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diff --git a/old/wagtl10h.htm b/old/wagtl10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..227353a --- /dev/null +++ b/old/wagtl10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2555 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<title>W.A.G.'S TALE</title> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII"> +<style type="text/css"> +<!-- +body {margin:10%; text-align:justify} +img {border: 0;} +blockquote {font-size:14pt} +P {font-size:14pt} +--> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of W. A. G.'s Tale, by Margaret Turnbull + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: W. A. G.'s Tale + +Author: Margaret Turnbull + +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9844] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 23, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK W. A. G.'S TALE *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Rebekah Inman +and the PG Distributed Proofreaders + + + + + +</pre> + +<center> + +<img alt="titlepage.jpg (27K)" src="titlepage.jpg" height="625" width="483"> + + +</center> +<br><br><hr><br><br> +<center> +<h2> +CONTENTS</h2></center> + +<center> +<table summary=""> +<tr><td> + + +<p> +PREFACE BY AUTHOR</p> + +<p> +I. <a href="#01">UNCLE BURT'S BILLY</a><br><br> +II. <a href="#02">OUR HOUSE</a><br><br> +III. <a href="#03">OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR</a><br><br> +IV. <a href="#04">ON THE TOWPATH</a><br><br> +V. <a href="#05">ON THE DELAWARE</a><br><br> +VI. <a href="#06">GEORGE</a><br><br> +VII. <a href="#07">LEFT ALONE</a><br><br> +VIII. <a href="#08">AT TURNER'S</a><br><br> +IX. <a href="#09">THE WHITE TENT</a></p> + +</td></tr> +</table> +</center> +<br><br><hr><br><br> +<center> +<h2> +ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> +</center> +<br> + +<p>A ZOBZEE</p> + +<p>ON THE BRIDGE</p> + +<p>HE JUMPED OUT AND TOOK A ROPE AND PULLED THE BOAT CLOSE</p> + +<p>SHE WASHED AND I DRIED</p> + +<p>HE TURNED AND WENT INTO THE WHITE STONE HOUSE, AND ALL THE CATS RAN +AFTER HIM</p> + +<p>HE SMOKED A PIPE, AND I PLAYED WITH ALL HIS TEDDY-CATS</p> + +<p>BRINGS HIM DOWN, PERSIMMONS AND ALL</p> + +<p>SO I TOOK MY FISHING-ROD AND FLICKED IT AT HIM</p> + +<p>NEVER YOU MIND, BABY DEAR, COME ON</p> + +<p>WHAT'S AN ABSENT-MINDED BEGGAR?</p> + +<p>HEY, ROBINSON CRUSOE, HERE'S YOUR MAN FRIDAY</p> + +<p>HE HAD TO TAKE A CAN-OPENER AND CUT AUNTY EDITH'S FOOT OUT</p> + +<p>WE ALL WORKED WITH HOSE AND EVERYTHING</p> + +<p>AUNTY MAY GOT A HATCHET AND MADE A CHOP AT THE SNAKE</p> + +<p>I BELIEVED THEY HAD REALLY GONE AWAY, AND LEFT ME ALL ALONE</p> + +<p>I TOLD HIM ALL ABOUT AUNTY MAY</p> + +<p>SLID DOWN WITHOUT A BIT OF NOISE</p> + +<p>I WOKE UP AND FOUND MYSELF LYING ON THE PORCH</p> + +<p>AND IT WAS UNCLE BURT</p> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> +<center> +<h1> +W.A.G.'S TALE</h1></center> + +<br><br> +<h2> +PREFACE BY THE AUTHOR</h2> + +<p>I have been sick. Now I am better the Doctor makes me lie in bed because +of all that Anti-toxin he put in me, which weakens the heart. Anti-toxin +isn't a lady, it's a medicine for diphtheria. Aunty May is a lady. She +reads me books and plays games with me. But I am tired of books written +about nature, and animals, and Indians, and fairies, and I wished out +loud that somebody would write a book about a boy, just like me. So +to-day Aunty May brought me a big, thick blank book with red covers, and +with rings at the back to let me add more paper when I want to, and she +told me to write my own story, a little every day.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="008.jpg (5K)" src="008.jpg" height="275" width="146"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>So that's what I am going to do, and illustrate it with "Zobzees." +"Zobzees" are thin dancing people—like this. I invented that name, and +a country and a language for them, which only Aunty May and I know. But +I am not going to write my book in that. I am going to print it, like +other books, but draw "Zobzees" because they are easy; and if nobody +else reads it except me and Uncle Burt when he comes home, it will be +fun for us, anyway.</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="01"></a><br><br> + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<br> +<h3> +UNCLE BURT'S BILLY</h3> +</center> +<br> + +<p>My name is William Ainsworth Gordon, and my initials spell W.A.G. That +is why Aunty May and I call this book "W.A.G.'S TALE." If it was about a +dog it would be "Tail Wags." So it's true and a joke too.</p> + +<p>I am ten years old and my father and mother are in Heaven, and I have +only Uncle Burt to take care of me. Uncle Burt isn't my real uncle, but +he was my father's chum when they were at West Point, and he promised +father to take care of me. And he does, only he had to go to the +Philippines with his soldiers; so his sister, Aunty Edith, is taking +care of me until he comes back. Everybody else calls me William, but he +calls me "Billy," so I am the one this chapter is named after.</p> + +<p>Aunty May says I can begin with the very day Aunty Edith brought me down +here. That was the day Uncle Burt went away to join his regiment, and +everybody was sort of quiet, and even the big people cried a little. I +cried a good deal, when nobody was looking, and when Uncle Burt caught +me at it in the corner of the room, he didn't say a word, but just +picked me up and held me so tight that one of his buttons got stamped +on my cheek like a seal. He said he'd give way and cry, too, for it was +good for the eyes, only his Colonel had expressly ordered him not to, +saying he would leave all red-eyed men home, which would be terrible for +a soldier. So I begged him not to give way, and he said he wouldn't if +I'd stop, because one fellow bawling makes it hard for the other fellow +not to. So I stopped and we laughed a little, and then he showed the +mark on my cheek to Aunty Edith, and said, "This shows that this young +man belongs to me, so be careful of Uncle Burt's Billy and return him in +good condition, for there will be a dreadful time if I find him chipped +or broken, when I come back."</p> + +<p>Then the lady I call Aunty May, though she isn't any relation to me +either, but is just Aunty Edith's friend, laughed and said she would be +careful to treat me nicely. And she has. I like her best next to Uncle +Burt. She didn't cry. She laughed a lot, and every time Uncle Burt got +sad and tried to talk to her, she laughed more, and she took me on her +lap and kept me there all the time Uncle Burt was saying good-bye +to her.</p> + +<p>He looked more like crying then than any other time. He said, +"Good-bye, May; won't you change your mind?" and she said, "Oh, no, +Burt, I can't." Then he was going to say something else when I said, +"Remember the Colonel, Uncle Burt, and don't get your eyes too red to +go," and then they both laughed. Uncle Burt said, "Look after Miss Heath +for me, Billy, while I'm gone," and I said, "Sure I will. I'm going to +adopt her as my Aunty, too." She put her arms round me and hugged me and +Uncle Burt said, "Lucky Billy," and then the door closed, and Aunty +Edith began to cry and Aunty May looked queer for a minute and went to +the door. I thought she'd run after him, but she stopped and said, +"Come along, Sir William, and we'll pack our bags, 'cause we're all +going to the country on the 3.10." And I took hold of her hand, and we +went upstairs together, and packed my bag and put in my gun, my +soldiers, my books and my paint-box. Then Aunty Edith stopped crying and +tied a veil over her face. If she'd been a soldier she'd been left home +all right.</p> + +<p>We got in a taxi with a lot of bags and things and went to the +Pennsylvania Station, which is miles and miles long, I think, but there +are lots of kind black men who wear red caps and run up and take your +bags and carry them for you just as easy, One of them took my bag and +Aunty May's suitcase, but Aunty Edith had another one—a fat one—all +alone for her things.</p> + +<p>We just had time for our train, so we had to hurry right through the +waiting-room, and I couldn't stop and see all the things there are to +see, or watch the people coming down the stairs. People's legs are funny +if you watch them coming down—like things made with hinges.</p> + +<p>Then we got into a nice big train with chairs in it that swung round. +They call it a "Pullman" which is a good name for a car, only it's the +engine that pulls the man and the car, too, really. Then we got all +comfortable, with another nice colored man who showed his teeth at us, +and put our bags up on a rack, and Aunty May gave me some sweet +chocolate and a magazine with pictures in it, and Aunty Edith said. "I +wish we didn't have to change at Trenton,"—and—then—I fell asleep.</p> + +<p>The next thing I knew Aunty May was saying to me, "Wake up, Billy, dear, +it's Trenton now." She put on my jacket and the man took our bags again +and we stepped out on a big platform, and then another man took all our +bags and we went up one stair, and down another, and waited on a long +platform, where trains kept shooting up every minute.</p> + +<p>I couldn't understand what the man in uniform said, until at last a +funny little train—all short, only half as long as our New York one, +and with funny, hard straight seats—came, and we climbed in. Aunty +Edith and Aunty May and me had to carry our own bags and fix 'em. The +train waited a long time, but at last it moved, and Aunty May put her +arm round me and sat me next the window, only it wasn't open, because it +was only April and wasn't warm enough yet, and said, "Now we're off to +East Penniwell."</p> + +<p>The train just crawled along, and there was a big canal on the one +side. I saw a canal boat with two men and a dog on it, and they were +cooking something in a big pot on the top of a stove that stood right +out of doors, on top of the boat, with a stovepipe that didn't go into +any chimney, but right up into the air—with smoke coming out of it!</p> + +<p>I showed it to Aunty May and she said, "You will see them every day when +we get to the towpath," and I felt awful glad at that, because though +the boat moved slow, the train moved fast, and I didn't get a good look +at the boy who was driving the mules. I couldn't be sure whether he'd +made a face at me or not, but I think he did.</p> + +<p>Then by and by on the other side of the train came a great big river, +all fast and running along and some bubbling-up places in it where rocks +stood up. Aunty May said those were rapids and this was the Delaware +River, the one Washington crossed.