 
 John Hildey council bluffs ioway
 
 244 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Five days later the office boy announced to 
 Colonel Franklin a man named Hildey. 
 
 "Show him in," said the lawyer. 
 
 An unkempt specimen of humanity slouched 
 into the office and stood hat in hand, waiting to 
 be addressed. 
 
 "You are John Hildey, of Council Bluffs?" 
 
 "That's me name, Guv'ner, an' I got yer letters 
 regardin' me fr'en' Dennis Foley, an' this 'ere one 
 from the lawyers in my town. It sez yer respon- 
 sible to cough up the two hundred bones yer 
 promised." 
 
 "It's all right, Hildey ; you'll get your two hun- 
 dred at the proper time. But sit down; I want 
 to talk to you, and expect you to answer me truth- 
 fully." 
 
 "How about the rhino?" inquired the visitor. 
 
 "Don't worry about that, I've given my word 
 that I'll pay you for certain information, and I'll 
 do it; but first I must ask you a few questions." 
 
 "That's all right, Guv'ner, fer you ; but I gits 
 lock-jawed when I don't see de tin," blared out 
 the bum. 
 
 "The one question, the all important one; the 
 one we brought you here for is, whether Foley is 
 alive or dead."
 
 JOHN HIUDEY 245 
 
 "I'm no foo-foo, yer don't s'pose I'se goin' 
 ter tell yer that, afore I sees the color of yer 
 money, do yer?" rasped the stranger. 
 
 "No, nor do I intend to ask that question before 
 I give you the money. What I want to know, for 
 the present, is more about Dennis Foley. First 
 of all, I must be absolutely sure that the man 
 whom you knew as Dennis Foley is the one we 
 are seeking." 
 
 "Fire away, Guv'ner, spout yer questions. I've 
 got my ear to the groun'." 
 
 "Tell me anything you know about Dennis 
 Foley, beyond what you stated in your letter." 
 
 "Well, Guv'ner, I fust met Dennis up in Phila- 
 delphy. He jest vamoosed from de Confed'rit 
 Army an' skipped from Ohio, where he worked 
 de bounty racket until it got too hot fer him. 
 Then he landed in Philadelphy wher' I met him 
 an' we gits to be great fr'en's. We kind er got 
 together in a minit, fer we seemed borned fer 
 each other; our dispositions was so tender- 
 hearted. We worked up a little plan to make 
 some money easy. I played bounty broker an' 
 he played bounty jumper, an' we jest raked in 
 the rhino an' had a great time. He must 'a' 
 enlisted in ev'ry city from Baltimore to Boston
 
 246 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 an' back, afore the provost-marshal grabbed him 
 an' sent him to the front, an' me a-goin' wid him 
 out er fr'endly feelin's. 
 
 "Our reg'ment laid round waitin' to git into a 
 scrimmage, an' one night when nobody wuz 
 lookin' an' we wuz doin' pickit duty, we seen the 
 Johnny Rebs a-crawlin' up, an' we makes a bee 
 line fer nowher' in partic'lar. 'Twuz a mighty 
 good thing fer us that we did, fer them Johnny 
 Rebs got clean up an' knocked the spots out er 
 our reg'ment." 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you ran away 
 without sounding an alarm, and arousing your 
 comrades?" asked Colonel Franklin, shocked at 
 this avowal of cowardice. 
 
 "We jes' got 'way, that's all, an' let the other 
 fellers fin' out the Johnny Rebs wuz comin'," vol- 
 unteered the fellow, unabashed. "Then me an' 
 Dennis traveled all over the country, many a night 
 hidin' in a haystack, or some other cozy comer. 
 He tol' me 'bout his ol' home on the Pawtuxin 
 River ; 'bout his wife who wuz pretty, an' that she 
 had blue eyes an' black hair, an' wuz put up like the 
 picture of the Goddess o' Liberty, an' that he had 
 a boy by the name of Tom ; that his wife's maiden 
 name wuz Molly Madigan, an' she wuz born in
 
 JOHN HILDEY 247 
 
 Maryland, an' that he had run away with her 
 when she wuz still goin' to school, an' the boy 
 wuz born before she wuz eighteen." 
 
 "There seems to be no doubt that this Dennis 
 Foley you describe is the very man we want. Now 
 if you will come here to-night at eight o'clock, I 
 will have the money for you; also the two per- 
 sons who are most interested in this matter." 
 
 "All right, Guv'ner, I'll be here on time," 
 and the tramp shuffled out. 
 
 The lawyer immediately communicated with 
 Mr. Jebb and Mrs. Foley, and at the hour named 
 the four were seated in his office. Colonel Frank- 
 lin spoke first. 
 
 "Mrs. Foley, this man, John Hildey, I am con- 
 fident, knows, or did know, your husband thor- 
 oughly. His story coincides with yours, and I 
 now propose to ask him certain questions." Then 
 turning to the vagabond, he asked : 
 
 "Do you know, at this time, whether Dennis 
 Foley is dead or alive?" 
 
 "I cert'nly do, Guv'ner, an' when I sees the coin 
 I'll tell yer." 
 
 "And you'll give all further knowledge you 
 possess on this subject?" 
 
 "That's it, Boss; I'se got all the knowledge
 
 248 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 right here in my coco'nut, an' jest as soon as I 
 sees the rhino, I'll open my potato trap an' give 
 it to yer, gospel truth." 
 
 The Colonel counted out two hundred dollars, 
 and handed them to Hildey. 
 
 "As a Notary Public, Hildey, I ask that you be 
 sworn. Do you, John Hildey, swear that what 
 you say is the truth, the whole truth and nothing 
 but the truth, so help you, God?" 
 
 "I do," said the fellow with mock solemnity. 
 
 "Do you or did you know Dennis Foley of 
 Maryland, born near Nottingham on the Patux- 
 ant River?" 
 
 "I know'd him well." 
 
 "Were you in the Northern Army together?" 
 
 "We wuz that." 
 
 "Did you leave the Army about the same 
 time?" 
 
 "We cert'nly did do that." 
 
 "Did you travel together?" 
 
 "We wuz as close as a postage stamp on a 
 watermelon." 
 
 "Tell us what you know of Dennis Foley, from 
 the day you left the Army until the present 
 time." Franklin sat back in the chair, awaiting 
 the narrative.
 
 JOHN HILDEY 249 
 
 "Well, sir, me an' Dennis concluded to travel 
 West 'Go West, young man, go West' sez 
 Horace Greeley, so we goes West. We \vuz 
 havin' a mighty fine time seein' the sights, when 
 one night it was snowin' an' jest as cold as char- 
 ity, an' poor Dennis got chilled a-ridin' on a slow 
 freight. Pneumoney sets in, an' I nussed an' 
 nussed him but he didn't git no better, an' in a 
 little while he drooped an' calls me to him, an 
 sez: 'Pard, 'tain't fer me to stay here longer in 
 this vale of tears ; 'tain't fer me to see my Molly, 
 or my little chil', which we calls Tom, no more. 
 Pard, cut off a lock o' me hair, an' if yer ever sees 
 my Molly, give it to her with my love.' An' then 
 he falls back a-moanin', sayin', 'Molly, Mary, 
 Tom, I'm a-comin, I'm a-comin'/ an' then he wuz 
 dead an' dun fer." The old bum wiped the tears 
 from his eyes, and added, "He wuz me only fren'." 
 
 He brought from his inside pocket a little 
 leather bag, which he opened and handed to Mrs. 
 Foley. It contained a lock of hair. 
 
 She looked at it intently, the tears welling in 
 her eyes, and with great emotion, she said : 
 
 "God knows, that's his hair. I could tell it 
 among a thousand. The Lord rest his soul, and 
 may he sleep in peace."
 
 250 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Amen!" religiously whispered the old vaga- 
 bond. 
 
 "You were with him when he died?" asked 
 Jebb softly, moved by the stranger's touching 
 story. 
 
 "A holdin' him in me arms," said Hildey, ap- 
 parently choking with emotion. 
 
 "How long since he died?" asked the Colonel 
 gravely. 
 
 "Must be about two years, now," said the 
 tramp, tapping his forehead. 
 
 "Where is he buried?" 
 
 "Please don't ask me that." 
 
 "Why not?" said Franklin, wondering. 
 
 Hildey leaned over, looked theatrically into 
 the faces of the listening group, and said in a 
 hoarse whisper : 
 
 "Grave robbers! Night doctors!" 
 
 "Horrible!" they all cried, and the widow 
 buried her face in her hands. For a moment 
 there was silence, which Colonel Franklin broke 
 with the words : 
 
 "I will put your statements into legal form, and 
 have you swear to them. Then, to-morrow, I 
 want you to go with me and see the Judge of the 
 Orphans' Court."
 
 JOHN HIU>EY 251 
 
 "All right, Guv'ner; in course yer pays me fer 
 extry work ?" said the visitor. 
 
 "Yes, I'll pay you for any service that you ren- 
 der." 
 
 Jebb and the widow talked long and earnestly 
 with Hildey, and Mrs. Foley questioned him over 
 and over again. Shortly after, she and the grocer 
 arrived at her little home, and both went in. 
 
 "Mr. Jebb," said she, "there ain't no doubt 
 from what we have heard to-night that Dennis 
 has gone to his long home. He was away from 
 me so much, from almost after Tom was born, 
 that he has left nothin' but the recollection of a 
 very unhappy life. I have always felt that divorce 
 was wrong, and have allowed, as you makes your 
 bed in the beginnin', so you lays in it to the bitter 
 end. If he was alive an' kickin', I wouldn't touch 
 him with a forty-foot pole, but, honest Injun, I 
 don't believe you could have ever persuaded me 
 to marry you, if we hadn't found out Dennis was 
 dead. Mr. Jebb, you said a lot o' cheerin' and 
 lovin' words to me, and the world seems much 
 brighter since you started to sayin' 'em, now I'm 
 goin' to say somethin' to you. 
 
 "When I first knew you, I was pleased when 
 you sat next to me in the hoss-cars goin' up to
 
 252 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 market, but now I'd be proud to sit by your side 
 on a curbstone and not a-goin' nowhere. You 
 love me, and I know it, and I ain't goin' to pull 
 away from you now, and I am yours for the 
 askin'." 
 
 She leaned forward, her wonderful eyes ten- 
 der in their gaze, her cheeks aglow and warm in 
 the strength of her simple life, and thereupon 
 they became engaged. 
 
 When John Hildey left the Colonel's office he 
 went direct to his lodgings near the railroad sta- 
 tion and started to write a letter. After a long 
 struggle it was finished, and the envelop bore 
 this address: 
 Mr. Dennis Foley, Esq., 
 
 To be called fer, 
 Post Orfise, 
 
 Council Bluffs.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 
 
 Dennis Foley was a self-elected Ishmaelite, his 
 hand against every man and every man's hand 
 against him. He was of the lowest stratum of 
 that peripatetic community that sprang into ex- 
 istence after the Civil War, now known as 
 "tramps." In the cases of some of these aimless 
 wanderers there may have been extenuating cir- 
 cumstances, for perhaps, through no fault of their 
 own, they found themselves out of tune with 
 the new conditions. But Foley was a vagabond, 
 bummer and thief from choice. 
 
 The advertisement asking for information con- 
 cerning himself came to his notice, as, in company 
 with Hildey, he was working Council Bluffs in 
 the many ways known to the gentry of the road. 
 The scheme of answering the advertisement and 
 pf having Hildey go to Pipetown to announce 
 him as dead was of Foley's own concoction. 
 
 Hildey had been gone fully two weeks, and 
 Foley was becoming impatient for news from 
 253
 
 254 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 him. From morning till night he haunted the 
 post-office, until at last a letter was handed him 
 and with it he hurried back to the miserable shanty 
 where he slept. With feverish eagerness he tore 
 open the missive which read thus : 
 
 my old pard as i never brakes no promis i rites 
 to tel yer all about it when i get hear i sees the 
 bloke as rote me the letters he is a lawer an 
 started to ax me all bout U he sez bekauze he 
 wanted to be shure U waz the man i gave him 
 yer histry jest as U tole me without no hitch an 
 it tallied with his to a t he had yure wife an a 
 galoot they call jeb to kum to his orfise an with 
 the tearze kumin to my eyze i sez pore denis foley 
 is ded these 2 yerze jest as U tole me to say an 
 when I gave them the lock of yure hair yure gal 
 jest cride an sed god res his sole an may he sleep 
 in pece i axed them why they wanted to no an i 
 foun out the groser wants ter mary yure wife 
 shes a hummer jest as U sed she wuz an as purty 
 as a painted post yer wife wuz willin to mary 
 him provided she new U wuz ded so there goin 
 to git maryd kauze yer ded but she wouldener if 
 U werent ded an she tole me that hersef over an 
 over agin i seed yer boy torn hes jest like you
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 255 
 
 as 2, pees in a pod if yer wasnt ded i wood luv 
 to tel him so. yure old fren 
 
 John 399 N. J. ave this place. 
 
 Foley looked through the envelop carefully, 
 shook it, swore a chain of linked blasphemy, and 
 then exclaimed : 
 
 "Burn his soul; he don't say nuthin' 'bout the 
 rhino. 'Tain't no use, yer can't trust nobody. 
 I'll jest send him a scorcher an' if he don't come 
 back an' pony up my share, I'll go on an' break his 
 infernal neck, if I has to swing fer it." 
 
 Several letters passed between the scamps, but 
 in his replies Hildey was careful to say nothing 
 of the money, and Foley became desperate. He 
 determined to go to Pipetown. 
 
 About a month after Hildey's interview with 
 Colonel Franklin, Dennis Foley, half-drunk, and 
 quarrelsome, confronted his chum at his miser- 
 able lodging house. 
 
 "Where's me money?" he shouted, trying to 
 grasp his partner by the throat. 
 
 Hildey eluded him, and began to talk in a 
 soothing tone. 
 
 "Set down, pard; don't git excited. Let me 
 tell yer all 'bout it, but afore we go ahead, take a
 
 256 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 drink of good old buck-juice," and he handed 
 a long black bottle to Foley, who drank deeply. 
 
 "Yer a nice pardner," sneered Foley. "I puts 
 yer on the track to make a honest penny, an' yer 
 goes back on me an' don't divvy as yer prter 
 have." 
 
 "I wuz a-goin' to bring yer all the rhino, Den- 
 nis, s'elp me bob, I wuz, if I hadn't had a dream. 
 1 dreams three times han' runnin' I wuz a-ridin' 
 on a golden chariot, with beautiful white horses 
 an' the prettiest tails yer ever seen." 
 
 "Well, what's that got to do with it?" said the 
 other. 
 
 "Nuthin', as I kin see now, but a lot jest then. 
 I wuz on my way to the railroad station to come 
 out ter yer with the tin an' I runs up ag'inst a 
 policy shop, an' right afore my eyes comes the 
 dream ag'in, an' so I sez, why not bring Dennis 
 twict as much ? I goes in an' plays a hunderd on 
 'horses' an' loses ; then I plays t'other hunderd on 
 'gigs,' an' durned if I didn't lose ag'in, an' then 
 I wuz broke. I can't get it through my coco'nut, 
 no way I looks at it, 'bout that 'ere dream. It 
 wuz horses an' chariots, an' it means yer can't 
 lose if yer plays 'em right. But when I tells the 
 policy man 'bout it, he sed mebbe it was a steam
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 257 
 
 engine I dreamed an' no numbers didn't go with 
 that." 
 
 "Yer a liar, an' yer knows it; yer blow'd the 
 money in on whisky, an' yer ain't man 'nuff to 
 say so. I've got half a mind to break yer bloody 
 neck," and Foley arose, as if he meant mischief. 
 
 "Don't do nuthin' brash, Dennis, 'cause yer'd be 
 awful sorry if yer hurt yer old pard," pleaded 
 Hildey. 
 
 "What yer doin' now to keep a-goin' ?" queried 
 the other, quieting down for the moment. 
 
 "As far as the galoot an' the lawyer is con- 
 cerned, I've milked 'em dry, but I'm doin' a little 
 in the sneak line, an' with your help, we may pick 
 up some good things round here in the houses. 
 'Tain't no use tryin' the German count driven 
 
 from home, or the Irish lord what can't go back, 
 
 i 
 'cause the peelers grab yer here an' run yer in the 
 
 chain-gang, even if yer sed yer wuz the Czar of 
 Rooshy. I've seen some invitin' houses which 
 don't have no padlocks on their back doors, where 
 we might do some bizness." 
 
 "But have yer seen this man what wants ter 
 marry my gal, or the lawyer what wrote, sence yer 
 to!' 'em I wuz dead?" 
 
 "That feller what's goin' ter splice with yer
 
 258 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 gal wuz mighty 'commodatin' at first, gives me 
 lots o' grub an' knickknacks, an' treats me 
 mighty white, but I comes into his place full as a 
 goat four nights runnin', an' one night when he 
 wuzn't lookin' I tho't I'd tap his till fer a bundle 
 of shin plasters, an' while he didn't have me pulled 
 in, he invited me to stay 'way." 
 
 "How 'bout the lawyer, that snoozer Frank- 
 lin?" 
 
 "He's a heartless feller. He's got no 'preciation 
 of a hard-workin' citizen like me. After I had 
 got some money outer him, five or six times, he 
 seemed to drap to me, an' last week when I went 
 to his office, he booted me out. Jest think of it, 
 booted me clean out to the gutter, and me a gen- 
 tleman, born an' bred!" The rum-soaked loafer 
 spoke in an aggrieved tone^ and shook his arm 
 wildly. 
 
 "I think yer durn foolishness has sp'ilt the 
 whole game fer me, an' I ain't got a red out o' it 
 yet," angrily cried Foley. 
 
 "They don't know nuthin' 'bout you, pard, but 
 they're on ter me. Whatever yer do, I gives yer a 
 clean start, fer ye're dead up to this time, as fur as 
 they knows. My influence round here don't 
 'mount to much, jest now. .Why, that bloke
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 259 
 
 Franklin sez to me, when I wuz sneakin' in his 
 hallway after dark an' near scared the women 
 out'n their wits, he sez, a-grabbin' me by the col- 
 lar, an' whackin' me as if I wuz the bull drum in 
 a nigger band 'If I ever sees yer aroun' here 
 ag'in, I'll have yer sent up!' an' he chases me 
 clean round the corner, a-kickin' me, an' me a gen- 
 tleman born an' bred." 
 
 "You a gentleman born an' bred! If yer had a 
 know'd yer bizness we might 'a' worked this 
 thing right along, a-sayin' I wuz dead one month 
 an' alive the next, but yer never will be nobody," 
 and Foley drank long at the bottle. 
 
 " 'Tain't too late, yer old gal ain't taken on 
 ag'in yet." 
 
 "When does she git married ?" asked Foley. 
 
 "Tom tol* me, yer son Tom, he's a fine boy, 
 so much like his dad ! Yer orter git acquaint'd to 
 him, Dennis, he's one of us, jest as nacherel as 
 if he had been bro't up to it," Hildey mumbled 
 garrulously. 
 
 "Durn the boy! When does the old gal git 
 hitched?" 
 
 "That's what I wuz comin' to; Tom sez the 
 weddin' takes place on Christmas Eve." 
 
 "Christmas Eve?" mused Foley. "It wuz
 
 260 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Christmas Eve when I skedaddled; lemme see," 
 he took another drink from the bottle, and 
 looked into space. "Yes, jest five years gone. 
 I remember it as if it wuz yesterday. I got 
 a lot o' money from Colonel Glenn to shoul- 
 der a musket fer Jeff Davis, an' I had a row 
 with Molly 'cause the rent wuz due, an' the 
 groc'ry bill wuz due, an' her shoes were all 
 worn out, an' she sed she wuz workin' like a 
 nigger, an' tol' me that I wuz a whisky sot. 
 I tol' her I didn't 'low no woman to talk to me 
 that 'ere way, an' I bangs her in the eye, an' starts 
 up stairs to git my duds. When I comes down, I 
 sees her a-trimmin' a Christmas tree fer the boy. 
 I sneaks out, 'cause if I hadn't I'd 'a' banged her 
 other eye, an' as I passes the winder she was 
 kneelin' down with her arms aroun' Tom's neck, 
 an' a-sayin' prayers. I almos' busted, a-tryin' to 
 keep from laffin', fer while she was a-cryin' an' 
 a-prayin', Tom wuz jest a-yankin' things off'n 
 that tree, an' she never noticed it. It wuz funny, 
 an' I laffed over it many times, thinkin' how Tom 
 fooled her." 
 
 "That's Tom all over," said Hildey. "He's 
 goin' to be a great man, an' orter git purty high 
 in the world," and with drunken familiarity, he
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 261 
 
 slapped the proud father's back playfully but with 
 a heavy hand. 
 