</p> + +<p>I think more of him than ever, now I've seen the river, for it's good +and wide and it must have been a cold job getting over it. I told Aunty +May I hoped it wasn't at the rapids he tried to cross, and she said, +"Oh, no," and "I'll show you," and presently the train stopped and the +conductor said, "Washington's Crossing," There was a big tree, where he +could have tied a boat if he'd wanted to. Aunty May said maybe he did; +and a white house where I guess the soldiers got something to eat and +drink. Anyway, I hoped so. Aunty May said she'd never asked, so she +couldn't say, positively, as it was so long ago, but it wouldn't hurt to +think they did. So I imagined it that way.</p> + +<p>Then our train stopped at a station and we got out. I hadn't been ready +for its stopping, and I got so busy getting my things on, and getting my +bag in my hand, that I didn't hear the name of it, and I asked Aunty May +if it was East Penniwell, and she said, "Oh, no, this is Scrubbsville, +New Jersey, and East Penniwell is in Pennsylvania."</p> + +<p>"Will we get into another train, then?" I asked, and Aunty May laughed +and said, "Oh, no, just wait and see." Then we got off and walked down, +carrying our bags, to a big bridge right over the Delaware.</p> + +<p>There was a man sitting, at the end of the bridge, in a little house +with a window in it, and you paid him two cents apiece before you could +get on the bridge to go to Pennsylvania. He is the Toll-Man and it is a +Toll-Bridge, and it seemed to me very funny to have to pay to walk. +Aunty May said it was funny, too, but Aunty Edith said it was +a nuisance.</p> + +<p>Aunty Edith asked the Toll-Man if we could leave our big suitcase +there, until Mr. Tree the grocer came over with a wagon for our trunks, +later, and he said, "Yes." He was a nice smiling man.</p> + +<p>Then Aunty Edith and Aunty May and I, and Aunty Edith's bag and my +little one, which Aunty May carried because she said we had a long walk +ahead of us, went over the bridge.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="023.jpg (15K)" src="023.jpg" height="196" width="519"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>The wind almost blew my cap away, but I caught it just in time, and on +the bridge we met a big man carrying a paint-box and a folding-up +stool, like Aunty Edith has, and he had an E-normous dog, as big as me, +and it galumphed at me, and I got behind Aunty Edith, for she is very +big both ways, and the man said, "Down, Pete," When the dog downed, he +shook hands with Aunty Edith, and she introduced him to Aunty May and +me, and he said he was glad to see us, and I could come and play with +his children up the towpath.</p> + +<p>I said, "Yes, sir," but Aunty May and me kept away from Pete, because we +didn't know him then. We know him now and like him. The man said, "Wait +till I get back and I'll take you up in the launch." Then he went on to +Scrubbsville, and Aunty Edith said, "Such a pleasure to meet Mr. Turner. +Now William won't get tired walking up. Won't that be nice, William, to +go up the canal in the launch, instead of walking?" I said, "Yes, 'm, +Aunty Edith," to her, but to Aunty May I said, "Will that Pete be in the +boat, too?" and Aunty May whispered back, "Ow Gracious! I hope not. But +don't let him know we're afraid, old man." So I took her hand tight and +we followed Aunty Edith, who is an awful fast walker and always has so +many things to do.</p> + +<p>First we went to the Post-Office, which is a little wooden building, +and the Postmaster knows everybody and looks at you over his glasses. +Then we went up a funny street with brick pavements, awful old. There +are houses on that very street built before the Revolution, and a big +cannon in the square. We went to Mr. Tree's, and he's a nice, big grocer +man, with everything in his shop, and he patted me on the head and gave +me a chocolate candy, which Aunty Edith said I might eat, if I ate it +slowly. He said he would bring our trunks and bags up right away. Aunty +Edith said, "Now I've got to order oil from Tryer and coal from Quick +and some thread from Miss Macfarland's notion store," and I said, "Why +don't the servants do all that, Aunty Edith?" She laughed and said, +"There are no servants for us at East Penniwell, William; we do the work +ourselves," Aunty May said, "But it will be fun, Billy. All the artists +like Aunty Edith live that way down here, and you and I will be the +writer people and we'll do lots of funny things together. Only, Edith," +she said, "the boy and I are weary; where can we rest while you finish +your shopping?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," Aunty Edith said; "come and I'll show you the launch +and you can get in that and sit and wait for Mr. Turner."</p> + +<p>We walked up a funny, hilly, crooked street, with partly brick +pavements again and partly stone, till we came to an old wooden bridge +over a canal, and then Aunty May squeezed my hand and said, "Billy, this +is our canal," We crossed the bridge, and went down a few steps and +there was Mr. Turner's launch. We got in and sat and watched the water +and made up stories to each other, till Aunty Edith and Mr. Turner came, +all full of bundles. Mr. Turner started the launch and we went +chug-chugging along. But Pete didn't get in. He swam part of the time +and ran and barked on the towpath the other part.</p> + +<p>The canal boats came down past us, and they began to have lights on +them, and the trees were all green and hung down by the canal banks, and +I could see where the dogwood was beginning to come out in the woods. +There were some ducks swimming in the canal, and a farmhouse high above +us on the bank. Then nothing but the towpath, which is the path on one +side of the canal where the mules walk when they drag the canal boats.</p> + +<p>By and by I saw two tiny white houses, with their roofs and chimneys +sticking up over the canal bank, and one of them had a funny green door, +and honeysuckle all growing over the fence. Mr. Turner never stopped +till Aunty Edith called, "Oh, we're going past," Then he stopped and +jumped out and took a rope and pulled the boat close to the bank, where +there were some stones placed like steps. I saw the two houses plainly +then, one a white stone one and one a white wooden one with a +green door.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="030.jpg (31K)" src="030.jpg" height="368" width="600"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>We all stepped out, with our bags, and said good-bye to Mr. Turner, and +his launch went away up the canal past us, and Aunty Edith took a key +out of her pocket and went down a step, into the garden of the house +with the green door, and opened it, and said to Aunty May and me, "Come +in, children. This is OUR HOUSE."</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="031.jpg (19K)" src="031.jpg" height="319" width="593"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><hr><a name="02"></a><br><br> + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<br> +<h3> +OUR HOUSE +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + +<p>Aunty May and I went inside, and we looked at each other and laughed. It +was small, like a doll's house, and the room we stepped into, through +the doorway, had a window the same side as the door, which looked out on +the towpath, and two windows at the back, and a stovepipe coming right +out of the floor and running up through the low ceiling.</p> + +<p>When I went and looked out of the back windows, I called to Aunty May, +"Oh, see, it's the Delaware." And it was.</p> + +<p>There, right at the foot of our back garden, under the willow trees, was +the Delaware River, running along, very fast.</p> + +<p>I said, "Come on, let's go down to the river, Aunty May." But Aunty +Edith said, "First, look at the house."</p> + +<p>We went through a little door into another long, narrow, low room, with +a window on the towpath and a window on the river, and a queer +old-fashioned bureau and two iron beds in it, and a clothes-horse, in +one corner, covered with muslin. When you opened one flap of it, it was +a closet. This was Aunty Edith and Aunty May's room.</p> + +<p>In the other room, with the stovepipe in the middle of it, was a big +couch, and that was to be my bed at night. There was a big closet at one +end, made out of the place where the steps went up to the attic, and +that was where my clothes were to hang. One side of the room had +bookshelves, and on the wall were some of Aunty Edith's paintings; and +there was a doorway at one end without any door.</p> + +<p>I said to Aunty Edith, "How do we get to the river from this house? Do +we have to go out of the front door and run down? And where's the stove +that the pipe belongs to? Is it in a cellar?" Then both the aunties +laughed, and they went to this doorway without any door, and there was a +funny thing that looked like a clumsy ladder. Aunty Edith told me those +were our best stairs, and that once they were canal boat stairs.</p> + +<p>Well, you climbed down them very carefully, for they tipped a little, +and you landed on a dark little landing with a door. You opened the door +and stepped down a step and there you were in the nicest old kitchen +you ever saw!</p> + +<p>The top part of the house was wooden, but this under part was of stone +and cement, and the walls inside were cement, and the ceiling was just +wood with the big floor beams showing through. And there was a door with +glass in the top, that you could look through down to the river and the +willows; and there was a window with a deep window seat you could sit in +and look at the river; then there was a long window at the side, where +the outside steps came down from the towpath, and that opened in two +halves and had narrow panes of glass. It looked out on a garden.</p> + +<p>A big cook-stove, with a kettle steaming on it, was at one end of the +room; and a nice big table, and there were some comfortable chairs, and +pots and pans hanging over and under the mantel back of the stove.</p> + +<p>There was a rug on the floor, and a pantry with lots of good things to +eat in it, and a big couch that I sat down on, and looked around.</p> + +<p>There was a little place in the wall, too, that had once been a window, +but was closed up and made into a little cupboard for dishes.</p> + +<p>I said, "My! isn't this lovely?" Aunty May squeezed my hand and said it +was, and Aunty Edith looked around and said, "Well, Mrs. Katy Smith did +get my postal in time, after all. I'm so glad, because if she hadn't, +it wouldn't have been so nice and clean in here, and there would have +been no fire. Now, I'm going to take off my things and make a supper +for us all."</p> + +<p>Aunty May said, "I'll help you," but Aunty Edith said, "Not this first +time, May. You take the boy out and show him the garden and the river,"</p> + +<p>So Aunty May and I took hold of hands and went out, and there was a long +flower-bed running right down to the river-bank, on both sides of a long +grassplot; and beyond the grass and flowers was a lot of ploughed land +for vegetables and things; and beyond that there were a lot of woods. +There was a path between the grassplot and the flower-bed next the fence +of our neighbor, in the white stone house, and we went down that, and +when we came to the end of the flower-bed there was a big apple tree, +and then we went under that and stood on the river-bank, and there was +the Delaware!</p> + +<p>Under the biggest willow tree there was a seat made of an old box, and +Aunty May and I sat down for a minute and looked at the river. It was so +clear that I could see the little fishes swimming along, and I threw a +stick in it, and it went by so fast that Aunty May said, "My! how swift +the current is. You must be careful, Billy-boy, and not go near the edge +when you are alone." I said, "Yes, 'm, but I am to go in wading when it +gets warmer."</p> + +<p>We went along the bank a little farther, and there were more trees, +cherry trees, and willow trees, and buttonwood trees, and lots of nice +places for us to put our hammocks. Then we went back to the house, and +there was Aunty Edith in a big gingham apron toasting bread and making +chocolate. I laughed and said, "Oh, Aunty Edith, I never saw you look +like that in the city." Then we all laughed, and Aunty Edith said, "You +will see me look like this very often down here, for we all have to do +our share of the work. You, too, Billy. You will have to help us." I +said, "That will be bully."</p> + +<p>Aunty May set the table, and we all sat down and ate our toast and ham +and eggs, and drank our chocolate, and I thought it was better than +anything I had ever eaten.</p> + +<p>Just when we were in the middle of it, I heard footsteps crunching along +the walk, and down the steps at the side of the house from the towpath. +I called, "Some one's coming." Aunty Edith went to the door.</p> + +<p>It was Mr. Tree with the trunks and the suitcase. He said, "Hullo, +young fellow. Have you come to take care of these ladies?" And I said, +"Yes, sir"; and he said, "That's right. Look after 'em. It'll be a load +off my mind to know they've got a man on the premises. It's right lonely +up here." And I told him we wasn't afraid. I asked him if he needed any +help, but he said no, and he was so terrible big and strong that he +lifted the trunks as if they were boxes.</p> + +<p>After he had gone, Aunty Edith said she must unpack, and Aunty May said, +"Do, Edith; Billy and I will do the dishes."</p> + +<p>So Aunty May tied a big clean towel around my waist, and she washed and +I dried. There was no running water, just a pump outside the kitchen +shed, right out of doors.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="043.jpg (34K)" src="043.jpg" height="312" width="592"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I pumped for Aunty May and we had a lovely time. We played a game with +the dishes. Plates were ladies and saucers were little girls, and cups +were little boys, and knives and forks were policemen and spoons were +servants. We had a lot of fun, when the knives and forks marched round +the table, and ordered the other dishes into the cupboard.</p> + +<p>After that was done, Aunty May said she must go upstairs and help Aunty +Edith, and unpack her own typewriter. Aunty May writes stories, too, +only she uses a typewriter and I use a pencil.</p> + +<p>Aunty May asked me whether I'd sit in the window seat and read a +picture-book or would I explore the garden. I said I would do both; look +at pictures a little while and go in the garden. Aunty May made me +promise not to go too near the river, or too far down the towpath.</p> + +<p>Then she went upstairs and I read a little till I had enough of +reading, and I thought I'd go to the towpath, but first, as I was +thirsty, I thought I'd get a glass and take a drink at the pump. But +when I tried to pump, the pump-handle just went up in the air, and +wouldn't pump up any water!</p> + +<p>And just as I tried it again, I heard somebody say, "That pump handle +oughter been left up in the air. Say, young feller, you gotter pour some +water down first. That pump ain't been used stiddy for some little while +back. Ease it up and she'll go all right."</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="046.jpg (56K)" src="046.jpg" height="586" width="588"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I turned around, and there, leaning against the fence, was an old man +with big blue eyes and a white mustache, and a pipe, and a plaid vest +and a soft hat, and the biggest lot of cats I ever saw. Seven of them, +white and gray and black and mixed colors, all looking up at me.</p> + +<p>I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say. But the old gentleman +said, "Wait here, and I'll fetch you a kittle of water," and he turned +and went into the white stone house, and all the cats ran after him. But +he shut the door tight, and the cats sat waiting and mewing on the back +porch, and I held on to the pump-handle and waited too.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="047.jpg (7K)" src="047.jpg" height="93" width="412"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><hr><a name="03"></a><br><br> + + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<br> +<h3> +OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR +</h3> +</center> +<br> + +<p>In a minute he came out with a tin pail in his hand, and all the cats +ran after him, and he said, "Shoo, Teddy," and they ran away a little +bit, but came back and mewed and rubbed against his feet. He handed me +the pail across the fence, and I took it, and he said, "A little at a +time, boy." Then he went up to his porch and got a big dish and said, +"Here, Teddy, Teddy," and all the cats ran to him, and he fed them.</p> + +<p>I stood watching him, and he said, "Why don't you ease the pump?" and I +said, "If you please, sir, which one of your cats is Teddy?" He said, +"Sho, boy, they're all named Teddy after President Roosevelt, and +because it saves trouble. When I calls, 'Here, Teddy,'—they all comes. +When I calls, 'Shoo, Teddy,'—they all shoos," And I said, "That's the +best idea I ever heard of—for cats."</p> + +<p>He said, "Now, boy, you lift the handle of that pump high and throw some +water into her, and then keep a-pumping." And I did, and the water came, +and I pumped up a glassful, but he wouldn't take any.</p> + +<p>Then I said I'd fill the pail and bring it round because I'd like to +see his cats close to, and he said, "Never mind the pail, young fellow, +jist hand it over and come round yourself,"</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="050.jpg (73K)" src="050.jpg" height="668" width="596"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>So I did, first calling to Aunty Edith to ask if I might, and she came +to the door and shook hands with him, over the fence, and said, "How do +you do, Mr. Taylor. This is William Gordon, the son of Captain Gordon, I +told you of." Then he said, "Sho, you don't meanter say it! I served +under his grandfather." And Aunty Edith said to me, "William, Mr. Taylor +was a soldier in the army all through the Civil War, and he can tell you +lots about it." So I went over to his house and we sat on his back +porch, and he smoked a pipe, and I played with all his Teddy-cats.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="051.jpg (6K)" src="051.jpg" height="62" width="301"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Mr. Taylor told me he was seventy-three years old, and I said, "My! I'd +never guessed it, you look younger than that"; and he said, "Yes, boy, +I'm stepping along."</p> + +<p>Then he told me when he was a boy he worked on one of the canal boats, +and at that time there were many more boats, for most of the freight, +that goes in freight trains now on railroads, came down the canal in +boats. After that he enlisted in the army and went away out West. He +told me when he was young the West was the West, and you could shoot +buffaloes. He knows because he shot them. Then when the Civil War broke +out, he stayed in the army, enlisted again and fought all through it, +and came home with a bullet in his leg.</p> + +<p>His father was a cooper and built the stone house Mr. Taylor lives in +for a cooper shop, and that was why it was built so solid and had such +thick walls. He took me into the cellar and showed it to me, for that +was where they set the iron hoops to cool. I asked him who lived with +him in it, and he said he was all alone, everybody was gone, he said, +but him. I told him about my father and mother then, and how I would be +all alone if it wasn't for Uncle Burt, and he said Uncle Burt was a fine +man and a good soldier.</p> + +<p>He said he was glad I lived next door. I told him I was glad, too. He +asked me if I went in for any kind of sport like shooting; and I said, +not yet, but I climbed trees, and he said, when his cherries were ripe, +if I didn't make myself sick on Aunty Edith's, I could climb his, when +he was around.</p> + +<p>Then I asked him if he would tell me a story about the Civil War, and he +laughed and said the most of them were too full of fighting and sad +things for a little boy like me; and I told him I didn't mind them being +a little bloody; that I wasn't a kindergarten baby.</p> + +<p>He laughed some more, and said: "Speaking of climbing trees makes me +think of how near I was to being captured by some rebels once. You know, +boy, Quakers is agin all fighting, so at the beginning of the war, when +we regulars was sent to drill with a lot of new men and knock them into +shape, I was some surprised when fust thing I seen was young Jim Wilton, +whose father I knowed to be a Quaker living on the corner of the same +street where my uncle lived in Phillydelphy.</p> + +<p>"I says to him, 'Hullo, Jim, what you doing here?' and he said, 'Well, +Tom, I come here to larn you how to fight.' 'And you a Quaker's son,' +says I. 'Yup,' he says, 'and thee knows that my old folks is none too +pleased; but somehow I couldn't stay home comfortable with all the other +boys fighting to free the blacks, so here I be.'</p> + +<p>"Well, I was right glad to see him, and get news of all the old +neighbors, and Jim and me gits very chummy; and when there's a piece of +business needing the attention of one of us, it usually gits the +attention of both. Me and him hunting in couples as it were.</p> + +<p>"That's how it come about that one time, there being a bit of spying to +be done, me and Jim finds ourselves in rebel uniforms, waiting and +listening beside a camp-fire outside the rebel Gineral's tent, using our +ears and our eyes too. When up rides Gineral Stuart, who used to be my +commanding officer in the old days before he turnt reb, when he was in +the regular army.