 "Not too high, pard; not too high," said the 
 other, now drunk. 
 
 "No, not too high; not as high as a gallus." 
 
 "What d'yer mean by gallus?" said Foley, 
 grasping the neck of the bottle menacingly. 
 
 "I was jest a-thinkin' of somethin' high, and 
 gallus seemed to be nacherel." 
 
 "What does Tom say about this shameful mar- 
 riage?" queried the other. 
 
 "He's flabbergasted. He sez 'tain't decent, an* 
 he's willin' to swear on a stack o' Bibles a mile 
 high that his mother has been talked into it by 
 that bloke Franklin. Drat him fer meddlin' in 
 other people's affairs, an' durn him fer kickin' me, 
 yes, kickin' me three times, d'yer hear, me, 
 a gentleman born and bred." 
 
 "Did yer tell Tom I wuz erlive?" 
 
 "No, I wouldn't tell him that; he might blab 
 it, an' I'd have to skip mighty fast. But he sez 
 to me, t'other night wouldn't it be funny if my 
 dad'd just turn up an' spile the ol' woman's scan- 
 dalous conduct." 
 
 "But I can't turn up. I'd be nabbed fer a de- 
 serter."
 
 262 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Bosh ! The war's over, an' they ain't botherin' 
 much jest now 'bout deserters, yer kin bet. If 
 yer show yerself, an' worst comes to worst, yer 
 could cook up a yarn 'bout havin' been tak'n pris'- 
 ner by the rebs an' dump'd down in Cuby, or some 
 other place, an' this is the fust chance yer had to 
 git back." 
 
 "Did you think o' that?" questioned Foley. 
 
 "Naw, that's Tom's idee. He sez a hundred 
 times, 'I jest wisht the ol' man wuzn't ded.' 'But 
 he is,' I sez; 'ded as a door nail.' He sez 'I wisht 
 dad wuz erlive, if only for a long 'nuff time to 
 come on an' break up mum's weddin' ;' but I tells 
 him, if yer wuz alive, yer wouldn't dast show yer- 
 self as yer ran away from the Army. An' then he 
 sez, 'Why, if dad hadn't turn'd up his toes, and 
 he show'd up here now, he could cook up a yarn 
 that half of the galoots roun' here would think 
 wuz true,' an' Tom sed he wouldn't be surprised 
 if the gov'nment would give yer a pension, and 
 Congress vote yer some thanks fer yer devotion 
 to the Union. Tom sez it's a blamed shame yer 
 kick'd the bucket, when yer chances look sq 
 good." 
 
 "That Tom mus' be a cute boy, an' if they ever 
 gits the nippers on me, I'll use Tom's idee, an'
 
 WHITE HORSES AND CHARIOTS 263 
 
 make 'em weep when I tells how I fit an' bled for 
 my country," and he drained the last drop from 
 his glass. 
 
 " Was Tom sorry I wuz dead ?" 
 
 "He wuz, fer truth," said the other, going over 
 to his bed and extracting from between the mat- 
 tresses another long-necked bottle. Pulling the 
 cork he took a long swig and handed the bottle 
 to Poley. 
 
 "That's mighty good whisky, beau ; wher'd yer 
 git it ?" asked Dennis, smacking his lips. 
 
 "Me an' Tom's been workin' the little stores 
 round here, an' we ain't los' no time." 
 
 "How does yer do it?" 
 
 "Me an' Tom goes into a store with a tin can 
 an' asks fer a pint o' 'lasses, an' I goes down with 
 the ol' woman into the cellar to help draw it, an* 
 yer know how mighty slow 'lasses is. Tom picks 
 up anythin' handy, like a bottle of whisky, or ef 
 the money drawer ain't locked, a dollar or two, 
 but we makes the pickin's so light that we works 
 the same store three times a week." 
 
 "That's all right, pard; so jest fork over my 
 share o' the swag." 
 
 "Dennis, old pard, as I'm a gentleman born 
 an' bred, I ain't got more'n a dollar to my soul.
 
 264 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 I wuz so stuck on them white horses an' chariots, 
 that I've played policy ev'ry day, hopin' to git me 
 money back. But if yer lets up on me, I'll tote 
 fair from this time out." 
 
 "I'll see that yer do. If yer do me dirt ag'in, 
 I'll kill yer. Here I am, an' I ain't in nuthin' fer 
 bein' dead. 'Cordin' to my countin', I ain't dead, 
 an' I ain't dead fer nuthin', an' they'll find it out, 
 curse 'em !" Foley rolled over on the bed, clutch- 
 ing the bottle tightly, and soon fell asleep. 
 
 Hildey took a long drink, and mumblingly 
 said: "That bloke wouldn't help a pore man, 
 curse him! an' kicked me out inter the gutter, 
 a gentleman born and bred, an' so I sez curse 
 him!" The sot crept over against his partner, 
 and almost immediately began to snore.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 NOCATCHTANK CLUB 
 
 The season for shooting ortolan and other 
 marsh-birds was drawing to a close in Pipetown. 
 The reed-bird had begun his journey southward, 
 and the monotonous "click-click" of this ornitho- 
 logical glutton was scarcely heard in the fields. 
 
 Ye, who live only to eat, ponder while ye may ! 
 Bow ye not to the gastronomic idol, hanker ye 
 not for the delights of the festal board! Verily, 
 I say, ponder in fear and trembling as ye view 
 the speedy degeneration of this foolish bird, vic- 
 tim of his own voracious appetite ! 
 
 In the glad springtime, what song more joy- 
 ous, what voice more musical than the bobolink's ? 
 
 Love is in his heart; love tones gush from his 
 melodic throat. For him the day is fair, the sun 
 is bright, and all the world is wooing. 
 
 Darting here and there among the buds that 
 blossom in the orchard, he plays at hide-and-seek 
 with his mate, happy from dawn to dusk. He 
 
 builds his nest in sweetest meadow-land, and rears 
 265
 
 266 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 his young in great joy to the strains of ec- 
 static trills. 
 
 But soon there comes a change. 
 
 His song is hushed, his once happy home de- 
 serted. 
 
 Neighbors begin to whisper. 
 
 Mrs. Blue Jay, in confidence, tells Mrs. Catbird, 
 who informs Mrs. Robin, who in turn asserts to 
 little Miss Wren, that something is wrong with 
 the Bobolinks. 
 
 They have reason for this gossip. The once 
 well-groomed bird allows its black and buff plum- 
 age to grow seedy, and when finally the feathery 
 Mrs. Grundy puts him outside the pale of polite 
 society, he vanishes in a night. Southward he 
 flies, with the one desire paramount, to eat. 
 
 His garb has become an ashen yellow, and in 
 his downward path he changes his name, and now 
 is known as the Reed-bird. His beauty and sym- 
 metry of form have disappeared, and in their 
 place is a decided aldermanic embonpoint. 
 
 At the coming of autumn's first chill winds, he 
 departs hastily for the fields of Carolina, and, 
 from daylight to dark, gorges himself, and, wholly 
 forgetful of ancestral pride, assumes another 
 name, the Rice Bunting.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 267 
 
 Under this alias his voracity leads him still 
 farther southward, until he reaches the Isles of 
 the Summer Sea, a lazy lump of yellow fat. 
 
 Now he is the Butter Bird, sans song, sans 
 sentiment, sans plumage, sans everything, but 
 mighty fine broiled on toast. 
 
 During the season's shooting Gilbert was fre- 
 quently Sandy's companion, and had acquired 
 considerable skill and accuracy as a wing shot. 
 This was attested by the liberal number of sora or 
 ortolan, reed, sprig-tails and blue-wings he had 
 brought home. It was an unwritten law among 
 Pipetown hunters never to shoot at a sitting bird, 
 and Gilbert was ever scrupulously faithful to this 
 tradition. 
 
 Sandy, Leander, Dink and Gilbert were to 
 meet by appointment at the Jedge's to discuss a 
 hunting and camping trip. Sandy arrived first, 
 and Gilbert's shooting became the source of con- 
 versation. 
 
 "He's got a nacheral eye," said Sandy to the 
 Jedge, describing some particularly fine shot Gil- 
 bert had made. "When he hits, he does it jest as 
 clean as a hound's tooth. 'Tain't many cripplers 
 with him ; jest close shootin', an' I enjoys a-show- 
 
 in' him how." 
 
 I
 
 268 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I'm mighty glad to hear he ain't one er them 
 fellers as closes his eyes and let's the Lor' direct 
 the shot," said the old man approvingly. 
 
 "No sirree, Jedge, if the birds carried bells, 
 he'd ring 'em lots o' times, he shoots so close." 
 
 Gilbert, Leander and Dink finally came, and the 
 pleasure trip was discussed. 
 
 "I should say," remarked the Jedge, " 'bout 
 the best time to camp out would be Thanksgivin' 
 week. The river orter be loaded down with can- 
 vas-backs, red-heads, mallards, an' all sorts of 
 trash ducks. Uplands an' yeller shanks are apt 
 to be plentiful, an' there ain't no tellin' but what 
 we might be able to pick up a good many snipe 
 an' woodcock. An' fer a change, it 'pears to me, 
 judgin' by the dry summer, there orter be lots 
 an' lots o' partridges in the stubble, an' cotton- 
 tails so thick that they'll trip yer up." 
 
 "Well, Jedge, the time is all right, but we 
 don't want no big gang of fellers goin' 'long, 
 d'ye think?" inquired Sandy. 
 
 "Ye're right, a big gang's always in the way. 
 A party orter be congenial, leastwise to them- 
 selves, to say nuthin' o' common politeness to 
 each other," said the Jedge in his most conclusive 
 manner.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 269 
 
 "I've made a list; see how this will suit," spoke 
 Gilbert. 
 
 Captain and Executive Officer, .... The Jedge. 
 Adjutant and Flag Lieutenant, .... Sandy Goggles. 
 Sergeant Major and Master at Arms, . Leander Daindridge. 
 First Private and Able Seaman, . . . Dink Dabney. 
 Second Private and Ordinary Seaman, Gilbert Franklin. 
 Striker and Mess Attendant, Matt Johnson. 
 
 "That strikes me jest about right, with one 
 'ception," said the Jedge. "I 'low it orter read 
 this 'ere way Second Private and Walkin' Dic- 
 tionary, Gilbert Franklin. Yer see, Gil, we might 
 need yer book-1'arnin' to straighten things out, 
 an' 'twouldn't be fair to the rest to call on a sec- 
 ond private 'less he wuz 'titled to that 'ere posi- 
 tion." 
 
 The Jedge resumed his seat and pipe, amid ap- 
 plause. 
 
 "I votes with the Jedge's 'mendment that it 
 passes," said Dink. The resolution was unan- 
 imously carried. 
 
 "Now, Jedge, what must we take along?" 
 asked Gilbert. 
 
 "As a starter, one Sibley tent and one bell tent." 
 
 "I'll get those," said Leander. "I am sure my 
 uncle, the Commodore, will lend them to me from 
 the Government stores at the Yard."
 
 270 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Two lanterns," continued the Jedge. 
 
 "I'll get those, too," added Leander. 
 
 "Groceries an' sich, to last a week," went on 
 the old man. 
 
 "My father promised to buy all the provisions 
 we'll need, so I'll take care of that item," said 
 Gilbert. 
 
 "Fishin' tackle, decoys, an' skiffs will be sup- 
 plied by Yours Truly," this from the Jedge. 
 
 "Me an' Dink'll git the tin plates fer to eat 
 out'er, an' a ax an' hatchets, so don't worry 'bout 
 them," assured Sandy. 
 
 "Everybody brings his own gun, ammernition, 
 knife, knapsack, blankets and rubber boots, an' 
 I'll bring fryin' pan, chowder-pot, coffee-pot, an' 
 skillets, so that orter be 'nuff," said the old hunter. 
 
 "If there's anything we've forgotten, and any 
 one happens to think of it, he'd better jot it down 
 and bring it up at the next meeting," added Gil- 
 bert. 
 
 "Now, remember boys," spoke the Jedge, "we 
 start at four o'clock A. M. afore light, from Jebb's 
 Corner, Monday mornin' of Thanksgivin' week, 
 rain or shine, in this year of our Lord." 
 
 "Hold on, just a minute!" said Gilbert, stand- 
 ing in the center of a little group. "My father
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 271 
 
 says, before the white man discovered this coun- 
 try there was a powerful tribe of Indians that 
 lived on the banks of our river. From Pencote 
 up and beyond Oyster Shell Landing, the shores 
 of the stream were dotted with the wigwams of 
 the red men. They hunted and fished and did 
 everything before our ancestors drove them 
 away. Let's call ourselves after them: the 'No- 
 catchtank Hunting and Fishing Club'." 
 
 "I seconds that with 'mendments, which is 
 this," said the Jedge ; "the title to be the Nocatch- 
 tank Huntin' an' Fishin' Club, Gilbert Franklin, 
 Little Admiral, an' the other officers to remain 
 as they wuz. It is already carried 'nanermous an' 
 the meetin' is adjourned." 
 
 The days following were busy ones for the 
 boys. Everything needed for the trip was car- 
 ried to the boat-house and stored. 
 
 On the specified day the little party started, ac- 
 companied by the Jedge's two setters, Sandy's 
 water spaniel, and Matt's 'possum dog, Blinkey. 
 The Jedge, Leander, Dink, Matt and the dogs 
 went in the Lillian. Sandy and Gilbert paddled 
 up in the skiff Dolly. They reached their destina- 
 tion, Licking Banks, by eight, and the boys imme- 
 diately began preparations for camping. Poles
 
 272 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 were cut on which to hang the coffee-pot, and 
 soon a fire was burning brightly. 
 
 "Boys, I hereby elects myself cook o' the occa- 
 sion, an' will prepare yer one o' my five-minute 
 breakfasts, celebrated from here to Jericho. 
 Ev'rybody stir yer stumps! Gimme the eggs, 
 Matt; grease the pan, Dink; slice the bolony, 
 Sandy ; chop off a bit of bacon, Leander ; pour in 
 the milk, Gil, while I hold the pan over the coals." 
 The Jedge lapsed into silence and watched the 
 contents of the pan begin to cook. 
 
 The rest of the party were interested lookers- 
 on and the air was soon filled with appetizing 
 odors. 
 
 "Whoa," said the Jedge, taking a fork, and 
 tasting the dish as it sizzled. "It's all right, 
 boys, O K, copper-bottomed, an' a dish fit fer 
 Apolly Belvidery, or enny other gentleman. Take 
 that coffee off, Sandy, she's b'ilin' over. The rest 
 of yer boys git plates an' things, an' bread an' but- 
 ter. In one minit we eats." 
 
 And eat they did. 
 
 After the meal the tents were carried ashore 
 and erected beneath the bluffs. In a couple of 
 hours everything was ship-shape, and the Jedge 
 made his assignments for the day.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 273 
 
 Sandy and Gilbert went to hunt for grass-ducks 
 at Piney Run in the Dolly. With them was 
 Prince, the water spaniel. After they had pad- 
 dled up stream for some distance, Gilbert whis- 
 pered suddenly, "Mark left." 
 
 Far ahead and to the north were flying a 
 flock of mallards. The boys turned their skiff 
 into a tiny creek, and watched with breathless in- 
 terest. The big, strong-flying ducks began to cir- 
 cle. At each turn they came nearer the ground, 
 and, after a cautious outlook, rose and darted 
 downward again and again, finally settling in a 
 pool in a large zizania marsh, a long distance 
 ahead. 
 
 "I know jest where they went down," said 
 Sandy, "an' if we work right we'll git a crack 
 at 'em." 
 
 Silently the skiff was pushed into deep water. 
 
 "I'll bet they're up in Piney Run," whispered 
 Sandy. "Jest as soon as we git inside the mouth 
 of the creek, put away yer paddle as soft as pos- 
 sible an' git out yer creepers. Don't make no 
 noise, fer a mallard's got the best hearin' an' the 
 sharpest eyes of ennything that flies." 
 
 In due time the boys reached the Run. They 
 were crouching low and Gilbert was using the
 
 274 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 creepers, much as a fish does his fins. Gun in 
 hand, the older boy sat watching for the ducks at 
 every turn in the creek. Not a sound was ut- 
 tered. Occasionally a terrapin, sunning himself 
 on the bank, would topple over into the water 
 with a faint splash. 
 
 The boys had glided at least a mile through the 
 circuitous creek, when Sandy put a warning fin- 
 ger to his lip. They turned the corner, when 
 "Quack! quack!" up rose the bunch of mal- 
 lards, not forty yards away. The surprised flock 
 jumped against the wind, and as they wheeled, 
 Sandy let them have both barrels, and down 
 tumbled nine ducks. 
 
 The strain was over, and the boys gave way to 
 loud shouts of joy. It was Gilbert's first expe- 
 rience at grass-duck shooting, and he was wild 
 with excitement. 
 
 "I got nine with two barrels," exulted Sandy, 
 "and there's two cripplers gone down ahead. 
 We'll have to push fer 'em." 
 
 " 'Twould be too bad to lose them," spoke the 
 other. 
 
 "Prince'll git 'em if he hasn't lost his nose," 
 said Sandy with confidence, lovingly patting the 
 dog on the head.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 275 
 
 Prince looked up and wagged his tail as if to 
 say, "Depend on me, I'll find them." 
 
 After the dead ducks were gathered into the 
 skiff, Sandy took the shoving pole and Gilbert sat 
 in the gunner's seat. The older boy punted the 
 Dolly through the marsh, in the direction where 
 the wounded ducks had gone down. The spaniel 
 kept his nose well over the bow, alert and ready. 
 Suddenly there was a rustling in the weeds, and 
 up came a crippler, flying strong. 
 
 "Shoot him!" shouted Sandy. 
 
 Gilbert banged with his first barrel and missed, 
 but almost instantly he fired again, this time 
 bringing down his quarry. Then out jumped 
 Prince, and retrieved the fallen duck. 
 
 The second crippler was not so easily found. 
 He had evidently hidden in one of the numerous 
 muskrat houses which dotted the marsh. The 
 boys had about given him up, when the dog un- 
 expectedly darted from the boat, and up scamp- 
 ered a beautiful black mallard, with wing broken, 
 but still exceedingly active. 
 
 Prince was in hot pursuit. Through reeds, 
 over clear places, and everywhere the mallard ran, 
 swam and hopped. He could not fly and he could 
 not remain long under water. For fifteen min-
 
 276 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 utes the boys watched this exciting exhibition of 
 hide-and-seek, until finally the dog cornered the 
 duck in a bunch of matted grass, seized it, and 
 carried it carefully to the skiff. 
 
 As the lads paddled slowly down the main 
 channel, Gilbert noticed a number of little ob- 
 jects bobbing on the water and asked excitedly, 
 "Do you see anything?" 
 
 "I think I do," said the older. "Jest turn in 
 this 'ere creek for a minit, Gil. We'll have to 
 make a blind if it's ducks." 
 
 They ran the boat ashore, got out and cut a 
 number of cedar boughs, which they piled up in 
 the bow of their tiny craft. 
 
 "Yer see, it's this 'ere way," said Sandy. 
 "When there ain't any ice on the river, yer can 
 creep on a white-back or a red-head, if yer jest 
 hide yerself 'hind somethin' green: an' when 
 there is ice on the river, if yer hide yerself 'hind 
 somethin' white, the chances is yer can git within 
 shootin' distance er the game." Sandy brought 
 out the creepers, and lying flat again, the boys 
 moved the skiff slowly toward the black objects. 
 
 "Ducks, an' no mistake !" whispered Sandy, as 
 they came near enough to see them swimming 
 and diving in the open water.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 277 
 
 "Take yer first shot when they jump, an' give 
 'em bally-hooly when they double," cautioned 
 Sandy quietly. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the Dolly drifted, while the 
 waterfowl, warned by their instinctive sense of 
 danger, swam toward a common center, and 
 crowded together so closely that a large blanket 
 might have covered them completely from sight. 
 Apparently by concerted action, they rose in a 
 body. 
 
 "Paste 'em, Gil!" shouted Sandy in great ex- 
 citement. 
 
 From some unexpected cause, which he never 
 could explain, Gilbert pulled the trigger before 
 he got the gun to his shoulder, and the recoil 
 struck him full and square in the nose. Then, to 
 make his misfortune worse, he lost his balance, 
 and overboard went dead ducks, dog, and both 
 boys. 
 
 Gilbert swam to the overturned boat and held 
 on for dear life. Sandy came up out of the water 
 some ten feet behind, and quickly joined his com- 
 panion. Together they shoved the tiny craft into 
 a shallow place and righted it. The gun Sandy 
 secured by diving, while the scattered ducks were 
 retrieved by the spaniel.
 
 278 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "What became of the ducks I started to shoot ?" 
 asked Gilbert, pulling off his boots and emptying 
 them of water. 
 
 "I guess they wuz too busy to stay," laughed 
 Sandy. "When they seen us go kerflop they felt 
 so sorry that they put on extry steam an' went 
 home to tell their mothers all 'bout it." 
 
 "Golly, but I'm wet!" said the little fellow, 
 with teeth chattering. 
 
 "Don't mind that, jest take a double paddle an' 
 work it fer all ye're worth, an' yer'll be as warm 
 as a bug in a rug." 
 
 Reentering the skiff they shoved off and soon 
 reached the camp. It did not take them long to 
 put on dry clothes, and, none the worse for the 
 adventure, barring Gilbert's battered nose, they 
 were soon relating their experience. The Jedge 
 congratulated them on their fortunate escape, and 
 then said : 
 
 "Don't ever ag*in put yer finger on the trigger, 
 Gil, until ye're ready to shoot off your gun, an' 
 know what ye're shootin' at. Lots o' people on 
 this earth git inter trouble by shootin' off their 
 mouth before they knows what they're aimin' at. 
 Ye're mighty lucky to git off so easy." 
 
 During the giving of this advice, Leander and
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 279 
 
 Dink returned from Succabel's Cove where they 
 had been hunting woodcock. A bare half-dozen 
 constituted their bag. 
 
 "Hunting woodcock isn't the thing it's cracked 
 up to be, Jedge," lamented Leander. 
 
 "No, that's true ; there's a powerful lot o' room 
 outside o' woodcock," chuckled the old man. 
 
 "'Tain't tellin' anythin' out'n the way," 
 chimed in Dink, "when I sez we misses four 
 woodcock fer every one we git, when we do git 
 'em. They look dead easy, but they keep yer 
 wonderin' how they kin go right on after yer 
 shoot at 'em. But they do, an' no joke." 
 
 "The woodcock is a noble bird," said the Jedge, 
 "but he is shot at so much, he jest gits used to it. 
 It's a wonder to me he hasn't lost confidence in 
 the world an' passed in his checks, a-goin' where 
 the wicked cease from trouble an' the weary are 
 at rest." 
 
 "They git mighty brash sometimes, though," 
 said Dink. "Honest-to-goodness, if one didn't 
 turn round this mornin' an' make a bee-line fer 
 Leander. I thought he wuz goin' to take Lean- 
 der's gun away from him, an' it scared me so I 
 hollered fer my mother." 
 
 "Yer must have been born under a lucky star,
 
 280 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Leander," laughed the Jedge. " 'Twas only yer 
 luck saved yer gun. Ye' re certainly lucky. I 
 spec' if yer tumbled overboard yer'd come up 
 dusty." 
 
 Supper was nearly ready, the potatoes were 
 roasting in the ashes, the fish were frying, and 
 the ducks were broiling on the spit. 
 
 Matt, the darky, had built a table during the 
 day, and the Jedge, with the boys, gathered round 
 it for their evening meal. Matt sat by the fire, a 
 huge piece of bacon, some sweet potatoes and a 
 can of steaming coffee before him. Blinkey, his 
 dog, was dozing near by. 
 
 "I spec's, Matt," said the Jedge, "that yer like 
 hog-meat better'n mos' anything else, don't yer ?" 
 
 "I 'knowledges the co'n, Jedge; I'se powerful 
 fond o' hog-meat. But if yer wants this culled 
 pusson to be right in heaven, jest gimme roas' 
 'possum." 
 
 Blinkey opened his eyes, raised his Head, and 
 listened attentively. 
 
 " 'Possum ?" queried Leander. 
 
 " 'Possum's what I sez," repeated the darky, 
 and his dog looked around sharply. 
 
 " 'Possum, stuffed with sweet potatoes, is jest 
 about right," said the Jedge.
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 281 
 
 " 'Possum, sah ! 'tain't nuthin' like 'possum ; 
 'tain't nuthin' like 'possum! It's de bestest an' 
 mos' appetizin'ist thing in de wo'ld, an' dat's 
 'possum, sah, 'possum, an' jest 'possum." 
 
 The reiteration of 'possum had some effect on 
 the dog. He became restless and suddenly dis- 
 appeared. Before Matt had finished expatiating 
 on the beauties of 'possum, the dog was heard 
 vigorously barking in the woods. Everybody 
 was alert. 
 
 "That sounds mighty like 'possum/' said the 
 Jedge, listening intently. 
 
 "Dat sounds jest like 'possum," said Matt, and 
 taking a lantern he led the way into the timber, 
 directed by the sounds coming from Blinkey. 
 
 "Dar's a 'possum, sho'," and up the tree the 
 darky shinned. 
 
 "Dar he is, out'n dat limb, a-makin' out he's 
 sleepy. Gimme yo'h hatchet." Sandy imme- 
 diately climbed up to Matt and handed it to him. 
 In an instant the darky had cut the limb. Down 
 came Mr. 'Possum, and fell among the group, 
 lying motionless and grinning like a simpleton. 
 Quick as a flash, Blinkey had mastered him, and 
 in triumph the animal was brought to the camp. 
 
 "I sho'ly hoped we'd git a 'possum sometime,
 
 282 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 but, hones' nigger, I didn't spec' to hev one so 
 soon," and Matt patted his dog's head approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 "That 'ere exhibition of Blinkey's is what 
 scientific men calls 'canine intelligence,' ' ' ex- 
 pounded the Jedge. "He listened to us talkin' 
 'bout 'possum, an' he made up his mind we wanted 
 one." 
 
 "Fse been a-hankerin' ar'ter 'possum sence 
 away befoh' las' grass," said the darky. 
 
 "Speakin' o' canine intelligence, I used ter 
 have a dog what had more of it than yer could 
 shake a stick at." 
 
 "When was that, Jedge?" asked Leander. The 
 Jedge needed only an interlocutor. 
 
 "It wuz before the war," the Jedge commenced, 
 and every one around the fire listened intently. 
 
 THE JEDGE'S STORY, 
 
 I wuz settin' home one mornin', jest pinin' 
 'cause my rheumatiz wuz troublin' me, a ruminat- 
 in' on the vicissitudes of life, as scientific men 
 would say, when along comes one of them fur- 
 riners with a shingle up his back, they call valets. 
 
 He ups and sez, "I understand ye' re the party
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 283 
 
 this note is intended fer," an' hands me a letter, 
 addressed an' superscribed to me. 
 
 It was from a gentleman in Philadelphy I 
 know'd. It sez he would be much 'bliged if I'd 
 give his fren', C. Johnson-Johnson, Esquire, a 
 good hunt, an' furnish him with a dog an' a guide, 
 if I wuz person'lly unable to go. 
 
 I told the party to say to Mr. C. Johnson- John- 
 son, Esquire, that the dog an' guide would be 
 ready fer him any time he would call. He said 
 his guv'ner would be down the nex' mornin'. 
 
 Well, sir, nex' mornin' 'bout nine, in walks C. 
 Johnson- Johnson, Esquire. He wuz one of them 
 sweet-scented roosters whose nose seemed huntin* 
 fer a smell all the time. He wore green goggles 
 an' put on 'nuff luggs fer a peacock with two tails. 
 He wuz arrayed as never wuz Daniel Boone in 
 the dark an' bloody groun's: moccasins, buck- 
 skin pants with tossels up the side, fur coat, an' 
 squirrel cap. He weighed 'bout as much as a bar 
 o' soap after a hard day's wash, an' he wuz ner- 
 vous as the St. Vitus dance. 
 
 I sed, "C. Johnson- Johnson, Esquire, ye' re cer- 
 tainly rigged up fer keeps. We don't hunt pa'- 
 tridges and cotton-tails in that 'ere kind o' garb 
 down Here."
 
 284 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "But I desires to," says the sassiety tad, mighty 
 pompous. 
 
 "Enny way yer likes, as the turkey sed when 
 he was asked how he wanted to be cooked," I 
 whacked back. 
 
 "I propose to go as I wish," he barked like he 
 had a double chin. 
 
 Sez I, "Are yer a good shot?" 
 
 He looks at me cantankerous like an' drawls, 
 "I never miss." 
 
 I ups an' sez, "That's all right, Mr. Philadel- 
 phy. If yer never miss, I've got the dog an' nig- 
 ger to go with yer, an' they'll show yer more birds 
 in a day than yer ever seen afore in yer life. But 
 remember, it's no use o' takin' that 'ere dog along 
 if yer misses. He don't like it an' he's powerful 
 partic'lar who he hunts with." 
 
 "I told you that I never miss," sez the sassiety 
 tad, almost a-hollerin' at me. 
 
 I whistles fer my dog, an' Bob comes out, 
 lookin' at the stranger, curious like. 
 
 "What breed was the dog, Jedge?" queried 
 Leander. 
 
 He hadn't no special breed, jest plain dog. I 
 guess his pedigree wuz all breeds 'cept pug. I 
 never had no use fer a pug. Pugs always riled
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 285 
 
 me. My dog never riled me, so I kalkerlate he 
 never had no pug in him. 
 
 Well, as I wuz sayin', I sez, "Here's the dog. 
 His name's Bob, an' he'll stay with yer as long as 
 yer hit. But if yer miss three times runnin', I 
 won't guarantee him." 
 
 "I told you I never miss," bellered the sassiety 
 tad, a-stampin' with his foot. Then he asked, 
 bossy-like, "Are you goin' as my guide?" 
 
 "I would like to, jest to see yer pop 'em over, 
 only my rheumatiz is so bad I can't walk," I sez, 
 "but I've got a kidney-foot nigger, named Eben- 
 ezer, who knows ev'ry inch of groun' in these 'ere 
 parts," and I whistles fer Ebenezer, who wuz 
 snoozin' 'cross the street. 
 
 When he comes over I tells him I wants him to 
 go with the gentleman an' give him a good hunt ; 
 an' so Ebenezer sed good-by to his folks an' got 
 ready to start. I called the dog an' the nigger 
 over to me an' I sez, "I've lent yer to this 'ere 
 gentleman, C. Johnson- Johnson, Esquire, for to 
 go huntin'. He sez he never misses, so yer orter 
 have er continual round o' pleasure." 
 
 Bob looked at the stranger, an' I hope I may die 
 if the dog didn't shake his head, sorrowful like. 
 Ebenezer didn't say nuthin', but he pop-eyed so at
 
 286 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 the tad I kicked him twict on the shins afore he'd 
 let go a-lookin'. 
 
 "Be mighty keerful of both of 'em, 'specially the 
 dog," I sez, as the sassiety tad picked up his gun. 
 
 "Come, Bob," sez he, shoulderin' his firearm, 
 which was a britch-loader, an' the fust that me an' 
 Bob an' the nigger 'd ever seen. 
 
 Bob looked at the tad an' grabbed him by the 
 coat-tail an' was pullin' him back. The man got 
 awful scared an' hid behind me. 
 
 "Jest wait till I finds out what the trouble is," I 
 sez. Bob kep' jumpin' up as though he wanted to 
 reach the gun. 
 
 "Come on !" sez Mr. Philadelphy, startin' once 
 more. The dog grabs his coat-tails ag'in an' 
 hangs on. "Somethin's wrong," I sez. I calls 
 the dog off, an' patted him on the head. He took 
 hold o' my sleeve an' led me over to the corner 
 of the room where my ol' muzzle loader was 
 restin', an' rubbed his nose ag'in the ramrod four 
 or five times. 
 
 It jest come to me in a minit what the trouble 
 wuz. Bob noticed the stranger's gun hadn't no 
 ramrod, bein' a britch-loader, an' he didn't un- 
 derstan' it. I sez to the stranger, "You can't 
 blame him; he ain't never seen a britch-loader
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 287 
 
 afore an' he knows a ramrod is indispensable to 
 a gun gener'lly." I jest took the stranger's gun 
 an' showed Bob how it worked, an' he walked off 
 with the tad, waggin' his tail satisfied like, an' 
 they wuz soon out o' sight, goin' toward the 
 country. 
 
 Well, sir, about two o'clock, I wuz sittin' on the 
 back porch takin' a little siesta, as scientific men 
 calls snoozin' after dinner, when who should I see 
 a-humpin' up the street but Bob. 
 
 When he gits to me, he squats down an' looks 
 in my face, expectin' me to ask him somethin'. 
 "What's the trouble, Bob?" I sez. 
 
 With that he straightens out like as if he wuz 
 p'intin' birds, then barks twice an' runs like mad 
 up the street, comes back an' squats in front of me 
 ag'in, an' then he does the same thing two times 
 runnin'. 
 
 I gits it through my coco'nut what he meant, 
 an' patted him on the head, an' he went out to his 
 kennel to have a sleep. 
 
 A little while after, along comes Ebenezer, 
 a-limpin' like he wuz lame all over. When he gits 
 to the gate, he sez, "Marse Jedge, please 'scuse 
 me, I'se powerful uncomf'table. Dat fool man 
 sed he could shoot round a corner, but it didn't
 
 288 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 work, an' now I'se gwine down to de doctor to 
 git him to dig de shot out'n my carcass. I'se 
 'fraid I'se done fer, fer settin' down," an* Eb- 
 enezer hobbled away. 
 
 Well, sir, in about two hours along comes C. 
 Johnson- Johnson, Esquire. "What luck?" sez I. 
 "Only fair," sez he, showin' two catbirds, a crow 
 an' a sparrow. "Where's the nigger?" sez I. 
 "Oh, asleep somewhere in the woods," sez he. 
 "He jest strolled off, an' I ain't seen him," sez the 
 sassiety tad. "I hopes he didn't take nuthin' of 
 yourn away with him," I sez, jest a little bit riled. 
 "No, he didn't," he answered. "Yes, he did," I 
 sez, "he carried off a load o' yer shot, an' jest as 
 soon as the doctor gits through pickin' 'em out'er 
 him, he'll give 'em back to yer." 
 
 "Why, the last I saw of him he wuz goin' over 
 a fence," sez Mr. Tad. "Yes, an' you helped him 
 over with four drams o' powder an' two ounces of 
 number ten," I shouts. "You surprise me !" said 
 the sweet-scented rooster. "Where's the dog?" 
 I asks, innercent like. "Oh, he ain't no good," 
 sez the tad, "I couldn't do nuthin' with him ; he's 
 gun-shy, an' flushed the birds an' ain't got no 
 nose, nohow." 
 
 Honest-to-goodness, but out comes Bob, an'
 
 THE NOCATCHTANK CLUB 289 
 
 a-lookin' at the stranger, he barks, "Liar! liar! 
 liar!" jest as plain as speakin', an' then starts up 
 the street a-hoofin' it fer the B. and O. depot. 
 
 "That dog acts like he wuz mad," sez Mr. Tad. 
 
 "He's got reason to be," I whacked back. "You 
 shoot?" I shouted, my dander up. "I bet yer 
 couldn't hit er flock o' barn-doors in a month." 
 
 "Sir!" he sez, "yer shock me." 
 
 "Shock yer ? If it wasn't fer my rheumatiz I'd 
 shock yer till yer tho't I wuz a galvanic battery. 
 I'd break yer neck," I sez, itchin' to git my hands 
 on him, fer bullyraggin' my dog, when presto! I 
 sees Bob a-comin' helter-skelter, with somethin' 
 in his mouth. When he gits to us, he drops it in 
 front of the sassiety tad. It wuz a railroad time- 
 table, an' C. Johnson- Johnson, Esquire, takes the 
 next train for Philadelphy. 
 
 "Boys, it's time to turn in. It'll be nine o'clock 
 sooner than yer think, an' yer all orter be a- 
 snoozin' afore that time," said the Jedge. "I'll 
 take a fresh chaw of kinnikinick an' a few puffs 
 on my ol* dudeen an' I'll be there before yer 
 know it." 
 
 It took but a moment for the youngsters to get 
 into the tent, and, rolling themselves snugly in
 
 290 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 their blankets, before long they were fast asleep. 
 Matt found a cozy place in the smaller tent, and 
 shortly after the Jedge, too, sought rest for the 
 night. 
 
 At five next morning the camp was astir again. 
 In an hour breakfast was over, and the assign- 
 ments for the day were made. And thus it con- 
 tinued all the week. On Saturday afternoon 
 stakes were drawn, camp was broken, and with a 
 generous bag of quail, rabbits, squirrels, ducks, 
 snipe, and a fine haul of fish, the party slowly 
 glided down the river. By dark they had reached 
 the Lillian's anchorage. 
 
 Men and boys were happy and contented, bet- 
 ter for their outing, and proud of the success of 
 the first expedition of the Nocatchtank Hunting 
 and Fishing Club.
 
 CHAFER XVII 
 
 "TWO GENTLEMEN, BORN AN' BRED*' 
 
 It was midday when Dennis Foley awoke from 
 his drunken stupor; he was in an ugly frame of 
 mind, and ready to quarrel at the slightest provo- 
 cation. 
 
 "Bein' a deader without gittin' nuthin' fer it 
 ain't what it's cracked up to be, Cul," he said. 
 "If my bein' a stiff wuz worth them shellin' out 
 two hundred, seems to me we orter git more if 
 they know'd I wuz alive an' kickinV 
 
 "I don't think that 'ud help yer much," said 
 Hildey. 
 
 "Why not?" asked the other. 
 
 " 'Cause if yer show yer mug, the jig 'ud 
 be up." 
 
 "How d'yer figure that?" queried Foley sav- 
 agely. 
 
 "I've been thinkin' it over, an' I don' believe it'd 
 work for yer to show yerself, even if Tom thinks 
 it would be all right. That man Franklin is a 
 holy terror, an' it wouldn't take him long to git 
 291
 
 292 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 on ter yer game, an' what he wouldn't do to us 
 for foolin' him, I ain't a-sayin'." 
 
 "But if I turned up 'live, that 'ere man Jebb 
 orter shell out big to git rid o' me an' let him 
 marry the ol' gal." 
 
 "I s'pose he would/' agreed Hildey, "if yer wife 
 wuzn't so cantankerous, but she tol' me she 
 wouldn't marry the best man that ever lived, if 
 she knew yer wuz alive/' 
 
 "Mebbe she's still gone on me, pard, an' jest 
 expectin' I'll come an' say : 'Come to me arms, me 
 little ducky darlin'/ " and Foley laughed hilari- 
 ously at the very thought 
 
 "Don't fool yerself 'bout that, Dennis. I axed 
 her if yer wuzn't dead, would she be glad to see 
 yer, an' she yells at me, 'I wouldn't tech him with 
 a forty-foot pole, if ther' wuzn't 'nother man in 
 the world/ " 
 
 "Did she have the gall to say that?" Foley in- 
 quired angrily. 
 
 "That's what she said, an' she meant it, too. 
 Yer don't stand no more chanst with her than a 
 feather in the fi'ry furnace." 
 
 "If she talks that 'ere way, durn her, I won't 
 let her marry no man, if I swings fer it a minit 
 after."
 
 "TWO GENTLEMEN, BORN AN' BRED" 293 
 
 "Don't be rash an' let 'em know ye're alive, 
 Dennis, though it's my 'pinion that we orter git 
 even with the hull caboodle of 'em, fer interferin' 
 with two peaceful gentlemen born an' bred, an' 
 bringin' us all the way on here, fer only a measly 
 two hunderd plunks." 
 
 "Yes, an' durn yer skin," cried Foley, rising 
 and shaking his fist in Hildey's face, "I ain't seen 
 a red cent of it." 
 
 "Don't be hard on me, beau," pleaded Hildey, 
 " 'cause I fergot meself once. Yer mark my 
 words, ther's a lot o' fine pickin' roun' here, an* 
 yer'll say so when yer gits yer bearin's." 
 
 "Well, yer can bet I didn't come here for nuth- 
 in'," said Foley, bringing his hand down heavily 
 on the table. 
 
 "Now yer shoutin'," exclaimed Hildey. 
 
 "I'm goin' out now," grunted Foley; "I'm feel- 
 in* like a bear with a sore head. I'll look round 
 an' see the lay o' the Ian'." 
 
 Promising to return shortly, Foley put on his 
 slouch hat and started on his tour of investi- 
 gation. 
 
 It was long past dusk when he shambled back. 
 
 "How does things look to yer?" was Hildey's 
 first question.
 
 294 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Dead open an' shet," chuckled Dennis. "I saw 
 the hull caboodle Molly an' Jebb an' Franklin. 
 They didn't see me, an' I guess they wouldn't 'a' 
 know'd me if they had. I wuz a-talkin' to a bloke 
 to fin' out what he'd say 'bout Mary. He ups an' 
 sez : 'It's a mighty good thing that Dennis Foley's 
 dead, fer if he wuz alive an' come round here 
 botherin' the widder, the boys 'ud jest tar an* 
 feather him, an' throw him inter the river.' An' 
 then the feller tells me my own hist'ry, an' I sez, 
 'How d'er know that's so ?' And he sez, 'Colonel 
 Franklin has let ev'rybody know what an onery 
 cuss Dennis Foley wuz, an' what the Colonel sez, 
 goes.' 
 