</p> + +<p>"My! but I was in a terrible taking, for Stuart had a gredge agin me for +somepin I'd done. I'll tell ye about that another day. 'T warn't me was +to blame. But if he onct caught sight of me, it would be short shrift at +the end of the rope.</p> + +<p>"So Jim and me begins edging away, until we could get a gait on without +being noticed; and get away we did, and into the woods where our own +clothes were hid; made the change and was getting back to our own +quarters, happy as larks to be on the home road; laughing to think how +near we'd been to Gineral Stuart, without his knowing it; and patting +ourselves on the back at how neatly we'd done the trick, when Jim looks +up and says, 'Hey, Tom, look at them persimmons,' Sure enough, there was +a tree full of the nicest ripe persimmons you ever see, right in +our way.</p> + +<p>"Now our rations hadn't been any too full lately and we were pretty nigh +hungry all the time.</p> + +<p>"'Tom,' he says, 'I uster be the best tree-climber in the county. I +gotter get me some of those,'</p> + +<p>"'Aw, Jim,' I says, 'don't be a fool. The woods may be full of rebels. +I'm full as hungry as you are, but I ain't going to stop for any +persimmons.'</p> + +<p>"'Just a handful,' he says, 'and it won't take a minute. Will you wait?'</p> + +<p>"'No, I won't,' I says, being so doggoned tired that I knew if I sat +down I'd fall asleep. 'I'm for pushing back to camp, and if you ain't +all kinds of a foolish boy, you'll do the same.'</p> + +<p>"So I went on, and Jim, he gives me one look, and then he gives the tree +a squint, and sho! he was off and up it before you could say 'Jack +Robinson.' Climb! well, rather. He was up it in no time, and eating and +slinging the persimmons into his hat. It made me so mad that I just +naturally turned my back and went right on.</p> + +<p>"Suddenly I hears a kind of whistle that was our signal—Jim's and +mine—to look out for trouble. So I drops right down and rolls over into +the bushes, and draws them over me, so I can't be seen. Then I lays +quiet and listens.</p> + +<p>"I hears voices, and turning my head so softly that the bushes don't +move, I peeps out and sees a party of rebs a-coming down the path. +They'd seen Jim, just after he'd give me his warning, and they lays for +him under the tree, and one of them rebs, who was just as handy at the +climbing as Jim, goes up and brings him down, persimmons and all. The +rebs laugh, and eat his persimmons and take him prisoner and march off; +Jim allowing that he was so hungry that he'd stolen off by his lonesome +to get something to eat. One of the men had heard the whistle Jim gave, +but Jim explaining that he whistled in surprise at seeing them, they +only beats up the bush a little, not coming near me.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="061.jpg (52K)" src="061.jpg" height="573" width="611"> +</center> +<br><br> + +<p>"They go off, with Jim never so much as looking my way, though they +passed so clost to me that the lieutenant's heel scrunched my little +finger. I had to take it without hollering or moving, for if I had +they'd taken me along with Jim. And that's what tree climbing brings a +man to."</p> + +<p>"What became of Jim?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jim, he was kept a prisoner all through the war, so he never got no +enjoyment out of his life, never seeing a bit of real fighting—just +marching and drilling and prison. So that, as he said, he might just as +well never 'a' run away,—seeing he had to bide a non-combatant, which +is the same as Quaker, after all."</p> + +<p>"Then he didn't like it, did he?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"No," Mr. Taylor said, laughing, "he didn't. And let this be a warning +to you, young man. Don't you go up a tree for persimmons or cherries or +other fruits whatsomever, agin the advice of your elders and betters."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, Mr. Taylor," I said, "I never will."</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="04"></a><br><br> + + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<br> +<h3> +ON THE TOWPATH +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + +<p>Our house is so nearly on the towpath, that the mules eat the +honeysuckle from the fence, and as there is only a tiny flower-bed +between the house and the fence, you can hear the voices, and the +tramping of the mules, as plainly indoors as out.</p> + +<p>At night, when you wake up in the dark, you think they are coming in. +That's at first. By and by you get so used to them that you don't +think about it.</p> + +<p>One reason why we came down so early in the spring is that I'm not to +be sent to school until the fall, because I'm not to use my eyes too +much, until they get stronger. Measles made them a little weak. So I +have one hour with Aunty May for reading and sums, and half an hour with +Aunty Edith for French; and then I don't have to do anything else for +the rest of the day, until nearly dark, when I water the flower-beds for +both the aunties.</p> + +<p>But from eleven until four, except at lunch-time, I must not bust into +the house and holler at Aunty May—for she is writing; and I must not +run after and plague Aunty Edith, when she goes up the towpath—for +she's painting.</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor, being seventy-three, can be spoken to at any time, except +when he's doing his baking. Then he doesn't want anything or anybody +round his feet, he says. Just as if I was cats!</p> + +<p>This morning I'm writing about. I was out on the towpath, fishing for +eels, so I could put one in the tub which stands by the pump to catch +the overflow; because Aunty May is very much afraid of snakes and eels, +and she squeals so funny when she sees them that it is what Mr. Taylor +calls "a fair treat" to hear her.</p> + +<p>I thought if I got her good and scared with seeing one in the tub, she +might be so mad that she'd not be able to write, and would chase me +round the garden.</p> + +<p>It's too bad Aunty May's grown up. She likes to play as well as any boy +I know, and she's good at it, too, if it wasn't for her writing. Uncle +Burt used to complain of that writing, too, when he was home. He said it +interfered a lot—when he wanted her to play with him.</p> + +<p>Anyway the eels didn't bite, but I thought maybe I'd get a sunfish, and +that's nearly as good a scream-starter, if Aunty May doesn't expect it +to be there.</p> + +<p>All at once, I felt my cap pushed right off, and I looked up and there +was a boy, riding on the top of an old gray mule, that was one of two +tired-looking mules, dragging a canal boat.</p> + +<p>There was nobody on the boat that I could see, 'cept one man asleep on +the top.</p> + +<p>"Gimme my cap, boy," I said.</p> + +<p>"Aw, you and your fishin'," he says. "Git off the towpath."</p> + +<p>And I said: "You can't say that to me. We've got the right of way here, +because I live in that house with the green door."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you do," says he. "Well, baby dear, go in and tell yer wimmin folks +ye've lost your cap"; and he chucked my cap right into the canal!</p> + +<p>Well, I couldn't get it, without falling in, and there was the +canal-boat coming along ready to run over it. So I took my fishing-rod +and flicked it at him, and there—I had caught the eel after all! It +struck him, all cold and slippery, and he yelled, and it hit the mule, +and the mule ran away, dragging the other mule with it, right up the +slope to Rabbit Run Bridge!</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="070.jpg (22K)" src="070.jpg" height="188" width="601"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>The boy had grabbed the fishing-rod, so that my rod and my eel went +with them.</p> + +<p>My! but I was mad, but kind of excited, too, for a man came up from the +inside of the canal boat and yelled, and the man on the deck woke up and +yelled, and the boy was yelling!</p> + +<p>There was a farmer driving along the road and across the bridge and when +he saw mules coming, lickity-split, where mules never come,—right up to +the bridge,—he yelled too, and licked his horse to get out of the way. +The boy, he licked the mules with my rod. He'd thrown my eel back into +the water.</p> + +<p>He was as cool as could be, and by and by he got the mules calmed down, +and one of the men from the boat jumped off and helped him and they got +the ropes all straight again and started off. The boy never said a word, +except when the man asked him what did it. Then he told him, "The mule +didn't like the looks of that baby boy there on the canal bank." The man +shook his fist at me, and I called, "Gimme my cap." And the boy said, +"Wait till we come back"; and he made an awful face as they went away, +turning round and riding backwards to do it.</p> + +<p>I knew then that he was the same boy that made a face at me when I was +in the train.</p> + +<p>Well, I had to tell Aunty Edith, and she looked very severe, and gave +me my second-best cap and said, "William, do be careful, this time." But +I only told her that the boy threw my cap into the water. I didn't tell +that he said he was coming back.</p> + +<p>But I talked to Mr. Taylor about it, and he agreed that when I saw the +boy again, I'd have to have it out with him, and he'd stand referee to +see that there was no unfair advantage took of me or him.</p> + +<p>"For," says he, "you can't be called baby darling free and often by them +boat boys, and neither can you eel them boat boys and scare their mules. +All things being equal, you ask him his intentions next time and come +to some mew-tual feeling on the matter, which won't reach the ears of +your Aunty Edith. The ears of your Aunty May," say she, "could be +reached and enjyed by them fine, if took alone, and without t'other +Aunty present."</p> + +<p>Well, every day I kept a watch-out for that boy, and for a whole week I +didn't see him.</p> + +<p>One Monday, Aunty May asked Aunty Edith if I couldn't go down,—it was +raining,—if I put on my raincoat and boots, with Mr. Taylor, when he +went to the mail, and bring her some stamps and stamped envelopes. Aunty +Edith said, "Oh, all right, May, but it seems to me you eat stamps. +They disappear so fast." Aunty May laughed, and said,</p> + +<p>"Be-that-as-it-may," which is what she always says when she wants to +stop discussing, "William goes."</p> + +<p>So I got ready, and Mr. Taylor and me started down. It's a mile away.</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor doesn't like umbrellas, neither do I, so, as it was only +misting, Aunty May said I needn't.</p> + +<p>Just as we got to Rabbit Run Bridge, who came along, with his mules, and +the same canal boat, and the same man asleep, under an umbrella this +time, but that BOY!</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor says, that the et-i-ket of such things makes him leave me +and go sit on the bridge while I had it out. So I went down and said to +the boy, "Hey, you, where's my cap?" And he grinned and said, "I give it +to your eel. He's a-wearing of it now, and it looks fine on him."</p> + +<p>That strikes me so funny that I began to laugh; then I remembered that +wasn't what I wanted to do. So I says, "Come on down till I polish you +up for what you did to my cap"; and he says, "I'll be down in a minute +to fix you for what you done to my mule. I've gotter put him in trousers +to-morrow, his legs is so damaged."</p> + +<p>Then I began to laugh again, at the thought of a mule in trousers. "Aw, +come on down," I said. "You ain't got any trousers for him." "Have, +too," he said; "I'm making them spare minutes out of Turkey red. And +when I adds brass buttons and pockets I'll put 'em on, the next time he +passes your house."</p> + +<p>I began to laugh again, and then he jumped down, and before I knew it +hit me a punch on the nose. That made me so mad that I hit at him and it +struck his leg, and he said, "Ouch," and jumped so that I looked at his +leg, and saw it was black and blue already.</p> + +<p>"Who did that?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Never you mind, baby dear," he said: "come on. If my leg did get +catched between the boat and the bank and ground agin a stone this +morning, I can still fight an eel-catcher."</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="078.jpg (21K)" src="078.jpg" height="235" width="607"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>And he hopped up to me on one foot, and I saw he wasn't much bigger than +me, maybe eleven or twelve, and he had all he could do to keep from +crying because his leg hurt him so; but he was so quick that I just had +to dodge to get out of the way.</p> + +<p>"Say," I said, after I'd gotten out of his reach, "I don't want to hit +you when you're hurt. And anyway," I said, "I don't know that I care +about fighting with anybody who can make eels wear caps and mules red +trousers. Wait a minute and I'll get a clean rag and some witch-hazel +for your leg."</p> + +<p>"No, you don't," he says; "I ain't going to be fussed over, but if you +gotta pitcher-book, like the one I seen you reading one day, that, an' +something to chew'll keep my mind off my leg, and when it's all right +again, I'll come past and smash you into bait for eels."</p> + +<p>That didn't seem quite what I wanted, but I told Mr. Taylor the boy was +hurt and I couldn't fight, and he said "Certainly not—agin +reg-u-lations."</p> + +<p>Then he said he'd wait for me a minute, and I ran back home, because I +knew I'd get there faster than any canal mule, and I bust into the room, +and told Aunty May, and first she didn't like my busting in like that, +and then she got interested. She gave me a picture-book and a piece of +rag, and some witch-hazel in a bottle, and a big piece of cake. When I +got out, the boy was just coming up to the fence, and Aunty May wanted +to tie up his leg for him, but he wouldn't. So she explained to him +that the stuff in the bottle and the rag was for his leg, and he said, +"Yes, 'm, thanks," and then she went in the house quick, so's I could +speak to him myself. I'd asked her to.</p> + +<p>He said, "Well, eel-catcher, this will help me some. And if I pass this +way agin, I'll look you up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do," I said.</p> + +<p>"Want yer book back?" he calls.</p> + +<p>"No," I said, "when you get through with it, give it to the eel."</p> + +<p>"No," says he, "he's not fond of reading, but I know an old mushrat +that's fond of anything like print. I'll give it to him, so any time you +see him reading it by moonlight, with his spectacles on, you'll know +it's my friend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, come back soon," I called, "and tell me more about it"; for he was +getting slowly and slowly away from me.</p> + +<p>"I will," he shouted, "if I don't make a mistake and swallow the +witch-hazel."</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="05"></a><br><br> + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<br> +<h3> +ON THE DELAWARE +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + +<p>I thought I'd never get tired of having a river at our back door, but +one day I nearly hated the Delaware.</p> + +<p>This is how it happened: Aunty Edith had a rowboat with a place in the +stern where you could fix a big sketching-umbrella, and go sketching +without getting too sunburnt; and when I was very good, 'specially good, +I could go with her.</p> + +<p>When I was just ordinary good, and Aunty Edith wasn't using the boat, +Aunty May and I used to borrow it and play "Robinson Crusoe," and Aunty +May made the funniest "Man Friday" you ever saw. She would pretend not +to know any language but "glub-glub," and so I had to teach her the +names of things and she would shake all her hair down and dance a +war-dance, when I got her to understand. This was when we'd reached our +Island. There was one across the river from us, and on a corner of it we +used to picnic and play.</p> + +<p>Mr. Turner's children all were girls, and they went to school, or had +music-lessons, or something, so I only had them once in a while to play +with, and then they always wanted to play fairy-tales, and make me the +Prince. I hate Princes because they're always bothering about finding +some Princess. I'd rather have been an Ogre or a Dwarf or a Bad Giant. +They had some fun. But the girls always got their Indian Boy to be +those. He was a big boy from the Carlisle Indian School, who came in the +summer to help about the house and the grounds, and he was great fun. He +showed me how to make bows and arrows, and taught me how to swim and +things like that, and how to push off a canoe. But mostly Aunty May was +the one I had to play with right on the spot, and just when you'd made +up your mind that she was a grown-up and wouldn't do it, she'd begin +some funny thing, and she was almost as good as a real boy.</p> + +<p>Well, Mr. Turner had a man visiting him, a painting-man, and he came +down to see Aunty Edith, and they put their heads on one side and +screwed up their eyes, and looked at paintings, and had tea, and talked +about art so long that Aunty May and I couldn't be quiet any longer, but +just had to go down into the garden and play Wild Men of Borneo. That +means taking a beanpole and yelling and dancing and trying to see who +can vault and jump the farthest with the pole, and when you win you +say, "Glug-Glug."</p> + +<p>We were right in the middle of this, and Aunty May was a little +red-faced, and her hair was kind of wild, when we heard somebody laugh, +and there was the painter-man down by the river, laughing as hard as he +could laugh; and Aunty Edith trying to look severe at Aunty May and not +able to, on account of her looking so comical. She had a black smudge +from the end of the beanpole, which had been in a bonfire, across her +forehead. You see she had just jumped the farthest, and was hollering, +"Glug-Glug."</p> + +<p>Aunty May laughed pretty hard, too, and we all laughed then, and Aunty +May went up to the house to turn into a clean-faced grown-up again, and +Aunty Edith unlocked the boat and handed the big umbrella to the man and +told him to use the boat as often and as long as he liked. He put his +paint-box and sketch-block in, and got in himself, and I stood looking +at him, wishing he'd ask me—when he did.</p> + +<p>"Want to come, young man?" he said, and I said, "Yes, I'll take my book +and my fish-line and be very quiet. May I, Aunty Edith?"</p> + +<p>Aunty Edith said, kind of doubtful, "I'm not going, William. Maybe you'd +better not."</p> + +<p>Well, I guess I looked awful sorry at that, for the man said, his name +was Mr. Garry Louden,—"Oh, let him come, Edith, I'll look after him"; +and Aunty Edith said, "But you're such an absent-minded beggar, Garry, +and this is Burt's most precious charge."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll be all right," Mr. Garry said; "I'll bring him home right as +a trivet. Hop in, son."</p> + +<p>So I jumped in and waved good-bye to Aunty Edith, and we started up the +river.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="089.jpg (60K)" src="089.jpg" height="447" width="614"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>"What's an absent-minded beggar?" I asked Mr. Garry, and he said, "Oh, +a fellow like me, who's always got his head full of pictures and things, +and forgets what he's at."</p> + +<p>"Then you don't really beg for anything, do you?" I said.</p> + +<p>"Lord, no," he said, "except when I'm out with talkative young sports, +and then I beg them to keep quiet."</p> + +<p>So I took my fish-line and sat still as a mouse, while he looked up and +down the river, and whistled to himself—when he got a good idea, I +guess, for after he'd whistled some, he'd let the boat drift and make +marks in his sketch-book. He was a nice man, but not used to little +boys, I think, for he used awful big words, and didn't answer questions +like Aunties and Uncles do.</p> + +<p>By and by I told him about the Island, and he said, "Right you are, +young Soc-ra-tees," and we landed there, and he kept saying, "Ripping," +"Splendid," and things like that, and by and by he fished out some +sandwiches and sweet chocolate from his pocket, and gave me some, and +told me to stay there while he rowed around and explored farther up the +side of the Island. I said, "All right," for with things to eat, and a +nice brook, and a shady place, and a book, no boy need have any trouble +finding things to do to keep himself amused. And I didn't.</p> + +<p>I made a ship, and loaded it, and I made a fort on the other side of the +brook, and when the ship came near the fort, the men from the fort came +out and had a fight and sank her. Then when I got tired of that I read +my book, and I read all I wanted to, and still Mr. Garry didn't come +back. I could hear voices on the river, and once in a while a canoe shot +past, but none of them was Mr. Garry, or Aunty Edith's rowboat.</p> + +<p>By and by they stopped coming past and then I got up and went along the +bank and looked for him. I could see, way across the river, a little +white speck, shining through the trees, which I knew was our house.</p> + +<p>My! didn't I want to be there! I didn't have any matches, of course. I'm +not allowed to carry them. I couldn't make a fire, or anything, though +it began to get dusky, and still Mr. Garry didn't come.</p> + +<p>Then, suddenly, I remembered that he was an absent-minded beggar who +forgot things, and maybe he'd forgot me. That made me feel awfully queer +and lumpy inside me, and besides I was getting tired.