 "I sez, pretendin' not to be interested, 'What 
 hez Colonel Franklin got ag'in a dead man?' 
 
 "The Colonel sez, he sez to me, 'The devil cer- 
 t'nly orter have Dennis Foley, for he wuz a traitor, 
 an' a deserter, an' a wife beater, an' the dirtiest 
 coward what ever lived/ 
 
 "I jest b'iled over an' walked away, but I made 
 up my mind I'd git even with that Franklin, an' 
 the hull gang." 
 
 "What's yer plan, pard?" asked Hildey. 
 
 "Fust of all, we wants ter pick up what we kin 
 in the way er spondulix to git even with them
 
 "TWO GENTLEMEN, BORN AN' BRED" 295 
 
 people round here fer their poor 'pinion of us," 
 Foley replied. "Second, I wants ter sock it good 
 an' hard to the ol' gal fer fergettin' to keep my 
 mem'ry green; an' third, I wants to make that 
 bilk Franklin feel I ain't so dead as he thinks. 
 But, beau, yer needn't go in cahoots with me 'less 
 yer got nerve, fer it's goin' to take nerve to do it. 
 Are yer in ?" 
 
 "Count on me," was Hildey's quick reply. "I 
 ain't makin' no highfalutin' bluffs, but I'll stick by 
 yer like yer shadder, Dennis, old pard, 'specially 
 if I kin git a whack at that old stick-in-the-mud 
 who booted me, a gentleman " 
 
 "Never mind that now," interrupted Foley. 
 "This is me plan," he continued. "To-morrer we 
 must git a place to live, where the old Nick his- 
 self can't find us, an* then we'll jest work out 
 things carefully." 
 
 "I knows the very spot to hide," said Hildey. 
 "I was a-hoofin' it from a cop one day, an' jest 
 stumbled on it, lucky like. It's a big cave under 
 a bluff on the river, right back of a ol' cemetery, 
 an' yer kin only git inter it under a rotten wharf 
 what ain't been used fer years. I'll take yer down 
 an' show it to yer to-morrer, an' if ye're thinkin' 
 it's all right, we'll move there fust chance we gits."
 
 296 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Sounds all right," replied Dennis, "an' I'll see 
 it soon as I kin." 
 
 "What d'yer say to takin' yer son Tom in as a 
 pardner?" suggested Hildey. "He knows these 
 diggin's round here better than we does, an* he 
 might come in handy." 
 
 " 'Tain't the thing yet to let him know I'm still 
 on deck," objected Dennis, "he'd blab it sure as 
 eggs is eggs. I wants him to think I'm dead, yet a 
 while." 
 
 "Jest as yer say, pard, but he's with us," re- 
 sponded Hildey. "Whenever I talk to him he jest 
 gets riled about yer ol' gal marryin' an* keeps on 
 a-sayin', Td give a hull lot if dad wuz here an' 
 cooked her goose.' ' 
 
 "He's got no right to hate his mother," inter- 
 rupted Foley with emphasis. 
 
 "Well, I don't know," said the other slowly. 
 "She's no better'n she ought to be, I'm a-thinkin'." 
 
 "What d'yer mean by you're a-thinkin?" asked 
 Foley sharply. 
 
 "Yer knows what I mean. She'd jest let any- 
 thing that wears pants an' galluses toddle after 
 her." 
 
 This attack on his deserted spouse roused 
 Foley's pride as the woman's husband, and, jump-
 
 "TWO GENTLEMEN, BORN AN' BRED" 297 
 
 ing up, he caught Hildey by the throat, pushed 
 him toward the wall and shouted : 
 
 "Ye're a liar! Don't say nuthin' 'gainst my 
 Molly; there's no guess comin' 'bout her. She's 
 my wife, whether er no, an if yer says 'nother 
 word ag'in her I'll beat yer to a pulp." 
 
 "I didn't mean nuthin' 'g'in her character, Den- 
 nis," said Hildey, wriggling away, "but she's no 
 spring chicken an' wouldn't crack under the 
 wings, an' she orter know better 'n to let a 
 galoot hang round her afore she know'd yer wuz 
 dead." 
 
 "Mebbe yer right 'bout that," mused the other 
 after a long pause, "I seen her to-day a-walkin' 
 with that bloke what wants her. I wuz restin' in 
 a park, layin' on a bench, so they couldn't tell 
 who I wuz, an' I heerd him say to her, Tm 
 a-countin' de days when I can take yer to my heart 
 an' call yer my own,' an' she answered, 'So am I, 
 Mr. Jebb,' a-blushin', jest like, she done when I 
 fust knew her, durn her carcass! 
 
 "But I'm goin' to git even with her an' ev'ry- 
 body what's interfered in my fam'ly 'fairs. No- 
 body's got no right to come between me an' my 
 lawful wedded wife. If they hadn't I wouldn't 
 be dead now, an' she wouldn't be a-list'nin' to that
 
 298 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 fool a-talkin' love. It's a mighty poor world when 
 a man can't be away five years without some one 
 coaxin' his wife off. What are we comin' to, 
 ennyhow? But I'll make 'em toe the mark, see 
 if I don't." 
 
 Conditions now confronting Foley had become 
 an exemplification of the old adage, "Blessings 
 brighten as they take their flight." Mary Foley 
 had suddenly assumed an importance her husband 
 had never realized before; because another man 
 loved and wanted to marry her the miserable 
 wretch was determined upon revenge, and this 
 feeling extended to every one who was friendly 
 to her. 
 
 "John," he said, after a long pull at his second 
 bottle, "yer remember that little job we put up at 
 Evansville two years ago ?" 
 
 "Yer mean the one where we swiped the kid, 
 an' held out fer big money?" asked his pal. 
 
 "Exac'ly! It was dead easy, the way we 
 worked it." 
 
 "Yer bet ! Nuthin' like a stolen kid to keep the 
 peelers off, an' let yer transact yer bizness with 
 the principals fust hand." 
 
 "I noticed a brat to-day runnin' round the yard 
 er that 'ere man, Franklin. The black wench,
 
 "TWO GENTLEMEN, BORN AN' BRED" 299 
 
 what tends her, calls her Lily. If we could kid- 
 nap that gal, I'd be hittin' two birds with one 
 stone; git revenge an' have a barrel er rhino, be- 
 sides." 
 
 "It's risky bizness, pard," whispered Hildey, 
 looking around nervously, "means lynch law 
 'mong these 'ere Southerners, if they nab yer." 
 
 "Southerners ain't no quicker at nabbin' than 
 enny other folks. An' we ain't goin' to be nabbed. 
 We'll do the job so slick that we'll keep right on 
 stayin' round here with no one no wiser." 
 
 "How yer goin' to work it?" asked the other 
 curiously. 
 
 "It's dirt easy," chuckled Foley. 
 
 "All right, pard. I've always been with yer, 
 an' if we're ketched, we'll jest say it's four o'clock 
 with both of us, an' take our medicine like two 
 gentlemen born an' bred." 
 
 "Two nuthin'," sneered Foley, snapping his 
 fingers. "In a town like this the newspaper tells 
 yer even what folks has f er dinner, an' how many 
 kids has got the colic. Sooner or later that man 
 Franklin will git out er town on bizness, and the 
 paper'll say so, an' then, with only the wimmin 
 folks an' the brats in the house, 'tain't nuthin' 
 that's goin' to stop us."
 
 300 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 The two vagabonds had now drawn their heads 
 close together, and were engaged in earnest con- 
 versation that became almost imperceptibly faint, 
 save for occasional words "dog-button," "chlo- 
 roform," "how much," "kid." 
 
 Then as the dim and flickering candle burned to 
 its end, Foley and Hildey, grinning hideously, 
 clasped hands, and a moment later were envel- 
 oped in the darkness of the room.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 For the two weeks following Dennis Foley's 
 advent, the police of Pipetown were very much 
 exercised at the daily reports of robberies com- 
 mitted in the vicinity. Jebb's store was entered 
 twice, and money and valuables were taken. The 
 work showed the evidence of experts, and, so far, 
 every clue worked upon by the detectives had 
 come to naught. 
 
 The townspeople had heretofore been careless 
 on account of their supposed immunity from 
 thieves and burglars, but they now realized that 
 it was necessary to secure windows and doors. 
 Every one was on the alert, but completely mysti- 
 fied that the robbers had so far eluded detection. 
 
 One evening on returning from his office, Colo- 
 nel Franklin said to his wife as the family gath- 
 ered around the supper table: 
 
 "Nannie, my sister Sophie writes that Amelia 
 is to be married on Thursday. They are going to 
 
 have a house wedding, and she is very anxious 
 301
 
 302 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 that mother, you, Edith, and myself should at- 
 tend." 
 
 "Whom does she marry?" said the grand- 
 mother, with sentimental interest. 
 
 "Oh, Cad Wilkins, son of General Wilkins, 
 who lives at Grimes' Four Corners. He comes of 
 one of the oldest and best families of southern 
 Maryland." 
 
 "I've met him," said the lady, "he will make a 
 very good husband for Amelia, I'm sure." 
 
 "I think it will be our duty as well as our pleas- 
 ure to attend," said the Colonel. "We can drive, 
 leaving here at ten o'clock Thursday morning, 
 and reach there by three. The wedding is to take 
 place at five, and there'll be a reception and an 
 old-fashioned country dance that night at Sophie's 
 house." 
 
 "I do hope we can go," said Mrs. Franklin, "I 
 know there'll be so many of our old friends there, 
 and we'll surely meet many acquaintances we 
 haven't seen in years." 
 
 It was thereupon settled that they would make 
 the trip. So at a quarter to ten on Thursday 
 morning Matt had the carriage at the door, and 
 waited for the three ladies and Colonel Franklin 
 to appear. As the colored man stood at the horse's
 
 SANDY ON THE WATCH 303 
 
 head, he noticed a shaggy-bearded, stoop-shoul- 
 dered rag-picker, who was plying his vocation in 
 front of the house, gathering bits of rags, scraps 
 of paper, bones and old iron from the gutters and 
 the roadway. 
 
 Gilbert, Lillian and Delia came out with the rest 
 of the household. After the wedding party had 
 entered the carriage and the children had been 
 kissed good-by the father said to them : 
 
 "Now, be very good and don't worry Delia. 
 We'll be home to-morrow, sometime. And, Delia, 
 be sure to lock up securely to-night, and unchain 
 Lion before you turn in." After a few more 
 cheery parting words from the parents the car- 
 riage rolled away. 
 
 The rag-picker continued his labors until the 
 vehicle had disappeared in the distance. Then he 
 suddenly lost interest in his work, and shuffled 
 slowly away in the direction of the river. He 
 finally reached a lonely spot back of an old ceme- 
 tery, and, crawling under a dilapidated wharf, 
 found the entrance to a cave, well within the hill. 
 He whispered softly and was answered by a voice, 
 inquiring : 
 
 "Is that you, pard?" 
 
 Pulling off his disguise, Dennis Foley, stoop-
 
 304 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 ing beneath the low roof, groped his way to a 
 dim light some distance inside. 
 
 "What d'yer fin' out, Dennis?" asked Hildey 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Jest what the paper said las' night, that 
 Franklin an' the wimmin folks wuz a-goin' down 
 to Marylan' fer a weddin' an' wouldn't be back 
 till ter-morrer." 
 
 "Why pard, it's comin' out jest as if it wuz pus- 
 sonly 'ranged fer us." 
 
 "It looks like the easiest job we ever tackled. 
 There's nobody left in the house, but that black 
 wench, an' the boy an' the kid, an' if we can't bag 
 the brat, we ain't got no right to be in the bizness. 
 Have yer got the dog-button ready ?" 
 
 "Yep, I've fixed it up good an' strong." 
 
 "That galoot, Franklin, tol' the wench to be 
 sure an' unchain the bow-wow, an' that's jest 
 what we wants. An' the cullud lady looks as if 
 she'd snooze like a house afire. She orter be dead 
 easy. I guess a little 'go-ter-sleep' on a han'k'- 
 chief will do the hull trick in less time than a pig's 
 whistle." 
 
 After the departure of Colonel Franklin and his 
 party, Gilbert went to Sandy's house and found 
 his chum all alone. Mrs. Goggles was visiting
 
 SANDY ON THE WATCH 305 
 
 relatives in Baltimore, and was not expected back 
 for a week. After much persuasion, Sandy finally 
 accepted Gilbert's invitation to spend the days 
 until his mother's return at the Franklin home. 
 
 "You see, Sandy," said Gilbert, "Lillian, Delia 
 and I are keeping house all by ourselves, and it 
 would be fine to have you come and boss things." 
 
 "Boss yer gran'mother," laughed Sandy; "but 
 if yer really wants me, little codger, I'll come," 
 and the two started off. 
 
 Lillian, acting as hostess, welcomed Sandy with 
 charming imitative graciousness, and put him 
 wholly at his ease. The afternoon was quickly 
 passed with books and games. 
 
 When supper was over, Gilbert played his vio- 
 lin, with Lillian and Sandy as the only auditors, 
 and after a half-hour of backgammon, Delia came 
 in and suggested bed-time. 
 
 She took Lillian to her room in the nursery on 
 the second floor, and then, after unchaining Lion, 
 a magnificent Newfoundland, dog, and a part of 
 the family, Delia and the boys fastened doors and 
 windows for the night. Sandy and Gilbert went 
 to the latter's room on the third floor, and after 
 the colored woman had washed the supper dishes 
 and put them away, she retired to her room in the
 
 306 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 back of the house. In a very short time all the 
 lights were out, and everybody was fast asleep. 
 
 The bells of St. Peter's chimed out midnight. 
 Sandy was awakened by the low, deep growling 
 of the dog. He listened intently, and thought he 
 heard the animal walk on the porch at the rear of 
 the house. But the boy closed his eyes again and 
 soon dozed off. 
 
 In a little while he was startled again, this time 
 by the cry of a child. He jumped out of bed and 
 drew on his clothes hastily, his ears strained to 
 catch the slightest sound, and his mind filled with 
 some foreboding of evil. He heard Lillian speak : 
 
 "Is that you, Gil?" 
 
 "Gil, Gil !" whispered Sandy, shaking the sleep- 
 ing boy. 
 
 "What is it?" said the younger, rubbing his 
 eyes and sitting up. 
 
 "Gil, Gil, I heard yer little sister call yer, mebbe 
 she wants somethin'." 
 
 Gilbert went to the head of the stairs and called 
 down : "Lily, do you want me ?" 
 
 "Are you up there, Gil? I thought you were 
 down here. Somebody's walking round my 
 room." 
 
 "I'll come right down, dearie," said the little
 
 SANDY ON THE WATCH 307 
 
 fellow, striking a match to light the gas. 
 
 "Gil, come quick!" screamed the child, at the 
 top of her voice. 
 
 "Damn yer!" came through the darkness. It 
 was a man's voice, and the boys heard some one 
 hastily descending the stairs. 
 
 Down dashed Sandy, three steps at a time. 
 When he came to the first floor he groped in the 
 darkness toward the door. Just as he reached it, a 
 bull's-eye lantern was flashed in his face. Like a 
 tiger he jumped for the light, and grappled with 
 the intruder. His onslaught was so sudden that 
 the lantern was shifted for an instant, and Sandy 
 caught a glimpse of Dennis Foley. 
 
 There was a short scuffle, a cry of "Take that, 
 yer fool !" and Foley struck the boy a terrific blow 
 with a sling-shot. Sandy grabbed wildly, then 
 fell in an unconscious heap on the floor. 
 
 Opening the door, Foley rushed out and joined 
 Hildey, who had been waiting under the shadow 
 of a near-by tree. 
 
 "Hustle fer all yer worth. The bloke's tumbled 
 an' the game's up fer to-night. I'll meet yer at the 
 place," and away they ran in different direc- 
 tions. 
 
 As soon as Gilbert had quieted the fears of his
 
 308 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 frightened sister, he awakened Delia, and then 
 hurried to the stairway, calling for Sandy. No 
 response came. 
 
 "I guess Sandy is chasing that man out on the 
 street," said the little fellow, as he slowly felt his 
 way down stairs. Unexpectedly he stumbled on 
 a prostrate form. He stooped, and in an instant 
 knew it was Sandy. 
 
 "Sandy, Sandy," he called, "speak to me. Are 
 you hurt ? What has happened ?" 
 
 In the darkness he placed his hand under the 
 head of the senseless boy and felt the warm blood 
 oozing from a deep wound. In agony and de- 
 spair, he cried out : 
 
 "Oh, God, don't let him die! don't let him die!" 
 Then he shouted, "Delia, Delia come quick; 
 Sandy's hurt." 
 
 The servant hurried down, lighted the gas at 
 the landing and in the room, and, with the help 
 of Gilbert, raised the unconscious boy and gently 
 placed him on a couch. Gilbert put his ear over 
 Sandy's heart, and whispered joyously: 
 
 "It's beating, Delia; it's beating!" The col- 
 ored woman gently sponged the blood from the 
 ugly wound just above the boy's temple. 
 
 Sandy moved slightly, groaned, as if in great
 
 SANDY FELL IN AN UNCONSCIOUS HEAP ON THE FLOOR 
 
 Page 307
 
 SANDY ON THE WATCH 309 
 
 pain, murmured some incoherent words, and 
 slowly opened his eyes. Gilbert knelt by him, and 
 said softly: 
 
 "Sandy, tell me ; what is it ? how did it happen ? 
 Who did it ?" 
 
 Sandy looked around for a moment, and then 
 the light of reason came back once more into his 
 face. 
 
 "Golly, but that wuz a whack !" he said faintly, 
 trying to smile through his pain. "That feller 
 what banged me is a dirty coward. He jest hid 
 back of the door till I got down, an' didn't gimme 
 no chance f er my white alley. I seen his face an' 
 I seen his hand with only three fingers on it, an' 
 I pulled a button off his coat when I went fer him. 
 I'll know him ag'in, if I don't see him for a thou- 
 sand years." 
 
 Then the boy sank back again, thoroughly ex- 
 hausted from the loss of blood. Gilbert hurriedly 
 dressed and ran for the doctor, who came in all 
 possible haste. After dressing the wound the sur- 
 geon said gravely: 
 
 "It's a mighty lucky thing for you, young man, 
 that that blow didn't catch you half an inch lower. 
 I shouldn't like to say what might have hap- 
 pened."
 
 310 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I ain't a-sayin' nuthin'," said the wounded 
 boy, "but if I ever see that feller ag'in, I'll know 
 him, an' he'll know I know him." 
 
 The next morning the dead body of the faithful 
 dog was found, outside the kitchen door. He had 
 died at his post, while trying to guard those whom 
 he loved and who loved him.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 It was the day before Christmas. At four 
 o'clock the wedding of Mr. Jebb and Mrs. Foley 
 was to be solemnized at the old G Street church. 
 The local papers had contained pleasant notices 
 of the coming event, and had referred to certain 
 episodes in Mrs. Foley's personal history, among 
 them the manner in which the death of her former 
 husband had been finally established. 
 
 A short bridal tour was to be made, and the 
 grocer had planned, with the coming of the New 
 Year, to move into a cozy little cottage which he 
 had presented to his bride-elect. 
 
 The usual neighborhood interest in occasions 
 of this character was plainly in evidence at the 
 church, which was filled to overflowing. 
 
 The Jedge appeared in a high choker, white 
 cravat, and a long black coat of the old regime, 
 and had gone so far, even, as to wear white cotton 
 gloves. He moved about like a master of cere- 
 monies, radiating geniality. 
 3"
 
 312 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "These 'ere occasions," he said, as he led 
 Grandmother Franklin to a seat, "these 'ere occa- 
 sions are progressive steps in the upward trend o' 
 modern civilization, as scientific men would say. 
 Jest think o' the Hottentots, the Cannabiles, an' 
 others too numerous to mention. Did they go to 
 a church to git hitched ? Not on yer tintype. Ef 
 Mr. Jebb had been one of them aberigines, he'd er 
 jest hid round the corner, with a shillalie in his 
 hand an' when the widder come 'long, thinkin' o' 
 nuthin' in partic'lar, he'd creep up behind, an' 
 BIFF! When she'd come to, she'd be Mrs. Jebb, 
 'cordin' to law. Things do change!" concluded 
 the old man, with deep conviction. 
 
 As the morning paper stated the following day, 
 "The wedding guests were regaled with a superb 
 musical program by the organist, and finally, 
 as Mendelssohn's Wedding March reverberated 
 through the sacred edifice, the high contracting 
 parties, Mr. Jebb and Mrs. Foley, came up the 
 aisle and stood before the chancel." 
 