</p> + +<p>Nobody lived on that Island, except maybe some ground-hogs and +squirrels and snakes, and—it wasn't any place for a boy who didn't have +any food or tent or fire.</p> + +<p>First thing I knew, when that struck me, I heard myself bawl—right out, +"Oh, Aunty May—COME! Oh, Aunty May!" and then I was really frightened, +for it sounded so loud, and so scared, and so babyish.</p> + +<p>I kept still for a minute, and swallowed hard and then I yelled, "Hey! +Hey!" out loud, without crying—hoping somebody would hear me. I did it +a great many times, but nobody answered. Then I remembered that the boys +were always landing here and hollering and shouting in fun, and nobody +would pay any attention to it.</p> + +<p>I tried to remember what Uncle Burt'd do if he was caught like this, +and little like me. I thought maybe he'd take off his shirt and wave it, +but then I remembered it'd be too dark to see. But anyway I guessed I'd +better do something, so I took off my blouse, and put my sweater on, and +tied my blouse to a tree, and it waved, quite fine, for there was a +little breeze coming up. I tried rubbing sticks together for a light, +but whoever made up that plan must have had stronger arms and hands than +I had, for I rubbed till my arms ached so that I cried some, but I +didn't get a single spark of light.</p> + +<p>By this time it was very dark, and I was so hoarse with hollering, and +so aching in my arms with rubbing sticks, and my legs hurt so with +running up and down trying to see a boat or something, that I just +dumped myself down on the grass and cried—and—I guess I—fell asleep. +For the next thing I knew I heard some one calling my name, kind of +loud, and kind of scared, "Billy, Billy, darling, are you there?" It was +Aunty May in a canoe. I tried to call to her, but I was so hoarse and +tired, I just made a kind of noise in my throat.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="096.jpg (92K)" src="096.jpg" height="709" width="604"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Then I was so afraid she'd paddle away that I let out the finest yell +you ever heard, and Aunty May called out, "Hey, Robinson Crusoe. Here's +your Man Friday"; and she slid the canoe up to the bank, and I fell in +so stiff, and she hugged me so hard, that it's a wonder we didn't upset.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="097.jpg (15K)" src="097.jpg" height="213" width="581"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>Usually I don't like hugging, but this time it was all right.</p> + +<p>Then Aunty May told me that she had begun to get worried and so had +Aunty Edith, knowing that Mr. Garry was an absent-minded beggar. Aunty +Edith had gone up to Mr. Turner's to find if he was home, but Aunty May +had insisted on going out in the canoe, though Mr. Taylor didn't like +her to alone, and Mr. Taylor had gone down the towpath, toward the +village, looking for us. Well, wasn't Aunty May mad when she found out +how long I'd been alone and how badly I'd wanted her. She just paddled +as fast as she could, and all the time pretended that we were wild +savages who would catch Mr. Garry and put him on a desert island, just +to see how he'd like it.</p> + +<p>As we got nearer our house there were lights along the river-bank, and +we called and a big boat came up to us, and in it was Mr. Garry, with a +very white face, and Mr. Turner and Aunty Edith, and she was crying so +hard that she couldn't see me at first.</p> + +<p>When Aunty May said, "Don't cry, Edith, he's here," and handed me over, +she gave me such a hard squeeze that I couldn't speak for a minute.</p> + +<p>Mr. Garry all the time kept saying, "Say, old chap, I'm sorry, but I am +such an absent-minded beggar." Aunty May said, "Yes, but you'll never +have a chance to get absent-minded with this boy again."</p> + +<p>He looked terribly sorry, and begged my pardon again, and I told him, +"It was all right, only I didn't care to play Robinson Crusoe so +truthfully—at night."</p> + +<p>They hurried me up to the house and gave me warm things to eat and +drink, and let me stay up longer than usual.</p> + +<p>Aunty May wouldn't let Mr. Garry touch me or help her at all, and even +Aunty Edith wouldn't hardly speak to him, till they found I was all +right and not hurt any, except my blouse, which was left on the Island.</p> + +<p>Mr. Garry gave me his own silver pen-knife, before he went away, so that +I would "nevermore defenseless be," as he said, and we were quite +friendly. But after he had gone, I heard Aunty May say that "Never would +that absent-minded beggar take her boy away again"; and Aunty Edith +said, "He's Burt's boy, not yours."</p> + +<p>Aunty May didn't say anything, so I called out, "I'm your boy, too, +Aunty May. Uncle Burt said so, and I'll never, never go out with an +absent-minded beggar on the river again."</p> + +<p>And I never have.</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="06"></a><br><br> + + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<br> +<h3> +GEORGE +</h3> +</center> +<br> + +<p>For a while, I did have a real boy to play with, right in the house. It +happened this way:—</p> + +<p>Martha, who is Aunty Edith's colored washerwoman in the city, had a boy +called George, who used to bring the clothes home. He was a little older +than me—twelve years old—and he was always smiling, and his teeth were +white and his eyes shiny. And when his mother wrote Aunty Edith that he +was poorly, Aunty Edith had him sent down for a week—on trial, to stay +in the attic above my room, and do the dishes for the Aunties, and run +errands. He was to stay longer, if it was all right.</p> + +<p>I wish it had been, for George was awful funny. He was very obliging, +too, and I liked him. So did Aunty May, for he remembered all the +stories his teachers had told him in school, and he would tell them to +Aunty May and me, when we sat down under the willow trees, and we +just loved it.</p> + +<p>What Aunty Edith didn't love was what he did with the green paint. Aunty +Edith had a lot left over in a pot after the kitchen was painted, and +she thought it would be nice to paint the chairs and tables that we used +out of doors.</p> + +<p>We used to have breakfast and lunch, and even dinner, out in the little +grapevine-covered back porch, which had a cement floor, level with +the ground.</p> + +<p>So just to keep George happy, Aunty Edith gave him that to do. He +commenced it while Aunty May and I were doing lessons, and we could hear +Aunty Edith explaining—Aunty Edith always does the explaining—and +George all the time saying, "Yas, 'm, yas, 'm, Miss Edith." And by and +by Aunty Edith came in and we could hear George whistling and singing. +George did sing awful loud, and funny songs, so you'd have to stop +and listen.</p> + +<p>This morning he kept singing something about a man named "Sylvester," +and he kept singing out the same thing over and over again, till Aunty +May said, "Oh, dear, I can't hear myself speak. Edith, will you quiet +the blackbird?" And Aunty Edith called to George not to sing so loud, +and he said, "Yas, 'm, Miss Edith"; and the next minute it began louder +than ever.</p> + +<p>Then Aunty Edith went downstairs to tell him to take his work farther +away from the house.</p> + +<p>She hadn't been gone a minute till we heard her say, "Oh, good +gracious, what shall I do? Come here, George, and see if you can take it +off." George kept saying, "Yas, 'm, Miss Edith, yas, 'm"; and Aunty +Edith was being so very spluttery, that Aunty May and I leaned out the +window, and then we jerked our heads in and Aunty May said, "Don't you +dare laugh out loud, Billy."</p> + +<p>Then we looked again, and jerked our heads inside the window every time +we felt the laugh coming on, which was pretty often, for you see George +had put the paint-can, a small one, right on the doorsill, and Aunty +Edith had put her foot in it, and it had caught.</p> + +<p>There was Aunty Edith holding on to the grape-arbor while George pulled +at the can, and the paint flowing around pretty free. Well, George +couldn't pull it off, and finally he had to take a can-opener and cut +Aunty Edith's foot out, just as though she were salmon, or something.</p> + +<p>When we got to that part, Aunty May and I forgot ourselves and laughed +out loud, and then Aunty Edith looked at us, and looked at her foot, and +at George's black face all daubed with green paint, and his clothes, +too, as he carefully cut her out, and she laughed, too. But it spoiled +her shoe, and it took several days to wear the green off George.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="109.jpg (94K)" src="109.jpg" height="707" width="617"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>That was the too bad part of it. George was so fine for singing and +telling stories and he just couldn't remember to do anything else.</p> + +<p>When he went for the mail and the groceries, unless I went with him, +he'd forget everything, and come home just as smiling as ever.</p> + +<p>And he was brave, too, for he used to chase the village boys when they +ran after him and called names, and besides that he and I built a lovely +Filipino house up in the biggest willow tree, and had lots of fun, +escaping from two boys at the farm across Rabbit Run Bridge, who chased +us and tried to catch us. We got up in our tree-house and shot at them +with bows and arrows, and they couldn't reach us. I liked having George. +If he'd only stayed funny, without getting dangerous. But George got +dangerous.</p> + +<p>It was this way: George and the two boys on the farm, Samuel and Charlie +Crosscup, were having a talk on the middle of Rabbit Run Bridge, about +fire engines. Samuel said the East Penniwell fire engine could get up +steam and run to a fire, with Sol Achers's old white horse hitched to +her, quicker than a New York fire engine could. George and me said it +couldn't. He said, "It could, because why? The East Penniwell horse and +engine were used to the roads and the New York horses and engine would +have to be showed."</p> + +<p>I couldn't think of anything to say, but George said, "No, sah. Dat +ain't noways so. For de New York fire engines and horses is so trained +that they goes over any road and anywhere according as the Fire Chief +he directs, and it doan mek no difference whether they've been up +dataways befo' or not They jist naturally eats up all distances."</p> + +<p>Well, that made the Crosscup boys mad, and they kept telling all about +the East Penniwell engine house, and my! it must be a lovely place, if +all they say is true. George he told them then about the New York engine +houses, and my! they must be splendid if George really knew. He said he +did. He said his mother's cousin washed for three firemen and she'd +oughter know. I guess she ought to, but George did remember so much +about those things, and forgot so quick about others, that sometimes I +really didn't know what to be sure about.