 The minister began the service: "Dearly be- 
 loved, we are gathered together here in the sight 
 of God, and in the face of this company, to join 
 together this man and this woman in holy matri- 
 mony ; which is commended of St. Paul to be hon-
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 313 
 
 orable among all men : and therefore is not by any 
 to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly ; but rev- 
 erently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the 
 fear of God. Into this holy estate these two per- 
 sons present come now to be joined. If any man 
 can show just cause why they may not lawfully 
 be joined together, let him now speak, or else 
 hereafter for ever hold his peace." 
 
 "Hold on!" shouted a rough voice from the 
 direction of the gallery. 
 
 The clergyman stopped, and the startled con- 
 gregation turned to see from whom the words had 
 come. In the little gallery above, with his hands 
 grasping the railing and leaning far over, stood 
 an unkempt, unshaven figure, a malignant gleam 
 in his snaky eyes. 
 
 "What does this mean ?" inquired the minister. 
 
 "I kin show cause why they can't marry," tri- 
 umphantly exclaimed the stranger. 
 
 "God forgive me !" cried the bride, clasping her 
 hands, "that's Dennis Foley talking." 
 
 "I ask again, what does this mean?" said the 
 clergyman. 
 
 "It means," roared Foley, "that she can't marry 
 that galoot, 'cause she b'longs ter me." 
 
 "It's true, it's true," moaned the unhappy
 
 314 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 woman, and, sinking on her knees, her hands 
 clinging to the chancel, meaningly she repeated : 
 "Oh, God in Heaven, let me die let me die !" 
 
 The clergyman raised his hand, stilling the sur- 
 prised and excited people. 
 
 "Brethren, I can not proceed with this cere- 
 mony until these charges are properly investi- 
 gated." 
 
 Jebb knelt by the stricken figure, and tried to 
 whisper words of comfort. The clergyman bent 
 toward the kneeling woman and raised her to her 
 feet, conversed with her a moment, and then said 
 aloud : 
 
 "Mrs. Foley states to me that the man who in- 
 terrupted this ceremony is her lawful husband." 
 
 "That's right," came the voice from the gallery, 
 "I'm her husband. She's my lorful wedded wife, 
 an' I ain't goin' to give her up ter nobody." 
 
 "I would suggest that the guests retire," said 
 the clergyman. 
 
 The congregation filed slowly from the church, 
 and in the murmur of excited comment, it could 
 be noted that sympathy was clearly with Mr. Jebb 
 and Mrs. Foley. They, with the minister, re- 
 mained in the church, while in the gallery Foley 
 stood, waiting for some sign from those below.
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 315 
 
 As the Jedge walked slowly down the aisle, the 
 grocer hurried to him and asked him to remain. 
 When the church had been cleared, Jebb said to 
 the minister : 
 
 "We had every reason to suppose that Dennis 
 Foley was dead." Then he explained what had 
 been done by Colonel Franklin and himself to 
 secure information, telling also of the sworn state- 
 ment of Hildey as to Foley's death. 
 
 "As there was no apparent object why he 
 should lie," continued Jebb, "we believed his state- 
 ment, and thought we had a clear right to marry, 
 until this development to-day." 
 
 The Jedge called up : "Foley, come down here, 
 we wants to talk to yer." 
 
 "I'll be down, durn quick." 
 
 When Foley had walked up the aisle, the Jedge 
 asked him sharply: "Where' ve yer bin all these 
 years, an' why d'yer turn up jest now?" 
 
 "I've bin down in Cuby where the Johnnie 
 Rebs sent me, an' I couldn't git back afore," said 
 the tramp, grinning at the recollection of Tom's 
 idea. 
 
 "That's lie number one," burst out the Jedge. 
 "How'd yer know this weddin' wuz to take 
 place?"
 
 316 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I read it in the sassiety papers," tauntingly 
 said Foley. 
 
 "If yer read it in the papers, why didn't yer 
 go to yer wife like a man an' tell her yer wuz 
 alive?" 
 
 "I wuz afear'd it might make her nerv'us," 
 with a sneer. 
 
 "Lie number two ! Ye' re a scoundrel, an' I be- 
 lieve yer did it 'cause yer wanted ter make her 
 feel like the little end o' nuthin'." 
 
 "I ain't got no good blood fer her failin' to 
 keep my mem'ry green. Yer can't blame me fer 
 sockin' it to her, fer fergettin' a man like me, 
 a gentleman born an' bred, to marry a snoozer 
 like that. I heerd she sed she wouldn't tech me 
 with a forty-foot pole. I'll be durned if she'll 
 tech any one else with one. An' that's the rea- 
 son I give yer all a surprise party." 
 
 "An' I bet yer expect to make some money out 
 er it." 
 
 "That's my lay, Guv'ner; yer struck the nail 
 right on the head. If I wuz dead an' done fer, 
 there'd be nuthin' comin' to me, but she's my wife 
 an' she can't deny it." 
 
 "I don't deny it. I consented to marry 'cause 
 I believed you dead. I wish I was, and the shame
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 317 
 
 and sorrow of this day buried with me," and 
 the widow covered her face with her hands. 
 
 "Don't talk that way, Molly. Ain't yer goin' 
 to give a howdy-do kiss to yer hubby?" 
 
 "Oh, keep away; don't touch me!" cried the 
 unhappy woman, shrinking back. 
 
 "Is that the way to treat yer long-lost darlin' ?" 
 wailed the reprobate in a mocking tone. 
 
 The Jedge's blood was up. He grasped Foley 
 by the collar, and shook him till his teeth rattled. 
 
 "I knows this ain't no picnic o' mine," he said, 
 "but if yer open yer potater trap, 'less yer spoken 
 to, in the presence o' the widder, durn yer, I'll 
 break yer in two, an' scatter the pieces !" 
 
 A word from the minister, and the Jedge re- 
 leased his hold. 
 
 " 'Tain't no affair o' your'n to meddle 'tween 
 husban' an' wife," whined the tramp, but he kept 
 well out of the Jedge's reach. 
 
 "I'll make it my affair, yer rum-soaked loafer, 
 you, an' if yer open yer mouth ag'in, when I git 
 through with yer, there won't be no. mistake 'bout 
 the widder bein' a widder." 
 
 The preacher and Jebb begged the Jedge to sit 
 down, and not excite himself. The old fellow 
 was finally quieted.
 
 318 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "What's to be done?" asked the grocer, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Nothing can be done at present/' said the 
 clergyman. "There's no doubt that this man is 
 Mrs. Foley's husband. She can remarry only 
 when death or the law intervenes." 
 
 "That's jest it, parson," said Foley. "Now, 
 what'll the feller what wants ter step in my boots 
 gimme, if I go 'way an' never come back no more, 
 an' let Molly git a divorce?" 
 
 "He'll give you nuthin'," said the wife, "I 
 wouldn't let him pay you a cent to have me free, 
 if you lived to be as old as Methus'lem." 
 
 "All right, Molly, I'll hang roun' here an' make 
 myself to hum, which I has a right to, an' if yer 
 don't treat me like a faithful wife should, I'll 
 have the law on yer." 
 
 The Jedge began to boil again, and, rising, said : 
 
 "I've made it a rule never to interfere in fam'ly 
 'fairs, an' I don't perpose to begin now, but as a 
 man what desires to keep the moral atmosphere 
 of this 'ere town clean, as scientific men would 
 say, I'm goin' to make it my bizness to watch yer 
 in this burg, an' if yer look cross-eyed, I'll lam 
 the life out er yer, an' if yer don't git out er here 
 quick, I'll start right now."
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 319 
 
 Foley, fearing the indignation of the Jedge, 
 walked down the aisle and out of the church, with 
 the parting shot : 
 
 "I'll be round fer supper, Molly, so be sure an' 
 put the kettle on." 
 
 Standing in the church-yard was a group of 
 men and boys, and the subject of their conversa- 
 tion was the unhappy ending of the ceremony. In 
 the gathering were Gilbert and Sandy, the latter 
 with his head still bandaged. As Foley came 
 slouching into view, the crowd looked at him 
 curiously. 
 
 Sandy eyed him with absorbing and ever-in- 
 creasing interest. With a cry, "That's him, that's 
 the man," he darted under the fellow's upraised 
 arm, and, clutching his windpipe, tripped Foley, 
 and held him a prisoner. 
 
 "Yer dirty coward!" shouted the boy, "you're 
 the bum what whacked me t'other night." 
 
 In a moment the Jedge, who had come out of 
 the church, together with a number of friends, 
 held the mari prisoner, while Gilbert rushed for 
 a policeman. Shortly afterward Foley, with nip- 
 pers on his wrists, and a big crowd following, was 
 being led to the police station two blocks away. 
 
 "It's all a mistake," he persisted. "I'll have
 
 320 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 the law on yer, me, a peaceable citizen, what's 
 jest come here to git my rights. Yer've got no 
 license to 'rest me," he said to the policeman. 
 But that functionary did not release his hold. 
 
 Tom Foley had been an interested spectator 
 from the time his mother came into the church 
 on the arm of Mr. Jebb, until the arrest of his 
 father. He remained discreetly in the background 
 and was careful not to express any opinion. At 
 the hearing at the police station he stood at the 
 back of the crowd, but listened attentively to all 
 the proceedings. After the prisoner had given 
 his name, the sergeant asked : 
 
 "What is the charge, officer?" 
 
 "Burglary and attempted murder." 
 
 "Who makes the charge?" 
 
 "Sandy Goggles, sir." 
 
 "Sandy Goggles, step forward." 
 
 Sandy came up to the desk. 
 
 "State in your own words, on what grounds 
 you make this charge." 
 
 "It was this 'ere way, Sergeant," began Sandy. 
 "I wuz a-stayin' at Colonel Franklin's with the lit- 
 tle codger las' Thursday night, 'cause his folks 
 had gone down to Grimes' Four Corners to a 
 weddin'. 'Long 'bout twelve o'clock I wakes up,
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 321 
 
 an' I hears Gil's little sister, Lillian, a-callin' fer 
 Gil. I shakes him, an' then he hears her callin', 
 'Gil, somebody's in my room.' Both of us, me 
 an' Gil, starts down as fast as we kin, an' Gil 
 runs into his sister's room, while I keeps a-goin' 
 down, follerin' somebody what was a-runnin' 
 helter-skelter. When I gits to the bottom, I feels 
 my way, 'cause it's dark as pitch, an' afore I 
 knows it, this 'ere feller flashed a bull's-eye lan- 
 tern in my face, an' when I jumps fer his throat, 
 BIFF, he gives me one fer keeps, an' I didn't see 
 nuthin' no more." 
 
 "But how do you know he is the man ?" asked 
 the sergeant 
 
 "Why, because he's one finger shy on his right 
 hand, an' a button short on his coat." 
 
 "Well, what o' that?" broke in Foley. 
 
 "What o' that?" Sandy replied, looking at the 
 prisoner, "when yer raised yer blackjack ter bang 
 me, I seen yer only had three fingers, an' when I 
 came to, I had this button in my hand, which 
 b'longs right there on yer coat," pointing to a 
 spot where the button was missing, and the cloth 
 torn. 
 
 "Why, I lost that button yesterday," snapped 
 Foley.
 
 322 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I s'pose yer lost that finger yesterday, too," 
 sarcastically suggested the Jedge. 
 
 "The prisoner stands committed until ten 
 o'clock to-morrow, when the justice can hear fur- 
 ther testimony in the case," said the sergeant 
 sharply, making his record very carefully on the 
 docket. 
 
 Foley was led to the little lockup in the rear of 
 the station, and left to his own meditations, while 
 the crowd slowly dispersed, Sandy, Gilbert and 
 the Jedge going away together. 
 
 "I know'd I'd know him, if I ever seen him 
 ag'in, an' I felt it in my bones that he'd know I 
 know'd him, an' I guess he does," said the 
 wounded boy. 
 
 "I've got it in fer him any way he takes it," 
 interposed the Jedge decidedly. "It wuz bad 'miff 
 fer him ter whack yer in the dark, but after all, 
 that may be excused in the line of perfessional 
 duty, as scientific men say, as burglars do that 
 sort of thing, an' therefore that may be over- 
 looked. But I'll never fergive the mean sucker 
 fer breakin' up a nice weddin' like Mr. Jebb's an' 
 the widder's. No way yer can see it, can yer 
 make it out that that wuz in the line o' duty. It 
 wuz jest pure cussedness, combined with total de-
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 323 
 
 pravity, an' he orter be kicked from Alpha to 
 Omaha, an' back ag'in; hangin's too good fer 
 him." 
 
 As Tom Foley heard the sergeant commit his 
 father to the lockup for the night, he slipped out 
 of the station and hurried home. With a show 
 of tears, he put his arms around his mother's 
 neck, and told her how sorry he was that his 
 father had brought disgrace on her. She was so 
 struck by his unusual show of sympathy, that she 
 kissed him again and again. His touching solici- 
 tude for her, in this most trying situation, moved 
 her deeply. 
 
 After he had eaten a hearty supper, Tom ap- 
 proached his mother and kissing her with an ap- 
 pearance of great affection, said, "Mum, I'll be 
 home soon," took his hat and went out. 
 
 As he walked slowly toward the jail an old 
 man, greatly bent and apparently feeble, brushed 
 against him. 
 
 "Look out where you're goin'," snarled the 
 boy, raising his foot as if to kick. 
 
 "It's me, Tom," whispered the old man, who 
 was Hildey in disguise. "As soon as yer can, 
 come down to the old Burnt Bridge an' don't lose 
 a minute."
 
 324 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "All right," returned the boy, "I'll be down 
 'fore yer kin git there." 
 
 He flew along the streets and was soon at the 
 river, where he awaited Hildey's coming. The 
 other appeared, and led the boy along the dark 
 and dreary shore, and into the cave. 
 
 "I'm 'fraid," said Hildey, "yer father made a 
 mess o' goin' into that church. I tol' him a lot o' 
 times to let the ol' gal git hitched, an' then git 
 even. But he wouldn't listen to me, because he 
 wanted revenge on the hull outfit, an' he sed if 
 he broke up the weddin' in church, it would be 
 er great sensashun, an' he could make money out 
 er it, a-showin' hisself in er circus or a dime 
 musyum, an' mebbe he could coax yer mother to 
 go 'long with him, a-givin' exhibishuns like them 
 marble staturs yer see ev'ry now an' then, but it 
 didn't work, an' now pore Dennis is jugged." 
 
 "Why didn't yer tell me the ol' man wuz 
 alive ?" 
 
 "I wanted to, but yer father thought it might 
 git yer inter trouble, if anythin' happened jest like 
 what's happened to-day." 
 
 "Did dad whack that feller?" 
 
 "He did, fer truth." 
 
 "Bully fer dad. I hate that big, blowin' Cog-
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 325 
 
 gles. He's never been no frien' of mine, an' I 
 wish dad had er knocked him out fer good, when 
 he whacked him." 
 
 "Yer dad thought at fust he did. It's wonder- 
 ful he didn't put his lights out, fer he sez he tried 
 to make it a case o' 'Dead men tells no tales.' ' 
 
 "I 'spose they'll make it as hard as they kin fer 
 poor dad, won't they?" 
 
 "Won't be much trouble provin' it on him, if 
 we let's 'em, an' that's where you comes in," said 
 Hildey. 
 
 "How d'yer mean?" 
 
 "Yer dad's got ter get out er that 'ere lockup 
 ter-night, an' yer've got to git him out." 
 
 "How'm I goin' to do it?" asked the boy anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Easy as dirt. I looked at that calaboose to- 
 day after yer dad wuz run in. 'Tain't nuthin' 
 to saw out er there, if it's worked right. Have 
 yer got nerve to help him?" 
 
 "Course I hev, if I swing fer it," said the boy. 
 
 "To-night's the only time it kin be done. When 
 he comes up to-morrer, they'll jug him in the big 
 jail, an' before yer can say Jack Robi'son, he'll- 
 be railroaded to the pen fer fifteen years at least. 
 Think er the awful disgrace on yer, Tom!"
 
 326 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I tell yer I'll do anythin' to save dad." 
 
 "That's the talk. Jest take these two little tools,, 
 an' find a way to git 'em to yer dad to-night." 
 
 Snarley took the small file and saw offered by 
 Hildey, carefully put them in an inside pocket, 
 and, rising to go, said, "Well, good-by, old man. 
 I'm off fer ter help dad. I do hope nobody'll ketch 
 me," this apprehensively. 
 
 "Nobody '11 ketch yer, Tom, if yer keep yer eye 
 peeled." 
 
 "I'm a-shiverin' at the thought of it," whis- 
 pered the younger with fear in his heart, "but 
 I'll try ter free the old man, if I swing fer it." 
 
 "Bosh! Yer won't swing ^er it one way or 
 t'other, Tom. Put some sand in yer craw, an' 
 don't fergit I'll be a-settin' up an' waitin' fer yer 
 all night." 
 
 The lockup was a one-story frame building 
 containing four cells. It was located on an open 
 lot, at least a hundred feet in the rear of the 
 police station, and was approached through an 
 alley that ran along the side of the "hall." To 
 engage a special watchman for this little prison 
 had never been thought necessary, since, ordi- 
 narily, it was occupied only by common drunks 
 and petty violators of the law. True, a police
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 327 
 
 officer passed the place every two hours, but only 
 as a matter of form and perfunctory detail. 
 
 When Foley was taken from the sergeant's 
 court he was placed in a rear cell, where, through 
 a grated window, he could see every one using 
 the alley as a thoroughfare. 
 
 As the night wore on, and travel in the neigh- 
 borhood ceased, he threw himself on his iron bed 
 and soon was fast asleep. Shortly after mid- 
 night, he was awakened by tappings on the ledge 
 of his window. 
 
 "Who's there?" he asked gruffly, and sprang 
 to the grating. 
 
 "Hush!" came from a boy's voice. 
 
 Standing on tiptoe Foley peered down through 
 the bars. 
 
 "Dad, it's me," were the words he heard. 
 
 "Who's yer dad ?" he asked almost savagely. 
 
 "You're my dad. I'm Tom Foley, an' I've 
 come to git yer out," was the answer. 
 
 "What's yer game ?" whispered the father, now 
 awake and fully alert. 
 
 "Here's a saw an' file," said the boy, as he 
 handed the tools to him, "an' yer can easy cut yer 
 way out. The p'liceman will be round soon an' 
 yer can hear him comin', fer he always whacks
 
 328 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 his night-stick at the corner up there. After he's 
 gone, I'll be waitin' fer yer at the end er the alley, 
 an' I'll hide till yer come." 
 
 Then Tom disappeared hurriedly, warned by 
 the blow of the policeman's club against the pave- 
 ment. A moment later, the officer was inspect- 
 ing the bars and locks of the little prison, and 
 finding that all was well, he continued as usual 
 on his beat. 
 
 In half an hour Foley had sawed and filed his 
 way out. Creeping cautiously up the alley he 
 was joined by his son, and together they hastened 
 through back streets, over commons and vacant 
 lots until they reached the river. Crawling under 
 the wharf, they entered the cave, where Hildey 
 greeted them with: "Well, yer fooled 'em, didn't 
 yer?" 
 
 "I'd 'a' died afore I'd a-stopped gittin' dad 
 out," was Tom's bravado answer. 
 
 " 'Twould 'a' meant fifteen years, if it had 
 meant a minit," interrupted Hildey, "if yer 
 couldn't a-got out to-night." 
 
 "That's so," said Tom, "fer I heerd that galoot, 
 Franklin, say when I come out er the station 
 yest'day, that he wuz goin' to prosecute the case 
 an' send dad away fer the longest term he could.
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 329 
 
 It jest made my blood bile, an' I could a-killed 
 him on the spot." 
 
 "Spoke like a true son!" said the father, and 
 the delectable pair embraced. 
 
 "Don't yer think we'd better vamoose?" asked 
 Hildey apprehensively. 
 
 "No, not yet. We'd be ketched if we did. I've 
 got a better plan. Pard, yer put on my coat an' 
 hat, an' go to the B. and O. station. It'll be open 
 afore light, to sdl tickets fer the early train to 
 Philadelphy. Sneak up careful, an' when yer git 
 there, if yer don't see any one yer know, show 
 yerself to ev'rybody roun' the station so they kin 
 git a good look at yer. Then buy yer ticket, an' 
 do as much talkin' with the ticket agent as yer kin. 
 When the train comes 'long it'll still be dark, then 
 yer jest git aboard, but as soon as it starts, jump 
 off on t'other side an' come right back here. Of 
 course, they'll all think I've gone 'way, and '11 try 
 to trace me, but all the time we'll be restin' here, 
 snug as a bug in a rug, an' a-settlin' what we're 
 goin' to do to git even." 
 
 "But, don't yer think they might nab me?" 
 ventured Hildey nervously. 
 