</p> + +<p>Well, it began to rain, and George was going to take me home, when one +of the boys said, "Aw, don't go home, yet. Come on into the old barn and +let's play knife until the rain stops."</p> + +<p>I guessed we'd ought to go home right away with the bundles and change, +but George said, "On no account can I git you wet. Miss Edith wouldn't +stand for that nohow." So I went with him. And we played knife on the +floor. It was a big empty barn. That is there weren't any cattle in +it, just hay.</p> + +<p>It stood a long way from the house, and on a little hill. By and by the +thunder and lightning got quieter, but the rain made it dark, and I +said, "Oh, George, let's go. It's too dark to see in here anyway." But +George wouldn't go until he had finished his game, and when the other +boys said, "It's too dark to play knife any more," George said, "Let's +play robber's cave. I got something in my pocket will make it light." He +took out a box of matches and a candle-end, and said, "Let's stick it up +yere, and then play robbers. This'll be the den"; and he put the candle +into the neck of an old bottle.</p> + +<p>I said, "Oh, George, Aunty Edith doesn't let you have matches." George +said, "Look yere, these matches was give me to-day, and this ain't Miss +Edith's barn. If these young gemmun is willing to play in their father's +barn with a candle, you ain't got no call to say anything, has yer?" And +the boys said, "Aw, it's all right. Come on. William ain't yer boss. +He's nothing but a kid anyway."</p> + +<p>Well, that made me mad, and I wouldn't play robbers with them, and I +slid down to the barn floor, and went to the door, and looked out to see +if it was getting any lighter. But George, he put on a terrible look, +and began to say, "I'm the King of the Robbers, who's this yere +a-peekin' and a-spyin' in my den?" Then Sam called out, "It's me. I'm +the King of the Pirates, and I've come to take ye bound hand and foot to +my ship. Stand by, men!" "Men" was his brother Charlie, and they made a +dash at George. He danced and flew at them with a stick and called to me +to come and be his man and help him fight 'em off.</p> + +<p>I was just running to do it, for it looked like pretty good fun, and the +rain was pretty hard, when somebody knocked the bottle with their foot, +and over it went into a heap of straw, and before the boys could race +back and put it out, the hay was on fire.</p> + +<p>Oh, dear! I hope I never see anything like that again. We boys were so +scared at first, we couldn't move, and then, with a yell, the Crosscup +boys ran to tell their father, with me and George after them.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="117.jpg (95K)" src="117.jpg" height="697" width="610"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>We only ran a little ways toward the other barn, and then we found an +old bucket, and George yelled to me to get a bit of rope, and we +lowered it into the canal and ran back to throw the water on the fire. +But it was too little, and the fire was too big.</p> + +<p>Farmer Crosscup came running with his hired man, and we all worked with +hose and everything, but the barn burned, all but the north wall, and so +fast that though George and I ran and ran for help, and though Mrs. +Crosscup telephoned to town for engines, it was through burning before +they got up.</p> + +<p>After this, George had to go. Aunty Edith got him sent to a place for +colored children, where he could have fresh air, and some one to look +after him, but he had to go away from East Penniwell. The farmers said +he was "dangerous." I was sorry and Aunty May was sorry, too, but it +couldn't be helped. George was sorry, too, but at the last minute he +leaned from the wagon and whispered to me, "Anyway, I done proved dat +dere old fire engine wuz too slow."</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="07"></a><br><br> + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<br> +<h3> +LEFT ALONE +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + +<p>After George went away, it seemed very quiet on the towpath. It grew +warmer and warmer, and the cherries got ripe and were picked, and I +climbed trees and played more, and had fewer lessons, because it was so +hot, and the little Turner girls came down to play with me sometimes, +because school was out. I went up and played with them sometimes, but +not often unless the launch came down, because it was a long way to walk +in the hot sun.</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor and me used to sit on his back porch, where it was cool, and +tell one another stories.</p> + +<p>He told me some fine ones about the war, and when he was a boy. More +things seemed to happen to boys then than they do now, and I told him +so, and he laughed and said that was only because he was seventy-three +and remembered about them. He said that when I was seventy-three, "some +little feller'll think the same thing when you tell him about the fust +airship and things like that."</p> + +<p>I laughed at me ever being seventy-three, but I suppose I will some day. + The only fun we had before the letter came was early that very +morning, when Aunty May was sitting reading some clippings her editor +had sent her, with her back to the little cupboard I told about, that +was made out of an old window.</p> + +<p>I came down the stairs from my room and stood looking at her, wishing +she'd look up so I could interrupt. But she didn't and I stood there +just as quiet for a minute, and wondering why I suddenly thought about +the pictures in my book on India. Then I heard a little rustle, and I +knew. Just above Aunty May's head, uncoiling itself from round a pile of +plates in the corner, was a big black and yellow snake.</p> + +<p>I called out, "Hey, Aunty May! Quick! There's a snake behind you!" And +she looked up and said, "Billy, I'm not in the mood for playing."</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="123.jpg (33K)" src="123.jpg" height="311" width="617"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I said, "Oh, Aunty, I'm not fooling. Quick, or it will land on your +head"; and she turned round and looked right at the snake and it looked +at her, and Aunty May gave a scream, and jumped away, and the snake +dropped down on the floor and commenced to wiggle behind the couch.</p> + +<p>Then I tell you there was some fun. Aunty Edith came down just as Aunty +May got a hatchet and made a chop at the snake, but she never touched +it, and Aunty Edith wouldn't let me go behind the couch after him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor, who was coming along the towpath from the village (he +brought us the mail every morning), came down and asked, "What's up, +young feller? I heerd the wimminfolk screeching. What ye been up to?"</p> + +<p>I told him I hadn't done anything. It was a snake. Then Mr. Taylor and +me pulled out the couch, but he wasn't there. We poked sticks behind the +pantry, but couldn't find him.</p> + +<p>There was a big hole in the cement there, and Mr. Taylor said, "Sho, the +poor snake was more frightened than ye was, Miss May, and it's likely +he's down the river-bank by now." Then Aunty May and me told him how big +it was and what color, and he said, "I knew a couple of wimmin kept a +milk snake in their dairy for a pet. Maybe this feller wants pettin'." +Aunty May said he'd never get it from her, and she took a piece of tin +and a hammer and tacks and went to close up the hole, but Mr. Taylor +said, "Wait a minute, Miss May"; and he whispered to her, "Stand by a +minute. There's a letter here from the War Department to Miss Edith, and +I'm doubting it's being the best of news."</p> + +<p>Well, poor Aunty May turned so white and sat down so quickly with her +face in her hands, that Aunty Edith, who came in the room just then from +putting the axe away in the shed, said, "Why, May, did the snake +frighten you as much as that?" Aunty May didn't answer. She just +clutched Mr. Taylor and said, "Where is it?" Then Mr. Taylor looked at +her and at Aunt Edith, and said "Sho" once or twice, and then he pulled +out of his pocket a long envelope, and put it in Aunty Edith's hands.</p> + +<p>She sat down very quick, and tried to open it, but her hands shook so +that she couldn't. Aunty May took it from her and tore it open, and they +both leaned over and read it. Then Aunty Edith cried so for a while she +couldn't tell us anything, but at last Aunty May took my hand and we +went out on the porch, and she told us that Uncle Burt had got hurt in a +little fight—not a real battle, a "skirmish" with some natives, and he +was to be sent home on sick-leave.</p> + +<p>Then she and Mr. Taylor talked about what the letter said, and he shook +his head, and told her it looked like a bad job to him. Aunty May told +me to go over and sit with Mr. Taylor while she talked with Aunty Edith.</p> + +<p>Mr. Taylor and me sat there, not very happy, because I was thinking of +Uncle Burt, and somehow I couldn't make him sick or hurt, he was so big +and so very strong.</p> + +<p>I said that to Mr. Taylor, and he said, "Them there guns don't care how +big and strong a man is, they picks 'em down. They're cruel things, +boy, firearms is. Don't you ever go a-monkeying with them, mind that." I +said I wouldn't.</p> + +<p>We sat there so quiet that we could hear the Aunties talking, and Aunty +Edith crying every now and then, in the house. Aunty May wasn't crying, +but she seemed quite angry about something. I could hear her say, "You +shall take it, Edith, and you shall do as I say, or I'll throw it into +the canal." Then again, "What is the money to me if—" And then Aunty +May began to cry and Aunty Edith began to be soothing to her, and the +more she soothed the harder Aunty May cried, till I heard Aunty Edith +say, "All right, May, dear. I promise I'll do it, if you'll only +stop crying."</p> + +<p>Aunty May stopped right away, and presently she came out, and her eyes +were red, but her mouth was smiling, like it always does when she gets +what she wants.</p> + +<p>She came and sat down by Mr. Taylor and me, while Aunty Edith went up to +write out telegrams and letters, and told me that Aunty Edith was going +out to bring Uncle Burt home, and that she was going with her as far as +San Francisco; that while they were gone I was to stay at the Turners', +for she thought they would look after me for her, and would I be a good +boy until she came back?</p> + +<p>I promised I would, but, oh, I felt awful, and I begged her to take me +with her, but she said she couldn't because Aunty Edith was so tired and +sorry, and she would have to look after her all the time, and I must +stay at home and be good and wait. She would come back for me, in a +little while, and we'd wait together for Uncle Burt.