 "What if they did?" retorted the other. 
 "There's nuthin' ag'in yer on the police record,
 
 330 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 'cept lyin' 'bout my bein' dead, an' that wouldn't 
 count." 
 
 "All right, pard, gimme yer coat an' hat. See 
 yer later!" and Hildey was off. 
 
 Father and son were now alone in the cave, and 
 for some time neither spoke. Then the elder 
 grew reminiscent, and began to bewail his mis- 
 fortunes. 
 
 "Sence I left the ol' woman five years ago, 
 Tom," he said in a tone intended to convey his 
 sense of a profound grievance, "I ain't had 
 nuthin' but hard luck an' it's 'bout time things 
 changed. I've got one more trick I'm goin' to 
 work round here, an' if it comes out right I'll 
 retire." 
 
 "I hope yer'll win, whatever it is," replied the 
 son with proper filial piety. 
 
 "Have yer got any sand in yer craw?" asked 
 the father. 
 
 "I've got lots; what d'yer want with me?" re- 
 plied the boy. 
 
 "I want to steal that Franklin kid," said Foley 
 briefly. 
 
 "Bully! I'm with yer." Tom spoke with real 
 enthusiasm. "I know her well, an' she'd never 
 'spicion harm from me. She comes by our house
 
 54 WHEN YER GET HER HERE, I'LL DO THE REST" 
 
 Page 33 r
 
 CHRISTMAS EVE 331 
 
 lots o' times an' talks to the ol' woman, an' laughs 
 an' plays round me jest as if I wuz her brother." 
 
 "Then it's dead easy fer yer to bring her down 
 this way," declared his father as the details of 
 the plot grew clear in his mind, "as soon as yer 
 kin, an' when yer get her here, I'll do the rest." 
 
 Foley looked at his watch and said, "Better git 
 back home 'fore daybreak, an' I'll be expectin' 
 yer with the kid mighty soon, but don't blab the 
 plan to nobody."
 
 CHAPTER 'XX 
 
 POOR 
 
 Day was breaking as young Foley entered his 
 home. His mother had just come down stairs, 
 and was starting a fire in the kitchen stove. She 
 was surprised to see her son, and greeted him 
 with: 
 
 "Tom, where have you been all night?" 
 
 "Don't say nuthin', mother, yer could 'a' 
 knock'd me over with a feather yesterday, when 
 dad made such a fool of hisself. I felt so bad 
 'bout it, that I've been walkin' round, an' round, 
 an' round all night." 
 
 "It was simply awful," said the mother, sighing 
 heavily. 
 
 "Orful ain't no name fer it, mum. To think 
 he'd come right in there an' hurt yer feelin's, to 
 say nuthin' 'bout poor Mr. Jebb. Ev'rybody's 
 talkin' 'bout his shameful conduct." 
 
 "Don't say nuthin' more 'bout it, Tom," said 
 the grief-stricken mother. 
 
 "I can't git it out er my head, mum, an' I'm 
 332
 
 POOR LILY 333 
 
 almos' glad he's a-layin' roun' there in the jug 
 fer hittin' my dear ol' frien' Sandy. I think he's 
 gittin' sized up right." 
 
 "It'll be very hard, Tom, for any one to be 
 sorry for him. If your father had had one spark 
 of pity, he wouldn't have waited until I got in 
 church to let us know he was alive. I was so 
 ashamed I could 'a' died right there, an' I'll never 
 be able to hold up my head again in this world." 
 She brushed the fast-coming tears from her eyes, 
 and went about her household duties in a most 
 listless manner. 
 
 Breakfast was now ready, but only Tom had 
 any appetite. Three or four times the mother 
 made efforts to eat something, but without suc- 
 cess, and each time the food was left untasted. 
 With a heavy heart she arose from the table, 
 cleared away the dishes and put the room in order. 
 
 Then, placing her arms about Tom's neck, she 
 said in a voice choked with shame and emotion : 
 
 "It's bad enough that he deserted me, but I 
 could forgive that, because, maybe, I'm not the 
 kind to hold a man like Dennis to his promise. 
 But now he's gone from bad to worse, and is a 
 thief and a burglar, and has brought everlasting 
 disgrace on you, Tom, his own kith and kin, flesh
 
 334 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 of his flesh, and bone of his bone." She was al- 
 most in hysterics, as she pressed the boy to her 
 heart. 
 
 "I wouldn't bother a little bit if I wuz you," 
 was the son's reply, as he squirmed from his 
 mother's embrace. "I'll bet dad isn't botherin'. 
 He orter ketch it, an' he's goin' to ketch it. Colo- 
 nel Franklin sed yesterday he wuz down on him 
 like a pile o' bricks, an' wuz goin' to soak it to 
 him good an' hard, 'cause he believes he wuz in 
 with Hildey to fool yer, an' tried to hold up Mr. 
 Jebb fer money. Makes me laugh, though, how 
 he got fooled," and the hypocrite chuckled al- 
 most too joyously. 
 
 Tom hung about the kitchen, waiting for the 
 news of his father's escape, which he was sure 
 would be brought as soon as the authorities had 
 learned of it. He had not long to wait, for soon 
 a loud rap was heard at the door, and in came Mr. 
 Jebb, much excited and exceedingly nervous. 
 
 "Have you heard the latest, Mrs. Foley?" he 
 asked, breathless. 
 
 "Lor' sakes, Mr. Jebb; what's up now?" ex- 
 claimed the widow, momentarily forgetting her 
 troubles. 
 
 "Foley has escaped!"
 
 POOR LILY 335 
 
 "Escaped? When?" she asked, now all excite- 
 ment and interest. 
 
 "It must have been after midnight. He has 
 been tracked to the railroad station, and the police 
 sergeant has telegraphed a full description of him 
 to Philadelphia, where it is believed he has gone." 
 
 "Why should they think he's gone there?" 
 
 "Because the ticket-seller and station-master 
 both say they talked with a man whose appear- 
 ance tallies exactly with Foley's, even to the but- 
 ton off his coat. He bought a ticket to Philadel- 
 phia, and they saw him get on the train." 
 
 "Good riddance to bad rubbish, an' I guess 
 he'll never come back no more; thank the Lord!" 
 said the widow fervently. 
 
 "I can't agree with you, Mary," objected Jebb. 
 "I'm sorry, for more reasons than one, that he got 
 away. I hoped, after the terrible experience in 
 church yesterday, you would feel that a divorce 
 would now be proper." 
 
 "Propef pr not, Mr. Jebb," she replied, "I'll not 
 have no man a-sayin' that I belonged to him, 
 while I wuz a-wearin' another man's name." 
 
 "Well, little woman, I don't think you are 
 wise," resumed Jebb, "but I love you enough to 
 wait until eternity for you."
 
 336 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "Did yer say the old man bought a ticket fer 
 Philadelphy ?" broke in Tom. "But s'pose he got 
 off at some other station?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jebb, "but the station-master at 
 Baltimore telegraphs that no one got off there, 
 and as that train does not make another stop until 
 it reaches Philadelphia, he must have gone 
 through." 
 
 "It's orful, when yer've got a daddy like 
 that," whimpered the young scalawag, pretend- 
 ing to wipe away the tears. "Yer'll scuse me, 
 won't yer, mum, an' Mr. Jebb? I never felt so 
 bad 'bout anythin' afore, an' I'd like to go off by 
 myself an' have a good cry." 
 
 Melodramatically, and sighing heavily, Tom 
 deliberately went up stairs to his room, where, 
 throwing his arms out with wild exultation, he ex- 
 claimed, "Oh, dad, I'm proud of yer !" 
 
 Then, clenching his fists and shaking them at 
 an imaginary foe, he threw himself on the bed, 
 muttering : 
 
 "Fools, fools, dad is one too many fer yer! 
 Now, if I kin work what the ol' man wants me 
 to, we'll have a double-barreled laugh on the hull 
 caboodle." 
 
 The torpedoes and fire-crackers exploding out-
 
 POOR LILY 337 
 
 side aroused and attracted him to the window, 
 where he watched the children of the neighbor- 
 hood playing with their gifts and toys, for it was 
 Christmas morning. 
 
 "Burn yer !" he said, as if addressing the merry 
 little ones, "how I hate yer all! Yer think ye're 
 happy, but I'm happier than you are 'cause my 
 dad fooled yer." 
 
 Then putting on his hat, he walked slowly 
 down the stairs, and wandered about the streets 
 until he met a group of boys, among whom were 
 Sandy and Gilbert. To them, he put on a long 
 face and lamented that "ev'rybody is happy to- 
 day but me," and continued, "I feel so bad I 'most 
 wish I wuz dead." 
 
 Gilbert tried to cheer up the miserable pretender 
 and gave him a liberal supply of candies, nuts and 
 fire-crackers, while Sandy also shared his gifts 
 with him. 
 
 "If your mother doesn't mind," said Gilbert, 
 "you might come over to our house and make 
 yourself at home to-day. We have lots of every- 
 thing, and will give you a good time. Besides, 
 father has invited the members of our hunting 
 and fishing club to dinner, and I'm sure he'll be 
 glad to have you join us."
 
 338 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I'll come, if yer think I won't be in the way, 
 an' won't spile yer fun ev'ry time yer look at my 
 glum face." 
 
 "Come right along," said Gilbert, determined 
 to make Tom happy, if at all within his power. 
 
 Promptly at one o'clock the Franklin family, 
 with their guests, the Jedge, Leander, Sandy, 
 Dink and the morose young Foley, sat down to 
 eat their Christmas dinner. The table's center- 
 piece was a miniature Lillian, in candy. 
 
 The conversation concerned itself almost 
 wholly with the exploits of the club's memorable 
 hunting trip of Thanksgiving week. 
 
 "Ev'ry time I look at that 'ere candy boat," 
 mused Sandy, "I thinks er the river. I wonder 
 how the river is to-day. Golly, I'd like to see 
 her." 
 
 "So would I," exclaimed Gilbert enthusiastic- 
 ally. 
 
 "I tell you what we will do," suggested Col- 
 onel Franklin. "After dinner, we'll walk to the 
 river, sail up in the Lillian, and then, if it's not 
 too cold we'll fish until sunset." 
 
 "That's a great idee," agreed the Jedge, and 
 the boys cheerfully indorsed the proposition. 
 
 When the meal was over, the two men and the
 
 POOR LILY 339 
 
 boys started for the boat-house. They had gone 
 perhaps half a mile, when Tom Foley said: 
 
 "Colonel, I hope yer'll 'scuse me, but I don't 
 feel right to go a-fishin'. My daddy's actions 
 has kind er upset me so that I jest wants to 
 blubber all the time. So, if yer don't min', I'll 
 go back an' keep mum comp'ny." 
 
 "Why, Tom," kindly spoke the Colonel, "I 
 think it will do you good to go out on the river 
 and get your mind off things. No one blames 
 you for the conduct of your father, and I'm sure 
 you have the sympathy of us all." 
 
 "Yes, I know, but I'm out er gear to-day, an' I 
 don't want er spile yer party. So, good-by," and 
 before Colonel Franklin could interpose further 
 objections, the boy was retracing his steps in the 
 direction of the Franklin homestead. 
 
 Arriving opposite the house, he took position 
 in a near-by alley, where he could keep close 
 watch on the front gate. At intervals, he walked 
 around the square, avoiding, as nearly as possible, 
 all passers-by, and ever returning to his first point 
 of observation. After hours of nervous waiting 
 on his part, little Lillian came out, and Snarley's 
 heart gave a jump. She was alone, and once on 
 the pavement, began to roll a hoop, which Sandy
 
 340 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 had given her that morning. Down the street she 
 tripped, all smiles and happiness. 
 
 Tom watched her until she had turned a cor- 
 ner, then he rushed up the alley to intercept her. 
 When he emerged into the street, he saw her rest- 
 ing on a rustic bench, and hastened to join her. 
 As he came up, he was greeted with : 
 
 "Why, Tom, I thought you went fishing with 
 Gil, and papa, and Sandy, and the rest." 
 
 "No, Lily. I felt so bad 'bout what happened 
 to my dad yest'day I couldn't git up no courage 
 to go," answered the boy with simulated contri- 
 tion. 
 
 "I'm awful sorry, too. Maybe your father is 
 sorry and won't do it any more," continued the 
 little girl reassuringly, looking into his face. 
 
 "I hope he is," whined the young rascal. 
 
 "In Sunday-school, they say you should always 
 forgive. I hope Sandy will forgive your father 
 for striking him, and if he hasn't, I'm going to 
 ask him to." 
 
 "That's very nice of yer, Lily. What d'yer say? 
 let's s'prise Gil, and go down to the landin' an' 
 meet him when he comes in from fishin'," sug- 
 gested Foley, knowing the intense love she had 
 for her brother.
 
 POOR LILY 341 
 
 "I'm afraid to go so far," answered the child, 
 "although I'd like to surprise Gil." 
 
 "Oh, I'll go with yer, an' Gil'll be delighted 
 to see yer. You jest roll yer hoop, an* I'll run 
 alongside of yer all the way," said Snarley coax- 
 ingly. 
 
 "That'll be lovely, won't it? And Gil will be 
 so glad if I come." 
 
 "Cert'nly he will, an' so'll yer father," assured 
 the boy. 
 
 Lillian whipped the hoop rapidly, and Tom 
 kept pace with her. After she had gone several 
 blocks, she was out of breath, and said, "I guess 
 we'd better rest a little bit, Tom." 
 
 "Yes, let's rest," agreed Foley. "Let me carry 
 yer hoop, while we walk." 
 
 She gave him the hoop, then confidingly placing 
 her little hand in his, she said joyously: 
 
 "Gil will be surprised, sure enough, when he 
 sees me coming, won't he?" 
 
 "Yes, he'll be s'prised, you bet!" said the boy, 
 taking a firmer hold of her hand, and accelerating 
 his steps. 
 
 The night was fast approaching and Snarley 
 was leading the child through unfrequented alleys 
 and streets.
 
 342 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I don't remember seeing these streets when I 
 went to the landing, the day I christened the Lil- 
 lian" said she, growing timid. 
 
 "Oh, it's all right; it's really a shorter way 
 than t'other," reasoned Foley. 
 
 "But, Tom, don't you think Gil must be 
 through fishing by this time?" 
 
 "If he is, we'll meet him." 
 
 "But maybe he won't come back this way, and 
 it's getting awful dark." 
 
 "Oh, he'll come back this way, all right." 
 
 "Are you sure?" asked the child doubtingly. 
 
 "Dead sure," answered the other. 
 
 They walked along in silence again for five 
 minutes. 
 
 "Tom, maybe we'd better go back," pleaded 
 little Lillian. "Mama may be worried, for we 
 didn't tell her we were going, and don't you think 
 it is too late to go to the river now?" Then, 
 shuddering, she added, "I'm afraid, Tom; I'm 
 awful afraid." 
 
 "Come on," he said gruffly, grasping her hand 
 viciously, as she drew closer to him, and almost 
 pulling her off her feet. 
 
 "Tom, don't hurt my Hand," she cried, attd 
 made a futile effort to pull away.
 
 POOR LILY 343 
 
 "I ain't a-hurtin' yer. If yer wants ter see yer 
 brother, come on." 
 
 "But, Tom, I can see him at home. Please let's 
 go back. I'm so tired, and we're walking so fast, 
 and my hand pains me so, you're holding it so 
 tight." 
 
 They were now on the shore of the river, dark 
 and desolate in its winter dress. The restless 
 splash of the water sent icy sprays over the child, 
 and, clinging still closer to her treacherous com- 
 panion, she stopped him for a second and begged 
 him to return. 
 
 "Don't be afear'd, nuthin's goin' ter happen to 
 yer," he said, jerking her savagely, and almost 
 breaking into a run at the same time. 
 
 "Oh, Tom, please let's go back," supplicated 
 the child. 
 
 They were now at the old wharf. He gave a 
 low whistle, and, without waiting for an answer, 
 pulled the helpless child through the entrance. 
 Then, groping his way over the slimy stones and 
 through the oozing mud, he dragged the af- 
 frighted little one after him, to the mouth of the 
 cave, and called : 
 
 "Dad, I'm here." 
 
 "Come right in," answered a voice.
 
 344 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "I've got her, an' I got her easy as dirt," said 
 the son, pushing the terrified child into the cave, 
 and then roughly into the arms of his father. 
 
 "Don't yell, yer brat!" said the older, clasping 
 his hand over her mouth, and drawing her bru- 
 tally toward him. "Shut up, or I'll kill yer." 
 
 She stopped crying, and looked at him in 
 amazement. She was trying to solve the mean- 
 ing of it all. 
 
 Dennis Foley pulled out of his pocket a large 
 knife, and keeping the child a prisoner with his 
 knees, opened the blade and held it aloft in the 
 faint gleam of a sputtering candle. Then he 
 hissed into her face : 
 
 "D'yer know what that is? Answer me." 
 
 "It's a knife," said the trembling child. 
 
 "I'm glad yer know one when yer see it," 
 and he clutched her beautiful hair. Pulling her 
 head backward, he raised the long knife threat- 
 eningly. 
 
 "Now hear me," he rasped, "if yer cry, or even 
 speak, unless I sez yer kin, I'll cut yer throat an' 
 throw yer inter the river fer the snakes ter eat. 
 D'yer understan' ?" 
 
 Frenzied with fear, she raised her arms, beg- 
 ging for mercy, and cried in terror:
 
 POOR LILY 345 
 
 "Please don't kill me." 
 
 "It depends on yerself. I won't kill yer, so 
 long as yer obeys me. Don't cry, an' don't talk, 
 an' I'll spare yer life, but if yer do," he glared at 
 the little innocent, "I'll cut yer throat from ear to 
 ear, an' chuck yer inter the river; d'yer under- 
 stan'?" 
 
 She nodded, and covered her face with her 
 hands. 
 
 Foley now called Hildey, who was asleep in the 
 corner, and said, "Cul, we've got to git out er this 
 place jest as quick as possible. It's a durn good 
 place to hide in, but it's no good place f er to nego- 
 tiate fer big money fer the kid. It's too near the 
 city, an' if we're tracked here we'll stand no more 
 chance than a snowball on Beelzebub's gridiron." 
 
 "What's yer lay, Dennis?" questioned Hildey. 
 
 "Move up the river," was the reply. "I knows 
 jest the place where we wouldn't be found in a 
 thousand years, an' where we kin git in and out 
 from ev'ry p'int er the compass." 
 
 "When d'yer want to start?" asked Tom. 
 
 "Right away, afore the town hears the brat's 
 lost. Take what grub yer've got stored away an' 
 we'll make a break right off." 
 
 In ten minutes the abductors, with the stolen
 
 346 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 child, were slowly winding their way along the 
 deserted beach. 
 
 "As soon as we comes across a boat we'll take 
 it an' skip 'long to the place I want ter stop at," 
 broke in Foley. 
 
 It was now very dark. No stars were shining, 
 and it had become bitterly cold. Suddenly voices 
 were heard, and the abductors stopped to listen. 
 They were in a ravine near the magazine landing, 
 not more than fifty feet from the spot where the 
 Lillian was launched. Foley, Tom and Hildey 
 crouched low, and drew the little girl closer. 
 
 The steady dip of oars was heard up stream, 
 and the voices grew plainer. Out of the mingled 
 sounds was heard, "I agrees with Sandy, he's the 
 dirtiest coward as ever went unhung." 
 
 Lillian started, for she recognized the voice of 
 the Jedge, who with Colonel Franklin, Sandy, 
 Dink, Leander and Gilbert, were returning from 
 the sail up the river. 
 
 Foley became frightened, and bending over, 
 hissed into the child's ear: 
 
 "Remember what I tol' yer: if yer utter a 
 sound, I'll kill yer." 
 
 The sailing party meantime had reached the 
 landing and stepped ashore. Sandy and the other
 
 POOR ULY 347 
 
 three boys lowered the sail, rolled and carried it 
 into the boat-house. The whole party then, 
 marching three abreast, with steady step, went up 
 the graveled walk of the old magazine road, sing- 
 ing in unison : 
 
 "Hep Hep- 
 Shoot that nigger if he don't keep step. 
 Hep Hep- 
 Shoot that nigger if he don't keep step." 
 
 While its cadence was continued by Colonel 
 Franklin and the Jedge, the four boys, in march- 
 ing rhythm, sang out cheerily into the crisp cold 
 night : 
 
 "When other lips and other hearts, 
 
 Their tales of love shall tell, 
 In accents whose excess imparts, 
 
 The power they feel so well. 
 There may, perhaps, in such a scene, 
 
 Some recollection be, 
 Of days that have as happy been, 
 
 And you'll remember me." 
 
 The three scoundrels listened, as the voices rose 
 and fell on the air. The child, with the fear of 
 death before her, and in the clutches of her horri- 
 ble captor, gave one convulsive sob and sank 
 swooning at his feet. 
 
 Foley picked her up and, walking quickly, 
 placed her in the very boat her father and
 
 348 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 friends had left but a moment before. He 
 wrapped her in a ragged coat, loosened the hasp 
 of the door on the boat-house, and took out the 
 oars. 
 
 Quickly the captors pushed the craft into deep 
 water, and with muffled stroke moved through 
 the inky waves, a somber specter sneaking along 
 the banks of the sleeping marshes. 
 
 When they neared the upper bridge, Foley 
 ran the boat ashore and abandoned it. Picking 
 up the exhausted and benumbed child, he led his 
 two companions along the causeway and over the 
 road leading to the bridge. 
 
 "That's to take 'em off the scent, when they find 
 the boat's gone," he said. 
 
 Foley, Hildey and Snarley walked down the 
 incline on the other side, and found a narrow 
 path through the meadow. 
 
 "I saw a lot o' skiffs up here a few days ago, 
 when I wuz lookin* roun' here to see how the land 
 lays," Foley whispered, "an* we jest need one 
 now." 
 
 It was soon found, and with Hildey sitting on 
 the bottom of the boat and holding thr child, 
 Foley and his son using the paddles, they went up 
 stream, past the Sycamores, under the Banks, and
 
 POOR ULY 349 
 
 fairly abreast with the giant sentinels of oak and 
 poplar. 
 
 The wind came out of the north, howling 
 through the leafless boughs of the mighty mon- 
 archs of the forest. The last flickering light of 
 the town was left far behind, and darkness, like 
 a great shroud, enveloped river, valley and woods.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 
 
 In due time Colonel Franklin and his party 
 reached home, hungry after their fine sail on the 
 river, and all in high spirits. 
 
 "Where are the women-folks, Delia?" was the 
 Colonel's first question. 
 
 "Gran'ma Franklin, Mis' Nanny, an' Edith 
 done gone to de church dis aft'noon, to help trim 
 de Chris'mas tree fo' to-night," replied the ser- 
 vant, "an' dey sed dey would stay at de pahsonage 
 fo' tea. Lily, I 'spects, rolled her hoop up dar an' 
 is wif 'em." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, if they're all together," 
 said the Colonel. "Jedge, you and the boys sit 
 right down, and we'll have supper in a jiffy." 
 
 The guests needed no second invitation, and 
 thoroughly enjoyed the evening meal. The repast 
 was about concluded when Edith, who had just 
 returned from the parsonage, came in, and called 
 cheerily : 
 
 "Hurry up, Lily, it's time to go to the festival. 
 350
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 351 
 
 They're going to light up the tree at half-past 
 eight, and it's nearly that now." 
 
 "Why, chil', Lily ain't here. She's wif yo' 
 folks," exclaimed Delia. 
 
 "With us ? She hasn't been with us at all," re- 
 sponded Edith. 
 
 "Ain't ben wif you ! She went out to roll her 
 hoop jest befo' dark, an' sed she wuz gwine to 
 de church to see yo' trim de tree an' Lor' sakes ! 
 she orter be dar." 
 
 "Well, we haven't seen her," spoke Edith, with 
 positiveness. 
 
 "It's likely she's at one of the neighbors," ven- 
 tured the Colonel. "At these glad Christmas 
 times it's only natural that the child should be 
 interested in the toys and gifts of her playmates, 
 and no doubt, Delia, if you'll run around to some 
 of the houses, you'll find Lily enjoying herself." 
 
 "I'll fin' her, Muster Franklin, an' I'se gwine 
 to scol' her good an' hard fo' worryin' her ol' 
 mammy." At this she put a shawl over her head 
 and shoulders, and started in search of the absent 
 one. 
 
 "Suppose I go, too," suggested Gilbert, rising. 
 
 "I don't think that's necessary," interposed the 
 Colonel.
 
 352 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "It'll only take me a minute," assured the son, 
 as he began to put on his overcoat. 
 
 "Go if you like then," consented the Colonel. 
 
 "An' if yer don't mind, Miss Deed," volun- 
 teered Sandy, "I'll go up to church with yer, an' 
 then come back an' fetch Lily and Gil." 
 
 "That's a good idea," answered Edith, "bring 
 her right over to the church, and I'll be waiting 
 for you there." 
 
 "I guess I'll go up to my house an' look. 
 Mebbe Lily is playin' with Zorah, an' if she is, I'll 
 come right back an' tell yer," put in Dink. 
 
 Edith, Delia and the three boys departed, leav- 
 ing the Colonel and the Jedge alone, smoking 
 their pipes and discussing the sensational events 
 of the week, in which Dennis Foley was the cen- 
 tral figure. His attempted burglary in the Col- 
 onel's own house was reviewed in detail, as were 
 also his interruption of the wedding and the das- 
 tardly attack upon Sandy. 
 
 "I can't git it through my noddle," broke in the 
 Jedge, as he puffed at his pipe, "how that Foley 
 had the monumental gall to show hisself round 
 here after he had tried to burglarize yer home. I 
 should think he'd a been afear'd he'd be pulled." 
 
 "My theory is," said the Colonel, "that his
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 353 
 
 lucky escape made him feel sure that neither 
 Sandy nor any one else had seen his face, and, 
 therefore, no one would now recognize him." 
 
 "What wuz his lay, I wonder, in breakin' up 
 the weddin' ?" queried the Jedge. "He might 'a' 
 know'd that Mary Foley would never have nuthin' 
 to do with him ag'in, if there wuzn't another man 
 in the universe." 
 
 "He probably did know that, but no doubt he 
 was aware that, as he h?d not been away from her 
 quite the full five years, he was still alive in the 
 eyes of the law, and could claim his rights as her 
 husband. Perhaps, too, he had concocted some 
 rogue's scheme to turn the situation to his own 
 financial profit." 
 
 "Yes, I guess that's so," mused the Jedge, "fer 
 I know Titcomb well 'nuff to say that he would 
 'a' given that feller his bottom dollar, ruther than 
 have him a-hangin' round here, worryin' the wid- 
 der, even if she wouldn't marry him. But his 
 dirty trick was knock'd inter a cocked hat when 
 Sandy seen him, an' I guess that's the last we'll 
 hear o' Dennis Foley." 
 
 "It's hard on Jebb," sympathized the lawyer, 
 "but it simply goes to show the charming incon- 
 sistency of the gentler sex, for, after all, Mary
 
 354 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 could have invoked the law, and obtained her re- 
 lease from the rascal, and thereby made happy 
 the man she loves by marrying him." 
 
 "It's one thing more to be sorry fer, as the 
 monkey sed when he kissed the baboon's sister," 
 remarked the Jedge. 
 
 The conversation at this point was stopped by 
 the appearance of Delia and Gilbert, who de- 
 clared that not one of the neighbors had seen 
 Lillian that afternoon. 
 
 "It seems almost incredible that she could be 
 lost," said the father, "she must be somewhere 
 about here. Perhaps she went to the church, and 
 fell asleep in one of the pews." 
 
 The searching party set out once more, this time 
 accompanied by the Colonel himself, and by the 
 Jedge. At the church they heard from Sandy 
 and Dink that no trace of the child had been 
 found, so the father requested the minister to in- 
 quire of the congregation if the missing one had 
 been seen anywhere. There was no response from 
 those present, and the family and friends began 
 to show grave concern. 
 
 Another effort at finding her was immediately 
 made. The police sergeant was notified, and he 
 sent out a general alarm.
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 355 
 
 All night long, and all the next day the hunt 
 was continued. Wells were explored, basements, 
 cellars and out-of-the-way places were ransacked, 
 lumber yards and coal yards were gone through 1 
 most carefully. In fact, not a foot of the town 
 was left unsearched, but all to no avail, and the 
 once happy home of the Franklins was steeped in 
 sorrow and despair. 
 
 The morning after Lillian's disappearance, Mrs. 
 Foley inquired of the boys in the neighborhood 
 if they had seen anything of her son Tom, who, 
 she declared, had been gone since the previous 
 morning. 
 
 From Sandy she learned that Tom had taken 
 dinner at Gilbert's the day before, but that when 
 the party had started for the river he had dropped 
 out, claiming he was too down-hearted to join in 
 the pleasure. 
 
 "That's the way he acted at home," said the 
 widow, "and it seemed to me it was almost un- 
 nacheral for him to talk against his father, as he 
 did. However, I'm not bothered about him, for 
 he comes and goes just as he pleases, and when he 
 gets good and ready he'll turn up, like a bad 
 penny. I've stopped worryin' about him years an' 
 years ago."
 
 356 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "If I see Tom/' volunteered the boy, "I'll tell 
 him yer want him," and he hurried away. 
 
 The next morning Sandy left home earlier than 
 usual, and on his own account began a search for 
 Lillian. A new theory had taken possession of 
 him, and he started at once for the river. At the 
 magazine gate he chatted with the sentry about 
 the mysterious disappearance, and passed on. 
 When he reached the shore half a mile beyond, 
 he was surprised to find that the padlock on the 
 door of the shed had been pried off, and that his 
 boat was missing. 
 
 Opening the door he saw that his oars and 
 blankets were gone, and he began to feel that his 
 theory might lead him to important discoveries. 
 For fully five minutes he stood motionless, and 
 gazed into the river, buried deep in his own 
 thoughts. Then he soliloquized: "I wonder if 
 Lily's been stolen? S'pose, while we've been 
 searchin' fer her high an' low, Snarley an* the 
 galoot what whacked me jest took the little girl 
 an' carried her off in my boat? That 'ere story 
 'bout Dennis Foley buyin' a ticket for Phila- 
 delphy struck me as fishy when I fust heerd it, 
 an' now I don't believe k a t'all. They couldn't 
 git through the magazine gate 'thout the guards
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 357 
 
 seem' them, an* whoever took my boat either 
 came up the shore or down the shore. 'Tain't 
 likely they came from up shore, 'cause they could 
 V found a hundred boats 'tween here an' the 
 upper bridge." 
 
 Turning around, Sandy started down the beach 
 toward the cemetery. He was studying carefully 
 the ground beyond the point of high tide, and 
 in a few moments reached the ravine where, two 
 nights before, the three abductors had stopped, 
 upon hearing Colonel Franklin and his sailing 
 party approach. 
 
 "Well, I'll be durned," he exclaimed, for in the 
 sand before his very eyes was the impress of four 
 pairs of shoes. Two were evidently those of men, 
 one small enough to be that of a boy, and one so 
 tiny as to convince him it was that of a child. 
 
 "This is the way they come," he continued, 
 "and there wuz three of 'em in the gang besides 
 the little one, an' I'm sure er that." 
 
 He followed the footprints until he reached the 
 old wharf. Peering through the rotten timbers, 
 he said : 
 
 "That's a rum ol' hole. I don't believe Satan 
 hisself would go in there, but I'm goin', an' see 
 what I kin see."
 
 358 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Sandy had no difficulty in entering the cave, 
 which he found strewn with whisky bottles, pieces 
 of bread and newly-picked bones, evidence enough 
 that some one had been there but a short time be- 
 fore. Penetrating deeper in his search, he made a 
 find of the utmost importance. Lying at one side, 
 and near a bed of rags, was an envelop addressed 
 to Dennis Foley, and, on a peg which had been 
 driven into the wall, was hanging an old hat, 
 which he had often seen on Hildey's head. 
 
 Elated at the results of his quest, he began to 
 retrace his steps, and in eager haste he left the 
 cave. Picking his way along the slimy stones 
 under the wharf, he soon neared the outlet and 
 there was startled by the most significant of all 
 his discoveries. Right before him lay the iden- 
 tical hoop which he had given the lost child 
 only Christmas Day, and which bore the in- 
 scription, "From Sandy Goggles to Lillian 
 Franklin." 
 
 Every suspicion now was confirmed, and he was 
 sure he knew the culprits. Taking the hoop, he 
 returned to his boat-house with all possible speed, 
 and leaping into his skiff, paddled up the river, his 
 eyes scanning the marsh lines on either bank of 
 the channel. Arriving at the bridge, he learned
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 359 
 
 by inquiry from the tender stationed there that 
 he had not seen the Lillian coming up stream 
 within the past three days. 
 
 "But," explained the bridge-tender, "I'm only 
 on from six to six during daylight, and of course 
 if anything comes through at night I wouldn't 
 know about it. I'm pretty sure, though, there's 
 been nothing up this way for a month of Sundays, 
 'cept Buck Wesley, who creeped up 'bout two 
 hours ago, following a gang of ducks that uses 
 right over there above Mayhew's Meadows. And 
 the way Buck's been shooting for the last hour, 
 he must be having a time and no mistake." 
 
 "Well, so long," called Sandy. "I guess I'll 
 go up the river a little further and have a look." 
 And once more he took up his paddles. As he 
 came abreast of the Meadows he saw Buck Wes- 
 ley coming out of the creek in his gunning skiff. 
 
 "Is that you, Sandy?" shouted the gunner. 
 
 "That's me," was the boy's answer. 
 
 "Come over here, I want to talk to you," re- 
 quested Buck. 
 
 When Sandy got alongside the hunter's boat, 
 he asked : 
 
 "Well, Buck, what's the trouble?" 
 
 "No trouble, Sandy, but when I come up the
 
 360 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 river this mornin' I ain't been up for three 
 weeks, it's been such pore weather for ducks I 
 seen a bunch of widgeon go down right over here, 
 an' as I skims up by the collard patch t'other side 
 of the bridge, I noticed a boat lyin' in the mud, 
 and when I gits near to her, I knows by the cut 
 of her jib that she's yer Lillian." 
 
 "My Lillian? Wher'd yer say yer seen her?" 
 asked Sandy excitedly. 
 
 "Why, by the collard patch, not fifty yards from 
 the Causeway. She looked like she'd drifted on 
 the marsh. I calc'lated when I got through shoot- 
 in' that I'd pick her up an' take her down to yer 
 landin'. The oars wuz in, an' I guess she must 
 'a' strayed from the shore, through somebody fer- 
 gittin' to tie her up." 
 
 "I'm much 'bliged, Buck," thanked Sandy, "but 
 yer needn't bother. I'll bring her down, an' the 
 next galoot that takes her an* lets her git away 
 from him, is goin* to hear from me." 
 
 Sandy retraced the course he had come, and 
 after turning on the other side of the bridge, had 
 no trouble in finding his boat. She was lying 
 on a sand-bar, but he soon succeeded in floating 
 her and bringing her ashore. 
 
 Safely securing the skiff and the boat, he began
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 361 
 
 another search along the beach, and almost im- 
 mediately was rewarded by finding a knot of blue 
 ribbon, such as he had often seen Lillian wear in 
 her hair. Farther along, he discovered tracks in 
 the sand. These he followed, Indian fashion, up 
 the embankment, lost trace of them for a moment 
 on the hardened surface of the carriage way, but 
 speedily picked them up again in the soft soil that 
 ran downward on the other side. 
 
 Then, it was easy to pursue them along a path- 
 way that led to a graveled beach where a dozen or 
 more skiffs had been drawn up and tied to stakes 
 for the winter. From here on, all further traces 
 were obliterated. 
 
 Thoroughly familiar with all the river craft be- 
 longing there, even to the individual ownership, 
 Sandy noticed at once that one of the boats was 
 missing, and that its painter had only recently 
 been cut. 
 
 "Why, it's Willie Bagner's boat they've got," 
 he said to himself as he recognized which boat 
 was missing, "an' I'll bet my life the scalawags 
 are hidin' somewhere up the river." 
 
 Hurrying back, he rowed to the landing and 
 started in haste for his home, with a plan of rescue 
 fully developed in his mind. He sought out Le-
 
 362 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 ander, Dink and Gilbert, and asked them to call at 
 his house without delay. 
 
 While Sandy's investigation had convinced him 
 that Lillian was stolen, Colonel Franklin had been 
 made to realize the same terrible fact in another 
 and more brutal way. When he reached his office 
 on the same afternoon, he found on his desk a let- 
 ter that read as follows : 
 
 dere sur if U meen bizness i can put U on to 
 whar your dorter is but its goin to kost U sum 
 muney if U evr want to see her agin theres a big 
 gang got her hid where U woodnt find hur in a 
 100 yerze but if U will plank down 10000 dolers 
 sheze yourze if U dont youll nevr see hur no moar 
 if sheze wurth thet much to U U can git her by 
 not blabin to nobudy that yer got this leter an 
 plankin down the rino taint no use fer U to try 
 an git the police on our trax fer one uv the gang 
 is alwayz with the kid an we have sworn to kill 
 her if enny of us is jugged if U meen bizness an 
 will leeve a noat under the big stone in front of 
 the ded tree by oyster shell landin up the river we 
 will git it an rite U where to meet us to bring the 
 muney and git the child member we dont stand 
 fer no trechery an if U squeel we 11 no it and we 11
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 363 
 
 take it out on the kid mums the word if yer want 
 ter see the kid agin c o d an fare deelin is our 
 moto a word to the wize is sufishent 
 
 yourze trooley a frend 
 
 The Colonel was completely unnerved by the 
 horrible knowledge that his little daughter was 
 in the hands of desperate criminals. Without 
 delay he wrote a note offering to pay the money 
 demanded, agreeing to deliver it at any spot they 
 might name, and vowing to share his secret with 
 no one. 
 
 Sealing the missive, he placed it carefully in his 
 pocket, and drove out along the river turnpike to 
 a point about a quarter of a mile from the place 
 designated by the annoymous writer. Tying his 
 horse to a tree, he walked through the woods, and 
 hid the note under the stone mentioned in the let- 
 ter. It was after nightfall when he reached home, 
 where he was met with the heartrending and 
 oft-repeated question, 
 
 "Have you heard anything from Lily?" 
 
 Fearing to betray himself, even to his family, 
 and thus perhaps endanger the life of his child, he 
 was compelled to answer, "No, not a thing." 
 With a heavy heart, he passed into his study.
 
 364 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 Supper was announced shortly afterward, and 
 as the family gathered about the table, the father 
 noticed that his son was not present. 
 
 "Where is Gilbert?" he inquired nervously. 
 
 "Sandy was here and asked Gilbert to come 
 over and spend the night with him," answered 
 Mrs. Franklin. "I hadn't the heart to refuse him, 
 for I don't believe any one has worked harder to 
 find our lost darling than Sandy, and he seems to 
 be the only one that can give Gilbert any conso- 
 lation." 
 
 "I think it's better that the boys stop search- 
 ing," said the father. "They might get them- 
 selves into trouble; it's too dangerous.'* 
 
 "I don't believe you could stop those boys from 
 hunting for Lillian, if they had to go into the very 
 jaws of death," interposed the grandmother. 
 
 "Oh, well," spoke the father; "they must not 
 wear themselves out, and to-morrow, I will tell 
 Gilbert and Sandy to leave the investigation to the 
 police." 
 
 "They'll never do it," objected the grand- 
 mother, "they love Lillian too much. You mark 
 my words." 
 
 At this very moment, Sandy, Leander, Gilbert 
 and Dink were together, in Sandy's little garret
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 365 
 
 room. Sandy closed the door carefully, locked it, 
 and called his companions about him in the middle 
 of the room. 
 
 "Boys," he whispered, "afore I sez anythin', I 
 wants yer to gimme yer word, honor bright, an' 
 cross yer heart three times, that yer won't spout 
 a syllable of what I tells yer to a soul." 
 
 All were agreed, and the boy began : 
 
 "Now, it's this 'ere way. My boat wuz stolen 
 an' left, right below the upper bridge, an' I foun' 
 footprints an' this 'ere piece of ribbon, which Gil 
 knows b' longed to his sister, fer she wore it round 
 her hair. Willie Bagner's skiff's bin stolen, an' 
 I believe the party that took it hez got little Lily, 
 because I foun' the hoop I give her, an' this en- 
 vellup in the same place, an' it seems to me the 
 galoot whose name's on it is hid somewhere up 
 the river, an' I'm goin' after him if I has to go 
 alone." 
 
 "But you won't go alone, while I'm alive," in- 
 sisted Leander, intensely excited. 
 
 "An' I'm goin', too, even if I never come back," 
 added Dink, taking it for granted that he was 
 needed. 
 
 "And you must take me," said Gilbert implor- 
 ingly.
 
 366 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 The four boys grasped one another's hands, 
 and Sandy declared in a solemn tone: 
 
 "We'll stick together to the bitter end." 
 
 "What's your plan ?" asked Leander, with great 
 interest. 
 
 "Without breathin' a word to a soul, to-night 
 about nine o'clock we wants to leave the boat- 
 house, you an' Dink in one skiff, an' me an' Gil 
 in t'other, an' sneak up the river, an' try so no- 
 body won't see us. When we gits to the upper 
 bridge, paddle in as close to the Causeway on the 
 right, as we kin, huggin' the marsh all the way. 
 Jest before we git to Beaver Dam, there's a deep 
 gut that runs 'longside of it fer a hundred yards, 
 or more. Foller me in there, Leander, an' stay 
 hid till I sez move. Don't speak a word, from the 
 time we push off till I sez so. Beaver Dam is the 
 lonesomest creek in the world, an' mebbe Gil's 
 little sister is kept in one of them ol' shacks what 
 muskrat hunters live in, in the spring an' summer. 
 If them galoots is in there, they're mighty apt ter 
 come out late at night, when they don't expec' 
 nobody's roun'. Of course, nacherelly they have 
 some plan about gettin' paid fer little Lily, an* 
 they ain't a-goin' to stay in hidin' without tryin' 
 to find out the lay er the land, an' jest how hot
 
 SANDY TO THE RESCUE 367 
 
 the police is on their trail. My idee is to go an' 
 lay in ambush fer 'em all night. If they don't 
 come out, we'll explore in the mornin', an' if we 
 don't find 'em hidin' roun' Beaver Dam, then 
 we'll lay low all day, an' push up the river to- 
 morrer night. But somehow, I think that's the 
 place they would pick ou,. to hide in. 'Tain't 
 one person out er a million that would know how 
 to git through Beaver Dam without gittin' lost, 
 an' I'm a recollectin' I took Tom Foley through 
 there onct an' that's why I'm goin' there to-night. 
 I knows it so well, I ccruld go through with my 
 eyes she*. 
 
 "Each of us wants his pistol loaded fer keeps, 
 a knife, an' about three yards er rope he can tie 
 round his waist. Let's have a bite o' supper right 
 here in my house, an' then we'll start fer the river, 
 but each feller goin' alone, an' in a different way. 
 Now, remember, no talkin' to nobody, an' let's all 
 say honor bright, an' cross our hearts three times 
 ag'in."
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ON THE RIVER 
 
 Sandy was the first to arrive at the boat-house. 
 Securing the paddles, he put them into the skiffs 
 and watched for his companions. He had not 
 long to wait. Gilbert came in a few moments, 
 then Leander, and shortly afterward, Dink. Not 
 a word was spoken. Sandy motioned Gilbert to 
 sit in the center seat of the Dolly, while he took 
 his accustomed place at the stern. Noiselessly 
 they pushed into the stream, followed by Leander 
 and Dink. 
 
 The tide was going out, and had, perhaps, two 
 hours to ebb. The boys hugged the channel bank 
 on the right, passed under the bridge unnoticed, 
 and kept on their silent and anxious way, mile 
 after mile. Finally, Sandy steered into a creek 
 and glided softly against the mud bank, holding 
 his skiff firmly by driving a paddle into the soft 
 soil. Leander and Dink followed suit. That they 
 might be screened from any one coming out of 
 Beaver Dam, which was separated by a narrow 
 368
 
 ON THE RIVER 369 
 
 strip of marsh-land, they lay flat on the bottom 
 of their boats. 
 
 The night was not especially dark, for the moon 
 was looking through a mist of hazy clouds. It 
 was bitingly cold, and though the boys became 
 numb from the many minutes of inactivity, not 
 one of them moved. For fully an hour they had 
 remained motionless, when faintly over the water 
 was heard the splash, splash, splash, of paddles, 
 far away. 
 
 The searching party were all alert in an instant, 
 and with raised heads, peered cautiously over the 
 top of the marsh line in the direction of the 
 sounds. Hardly a minute had passed, when out 
 of the shadows that hid the entrance to Beaver 
 Dam, there came slowly a skiff into the clear 
 water. It approached to within fifteen feet of the 
 hidden boys, when they recognized a voice, dis- 
 tinctly saying: 
 
 "I hope that guy Franklin's ben up to the land- 
 in' an' left the note where I tol' him to, an' don't 
 try no shenanigan." 
 
 "He ain't goin' to try no flapdoodles with us," 
 was the quick answer. 
 
 "Well, if he knows when he's well off," the 
 first voice resumed, "he'll come round with the
 
 370 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 rhino mighty quick, an' give us no more 
 trouble." 
 
 "I kin see us livin' like gent'men, a' ready." 
 
 "Gent'men born an' " the other began, but 
 the last of his sentence was lost as the boat turned 
 up the river, and the cadence of the paddles died 
 in the distance. 
 
 Sandy waited until the rascals had disappeared 
 around the bend, then shoving his skiff quickly 
 alongside Leander's, he whispered into the lat- 
 ter's ear : 
 
 "Me an' Gil is goin' in to Beaver Dam. Yer 
 knows them two fellers, an' so do I. One of 'em 
 is the feller what whacked me, an' the t'other is 
 that bum Hildey. If they gits here afore I come 
 back, you an' Dink'll have to do somethin' des- 
 p'ret." 
 
 "All right," said Leander, clutching his pistol, 
 "you can trust me." 
 
 Sandy rounded the point that divided the two 
 creeks, and in a short time had paddled past the 
 trees and vines that hung over and partly covered 
 the entrance to Beaver Dam. The boat was man- 
 aged with consummate skill, now left, now right, 
 through the sinuous waterway, and the two boys 
 had gone fully half a mile, when, without warn-
 
 ON THE RIVER 371 
 
 ing, they were rudely jolted as the skiff grated 
 harshly on a bar. Ordinarily, such an incident 
 would have been without effect upon them, but 
 now their nerves were so highly strung, that the 
 noise of the boat rubbing against the gravel 
 seemed as loud as the report cf a cannon. 
 
 Using all possible force, Sandy and Gilbert suc- 
 ceeded in shoving their craft back into the water. 
 Then they pressed forward into the shadow of 
 an embankment on the left, and not a moment 
 too soon did they reach cover, for the door of a 
 hut was thrown open, and the voice of Tom Foley 
 was heard, asking: 
 
 "Is that you, dad?" 
 
 An instant later Snarley was seen standing in 
 the dim light of the doorway, shading his eyes 
 and peering into the darkness. 
 
 "I say, dad, is that you?" came again. "I'll be 
 doggoned if I didn't think I heerd somebody 
 comin'. I guess 'tain't nuthin','' looking anx- 
 iously to the right and left. "I cert'nly does git 
 scared out er my boots aroun' here, though, when 
 I'm left alone. I'm goin' to wake up the brat an* 
 make her keep me comp'ny," and the door closed 
 with a bang. 
 
 He had hardly gone inside when the piteous
 
 372 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 cry of a child was heard, "Please don't beat me, 
 Tom." 
 
 "I ain't beatin' yer; go ahead, dance fer me." 
 
 Sandy and Gilbert were fairly crazed, and in 
 their anger rushed up toward the hut. 
 
 Again came the cry, "Please don't hit me, 
 Tom." 
 
 "Dance, I say," and the sharp swish of a 
 whip was heard. 
 
 It took but a second for Sandy to bound into 
 the room. Surprised and terrified, Foley made a 
 dart for the door, but was met by Gilbert, who, 
 pistol in hand, held him stock still. In despera- 
 tion Snarley reached for a club and ran back of 
 the frightened child in the hope that she might 
 serve as guard against his assailant. Like a flash, 
 Sandy followed, and knocked the cowardly brute 
 senseless with the barrel of his pistol. 
 
 Gilbert ran to his sister, and, taking her up, 
 showered loving kisses upon her. With her arms 
 clasped about his neck and her head nestling on 
 his shoulder, she cried : 
 
 "Oh, Gil, I'm so glad you've come. I've been 
 waiting all this time for you. I knew Sandy 
 would come, because he ain't afraid of robbers, or 
 anybody else, even if he had his hands tied be-
 
 ON THE RIVER 373 
 
 hind him. I've been praying for you every min- 
 ute, and here you are." Again Gilbert pressed his 
 sister to his heart, and kissed her. 
 
 Young Foley was still lying unconscious, as 
 the result of the blow he had received, and Sandy 
 was clutching him tightly by the throat. 
 
 "Take yer sister, little codger," said Sandy, 
 "wrap her up, git in the skiff, an' I'll be with yer 
 as soon as I tie this chuckle-headed idiot fast and 
 tight." 
 
 Gilbert left the Hut with* Lillian, while the 
 other boy remained behind long enough to 
 loosen the rope around his waist, and bind the 
 young ruffian securely. Then he placed him in a 
 corner of the room. Locking the door behind 
 him, Sandy joined Gilbert in the skiff, and to- 
 gether they paddled furiously out of the creek 
 into the river. 
 
 The moon was up in all her splendor, and ob- 
 jects on the water were plainly visible for some 
 distance. Lillian was seated in the bow, facing 
 the two boys at the paddles. Leander and Dink 
 fell in the wake of Sandy's skiff, about ten yards 
 in the rear. 
 
 As the party reached the middle of the channel, 
 a skiff came into view from the bend, a short way
 
 374 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 above, and steered directly toward them. With a 
 cry, Lillian stood up: 
 
 "Oh, Gil, here come those two bad men that 
 took me away." 
 
 The boys turned, and they, too, recognized 
 Dennis Foley and Hildey as the occupants of the 
 approaching boat. 
 
 "Lie flat, little one," whispered Sandy, "an* 
 don't move till I tells yer." 
 
 The child obeyed, but already Foley and his 
 partner had espied her, and it was evident they 
 were using all their efforts to catch up. Leander 
 now called : 
 
 "It's the same gang, Sandy, that came out of 
 the creek. What shall we do?" 
 
 "Paddle fer all ye're worth," was shouted back. 
 
 "Hold up, or we'll shoot," yelled Dennis Foley. 
 
 With that a pistol-shot was heard coming from 
 the direction of the pursuers, but the bullet went 
 wide of its mark, and the boys sped on. 
 
 "Dpn't waste yer load unless yer have to," cau- 
 tioned Sandy, " 'cause yer won't have time to put 
 in 'nother, an' I don't want er draw their fire, fer 
 fear they might hit Lily." 
 
 The race had become one of life and death. 
 The boys strained to the utmost their strong
 
 ON THE RIVER 375 
 
 young muscles, and, with paddles bent almost 
 double, drove their little craft like the wind be- 
 fore them. Down past Turtle Creek they flew; 
 Licking Banks were soon left behind, and shortly, 
 they were alongside the Sycamores. Dink looked 
 back over his shoulder, and whispered: 
 
 "We ain't gained on 'em a bit, an' they seem 
 to be goin' strong." 
 
 When the Meadows were reached, Dink said 
 again : 
 
 "They're comin' like everythin'." 
 
 "Don't weaken," urged Leander; "as long as 
 we're between them and Sandy's skiff, they'll 
 have to kill us before they can get to Lillian." 
 
 The moon was casting its light on the waters 
 like a great silvery path, and the splashing of the 
 paddles was the only sound that awakened the 
 echoes. Again came the sharp report of a pistol, 
 and Dink dodged, as if by instinct. He wheeled 
 in his seat and shot point-blank at Foley, but the 
 ball imbedded itself in the side of the skiff be- 
 hind and did no further damage. 
 
 "That's tit for tat," said Dink, "but it wuz a 
 mighty close call fer me. When the bullet 
 whizzed past my ear I thought I was plugged, 
 sure."
 
 376 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 There were now not more than fifteen yards 
 between the boys and their pursuers. Turning 
 about, Leander saw Hildey raise his pistol and 
 take careful aim at him. Quick as thought, the 
 boy fired first, and Hildey uttered a sharp cry of 
 pain, as his right arm fell helpless, and his pistol 
 dropped into the water. 
 
 "Curse the luck!" muttered Foley. "Don't 
 give up, pard; we'll ketch 'em afore they git 
 much further." 
 
 Though Hildey's right arm was useless, he 
 plied the paddle with his left, and the men con- 
 tinued to gain. As the boys passed through un- 
 der the bridge, Leander's boat was abreast of 
 Sandy, who whispered: 
 
 "I'll take the swash on the right that goes 
 through the big marsh and comes out at the 
 Devil's Elbow. You hug the channel bank, an' 
 mebbe we'll fool 'em." 
 
 Sandy knew that, after the river left the bridge, 
 it went almost southerly for half a mile, then 
 made an abrupt turn at right angles, pursued its 
 way westward for another quarter of a mile, and 
 then met the swash channel, which cut diagonally 
 through the big marsh. At this junction of the 
 two streams a whirlpool called the Devil's Elbow
 
 ON THE RIVER 377 
 
 had been formed, a treacherous spot for small 
 craft, and requiring rare skill to pass in safety. 
 
 When Sandy told Leander to take the main 
 channel, it was with a desperate hope that Foley 
 and Hildey would be in douot, for the moment, 
 which skiff to follow as they came out under the 
 bridge. Within himself, he reasoned that this 
 hesitation, on their part, would consume suffi- 
 cient time to permit the boys to gain a lead and 
 reach in safety the landing, two miles below. 
 
 "The chances are jest even-Stephen," he said to 
 Gilbert, "though it separates us from Leander, 
 till we reach the Devil's Elbow." 
 
 But alas ! Sandy's reasoning failed him for once 
 this time. 
 
 As Foley and Hildey came through under the 
 bridge, the former cried : 
 
 "Steer to the right channel an' f oiler that boat; 
 that's the one the kid's in." 
 
 "They're after us, darn 'em," said Sandy, "but 
 we're gittin' ahead bully. Keep it up, Gil, an' 
 we'll come out all right, see if we don't." 
 
 Dripping with perspiration, and with hands 
 burned and blistered, Sandy and Gilbert were 
 forging ahead and gaining on their pursuers, 
 straining every nerve to increase their lead. As
 
 378 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 they rounded a bend in the channel, Hildey 
 shouted : 
 
 "There's yer chance to plug 'em, pard. Shoot !" 
 
 Foley obeyed, and the boys' skiff, which was a 
 metallic one, was bored through by the pistol ball. 
 The water poured through the hole, and Sandy 
 shouted to Gilbert : 
 
 "Drop yer paddle; take yer hat an' put it over 
 the leak, tight as yer kin ; bale out with the other 
 hand, or we'll sink in a minit. Lily, sit up, so 
 yer won't get wet; but don't show yer head," 
 and with a courage born of despair, Sandy re- 
 newed his efforts. 
 
 Foley was gaining rapidly, and it seemed that 
 only a miracle could prevent the boys' capture be- 
 fore they reached the Devil's Elbow. 
 
 Three minutes passed with only the sound of 
 the lightning-like dip of the paddles. Another 
 short bend in the channel, and a hundred yards 
 ahead was the confluence of the two currents, 
 which were ever at war. 
 
 "Keep on bailing, Gil," cried Sandy, "an' when 
 we git past the Elbow, if they're too close to us, 
 I'm goin' to use my pistol on 'em, but I don't 
 want ter shoot till I can make the shot tell fer all 
 it's worth. Steady, Lilyj hold tight, Gil; don't
 
 ON THE RIVER 379 
 
 move, I'll git yer through without swampin', 
 'cause I knows every current in the Elbow." 
 
 Through the mad swirl of waters the boy held 
 his boat, and steered her into the quiet tide be- 
 yond. 
 
 Leander and Dink were just turning the bend 
 of the main channel an eighth of a mile away, 
 and the skiff containing Foley and Hildey had 
 reached the outer current of the eddy. 
 
 "Now you've got 'em," yelled Hildey, as 
 Sandy's skiff veered to the left, not twenty yards 
 from the other. 
 
 "Not if I knows it," cried Sandy as he shot 
 square at Foley, the ball going through the sleeve 
 of his coat, but leaving him unharmed. 
 
 "Curse yer fer a fool !" came from Foley, drop- 
 ping his paddle and standing up in the skiff, which 
 now had nothing to guide it but Hildey's ex- 
 hausted arm. The skiff was rocking violently. 
 Foley attempted to balance himself as he raised 
 his pistol to shoot. In a flash the frail craft was 
 caught in the conflicting currents, it careened and 
 capsized, and the two men were battling for life 
 in the whirlpool. 
 
 Sandy was so intent on escape that he had gone 
 some distance down stream before realizing he
 
 3So PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 was no longer pursued. Suddenly an agonizing 
 cry was borne on the midnight air: 
 
 "Help! Help! I'm drownin'!" 
 
 The boy rested on his paddle, and scanned the 
 river in the direction of the voice. 
 
 "Don't let's let 'em drown like rats in a hole," 
 said Sandy, and he started his boat back toward 
 the bend. 
 
 "Gil, gimme yer pistol. They may be tryin' to 
 play some trick on us, an' if they are, we'll be 
 ready for 'em." 
 
 The precaution was unnecessary, for when they 
 came near, they saw the upturned skiff circling 
 around in the eddy, its paddles bobbing with the 
 waves, and the hats of Foley and Hildey slowly 
 drifting toward the bank. 
 
 Leander and Dink, meanwhile, had come up, 
 and with the other two boys remained for fully 
 half an hour waiting for some sign of the two 
 robbers, but in vain; for far beneath the surface 
 of the water in the maddening current, the ill- 
 spent lives of Foley and Hildey were ended. 
 They were dead in the cruel embrace of the 
 Devil's Elbow.
 
 GOOD-BY 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine that there was a 
 sensation when Pipetown awoke the next morn- 
 ing and learned that Lillian had been rescued, and 
 was safe in her father's house. 
 
 Over and over, the four boys were compelled by 
 admiring listeners to relate their adventures, and 
 the minutest detail was seized upon with avidity. 
 
 Sandy, of course, was the center of interest, be- 
 cause it was he who had conceived the daring ex- 
 pedition. When asked at Jebb's store, the night 
 after the rescue, how he came to hit upon the 
 river as offering a possible solution of the mys- 
 terious disappearance, he replied: 
 
 "It's this 'ere way. I wouldn't 'a' thought so 
 much 'bout it, if Dennis Foley hadn't sawed his 
 way out er jail, an' Snarley hadn't turned up miss- 
 in', jest 'bout the time Gil's little sister couldn't 
 be found. I jest put two an' twice tergether, an' 
 after a while I makes up my mind she wuz up 
 there, an' up there she wuz." 
 38'
 
 382 PIPETOWN SANDY 
 
 "That 'ere act o' Sandy's," remarked the Jedge, 
 "in goin' right to the bull's-eye of a thing without 
 knowin' where it is, is what scientific men calls 
 'sagacipusness an' particular conclusion,' which 
 words is too whoopin' big fer plain folks, so we 
 calls it common-sense, which reminds me that, 
 when it comes to lookin' through a grindstone 
 as fur as the next feller, combined with grit, men- 
 tality an' hang-on, them four boys rolled together 
 seem more like me when I wuz their age, than 
 anybody I ever seen." The Jedge lighted his pipe, 
 and smoked away in silence. 
 
 When the June roses bloomed again, Mr. Jebb 
 and Widow Foley were quietly married, for, in 
 the words of the Jedge, the widow was a widow 
 and no mistake this time. 
 
 Colonel Franklin persuaded Mrs. Goggles and 
 Dink's parents to accept a scholarship for their 
 two boys in the preparatory school selected for 
 his son Gilbert. 
 
 It was the first of September. Four boys, sur- 
 rounded by relatives and friends, were in the rail- 
 road station; one on his way to Annapolis to be- 
 come a middy; the other three starting to attend 
 a school in the North. 
 
 As the train slowly steamed away, amid the
 
 GOOD-BY 383 
 
 waving of handkerchiefs and cries of "Good-by," 
 a group stood on the platform of the last car, arm 
 in arm, shoulder to shoulder, Leander and Dink, 
 Gilbert and 
 
 PIPETOWN SANDY. 
 
 END
 
 A STORY BY THE "MARCH KING" 
 
 THE 
 FIFTH STRING 
 
 By JOHN PHILIP SOUSA 
 
 The " March King" has written much in a musical way, 
 but " The Fifth String " is his first published story. In the 
 choice of his subject, as the title indicates, Mr. Sousa has 
 remained faithful to his art; and the great public, that has 
 learned to love him for the marches he has made, will be as 
 delighted with his pen as with his batoa. 
 
 "The Fifth String" has a strong and clearly defined 
 plot which shows in its treatment the author's artistically 
 sensitive temperament and his tremendous dramatic power. 
 It is a story of a marvelous violin, of a wonderful love and of 
 a strange temptation. 
 
 A cover, especially designed, and six full-page illustra- 
 tions by Howard Chandler Christy, serve to give the dis- 
 tinguishing decorative embellishments that this first book by 
 Mr. Sousa so richly deserves. 
 
 With Pictures by Howard Chandler Christy 
 12 mo. Price, $1.25 
 
 The Bobbs-Merrill Company, Indianapolis
 
 CENTRAL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 University of California, San Diego 
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 NOV 28 IQfifi 
 
 
 NOV 1 5 19ob 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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