</p> + +<p>So as long as Mr. Taylor sat there looking at me with his winky blue +eyes, I didn't dare howl or anything, but my! I did feel like it. So I +just said, "Yes, 'm, Aunty May, I'll be good." She kissed me right before +him. It was a little mean of her, but he looked the other way and said, +"Shoo, Teddy."</p> + +<p>Then Aunty May said, "There isn't a minute to be lost, Billy, so come in +and pack your box, while I go across to the farmhouse and call the +Turners up on the 'phone."</p> + +<p>I went into the house, where Aunty Edith was very quiet and packing very +hard; and I packed the big suitcase with some of my things, for Aunty +Edith said I could always get in the house and get the rest of them +any time.</p> + +<p>Presently Aunty May came back and said, "It's all right. They are +dears. They are coming down for Billy, right away, and they'll take you +and me to the train. Do you think you can do it, Edith? We've just an +hour." Aunty Edith said, "Of course I can."</p> + +<p>And then you never saw such a packing time. It made me so dizzy watching +those two Aunties fly around, that presently I went outside, and sat +with Mr. Taylor, who was on the front step, "Waiting orders," he said; +and didn't we just get them, though!</p> + +<p>When Aunty Edith called, "Billy, the tags, please," didn't I just run! +and when Aunty May said, "Mr. Taylor, will you please help me with this +window?" he jumped around as though he was seventeen instead of +seventy-three.</p> + +<p>By and by the launch came down, but a little late, so it was decided +that I was to wait with Mr. Taylor until they took the Aunties to the +train; and they'd get me on the way back.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="134.jpg (29K)" src="134.jpg" height="220" width="610"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>After a few minutes the trunks were in the launch, the house was locked +and Mr. Taylor had the key. The Aunties kissed me good-bye, and Aunty +Edith promised to tell Uncle Burt I was a good boy, and Aunty May said +she'd come back for me as soon as she could—and they shook hands with +Mr. Taylor and he said, "Sho, I gotter feed them Teddy-cats," and went +down the steps. Then they got into the launch and went off, and I waved +at them as long as I could see them; and then I sat down by the canal +bank and felt as if I couldn't bear it, for it wasn't till then I +believed they had really gone away and left me all alone.</p> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="135.jpg (79K)" src="135.jpg" height="648" width="599"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br><hr><a name="08"></a><br><br> + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<br> +<h3> +AT TURNERS' +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + +<p>Up at Turners' it was nice. They had a big stone house with lots of room +in it, and the girls, Charlotte and Grace, were nice to play with, and +Mrs. Turner always seemed to know what a boy wanted. She did pat me on +the head and call me "pigeon" sometimes, but then, she did that to Mr. +Turner, too, so I didn't mind.</p> + +<p>At first I thought it was going to be so nice, that I'd forget about +everything till Aunty May came back, but by and by, though they were +nice as nice can be, I began to miss Aunty May till it hurt like a +toothache.</p> + +<p>I missed Aunty Edith, too, but Aunty May and I had played most together, +and next to Uncle Burt, I loved her best.</p> + +<p>The Turners had an old ruined mill on their grounds, and we children +used to hang our bathing-suits in there and use it to dress in when we +went swimming in the creek.</p> + +<p>It was very old, and all the machinery, the wheels and things, were made +of wood. Up in the top there was a nice big loft, with a wide window, +where nobody ever went. When I found this out, I took a broom up there +and swept it by the window, and got an old chair, and one of the old +barrels for a table, and when I didn't want to play with Charlotte and +Grace, or when it rained, I used to get a piece of bread or cake, or an +apple, and go off there, all by myself. Sometimes I read, sometimes I +wrote books and drew, and sometimes I just sat and thought about Uncle +Burt and Aunty May, and Aunty Edith. And it got nearer and nearer the +time for Aunty May to come back.</p> + +<p>The very day that she was to come home, I was doing this, thinking +about her, I mean—a little harder than usual, because Mr. Turner had +told me at breakfast that after all Aunty May wouldn't be back till +to-morrow, when I heard somebody else breathing in the room. I turned +around, and there was Henry, the Indian boy from the Carlisle School, +sitting crouched on the floor.</p> + +<p>He was a great big boy, fifteen or sixteen, and he helped with the work +in the house in the summertime. Henry was always nice to us children, +and we liked him a great deal.</p> + +<p>I said "Hullo, Henry, what are you doing in my library?" And he showed +all his teeth at me and said he was doing the same that I was doing +there; he had come up to be sad and alone. Then I told him all about +Aunty May, and he was sorry for me, and he told me about the school, and +the teachers, and football, and his people, and I was sorry for him.</p> + +<p>Then he told me that when he got very sorry about everything, sometimes, +he just dressed himself and got out of his bed at night and walked and +walked until he got tired, and then came back and slept.</p> + +<p>He told me how lovely everything looked in the country, early in the +morning, and I told him I'd like to do that, too, some morning, but how +did he get up without waking people? Then he showed me how he could move +in his stocking feet and no one could hear him. And it was true. If I +sat with my back to Henry I would still think he was sitting back of me, +when he was over by the door, really. So I practiced that, too. "Playing +Indian," he called it; and he promised next time he had that feeling, +he'd throw some gravel at my window, and I could come down.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="141.jpg (28K)" src="141.jpg" height="306" width="456"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I asked him how soon he thought it'd be, and he looked at me very long, +and then, just as somebody called, "Henry, where are you? Come and take +the canoe out," he leaned down and whispered in my ear, "To-night, +be ready."</p> + +<p>Well, I could hardly eat my supper for thinking of it, and I went to bed +so quickly and quietly that Mrs. Turner called me "pigeon" and patted my +head, because the little girls didn't want to go and were a +little noisy.</p> + +<p>After I got into bed and was just falling asleep, I did just for a +minute think I should have asked Mrs. Turner if I could go, but +honestly I never thought of that till then, because Aunty May wasn't +there. I would have thought of telling her. Anyway Henry had told me not +to tell, and I didn't know whether he meant just the children or not.</p> + +<p>Well, I stayed awake a long time, and got up softly and dressed again, +and then I stayed asleep it seemed to me just a teeny while, when a bit +of grass and gravel hit me on the nose.</p> + +<p>I woke up and more came flying through my open window, so I got up +softly and kneeled on my bed, and there was Henry down on the ground, +looking up at me.</p> + +<p>When he saw me he put his finger to his lips, and sent a big piece of +clothes-rope flying through the window on to the bed, all without +a word.</p> + +<p>Then he shaped with his mouth to use that and not the stairs, for the +stairs were creaky.</p> + +<p>So I put the noose at the end over my bed-post and held on tight, and +slid down, without a bit of noise, to the ground, where Henry caught me.</p> + +<p>I came down so fast it hurt my hands, but Henry washed them with water, +at the well, and tied them up, all without speaking, and we went softly +out of the yard, not toward the towpath, but up the long road over +the hills.</p> + +<p>It was very early morning, about three o'clock, and everything looked +lovely.</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="145.jpg (46K)" src="145.jpg" height="444" width="519"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>When we got far away from the house, I asked Henry if he wasn't hungry, +and he shook his head, no, but gave me a Uneeda biscuit out of a box, +and I ate three or four, and all the time he was walking on in the nice +soft light, without saying anything.</p> + +<p>Presently we got to the top of a hill, and Henry stood still, and so did +I. There was the sun coming up and making all sorts of lovely colors +on the sky.</p> + +<p>When we looked at it a little while, Henry said, "How does the little, +lonely boy like walking in the morning?" and I said, "Fine."</p> + +<p>We walked on, and sometimes Henry didn't say anything, and sometimes he +whistled, and sometimes he talked to me about Carlisle and football, +and out-of-doors and things like that, and I had a lovely time and +didn't notice how far away we were getting.</p> + +<p>At last the sun came up all the way, and I said, "Oh, Henry, we'd better +get back now, for Mrs. Turner will miss us and not know where we are."</p> + +<p>But Henry threw himself flat on the grass,—we had sat down to rest a +minute because I was tired, and didn't say anything at all for a +long time.</p> + +<p>Then he lifted his head and his white teeth showed, and his eyes smiled +at me, and he said quite softly, "I am not going back."</p> + +<p>Oh, how queer I felt when he said those words. Maybe it was as Aunty +May said, because I hadn't enough breakfast in my insides, but +everything went round like a clock for a minute, the sky, the trees, and +the strange road, and the strange houses, and then I said in a funny +voice, "Oh, Henry, you don't mean that."</p> + +<p>He said, "Yes, I am tired of everything there"; and he pointed down the +road we had come along. "I am going back to my own people; back to +the school."</p> + +<p>Then he offered to take me with him, and to carry me part of the way, as +I was little and got tired too easily to keep up with him. But though +he was kind, and I wanted very much to go with him, and not be left +alone, I couldn't, because I remembered this was the day Aunty May was +coming home; and now, what would she and the Turners think of me!</p> + +<p>I was so sorry that I was pretty near crying, except that the Indian boy +was looking at me with his bright eyes, and I remembered that Indians do +not cry, and would think me a poor kind of a boy if I did.</p> + +<p>So I just shook my head, and told him I must go back and meet Aunty May. +He didn't like this, until I had promised him that I would only say he'd +left me and had gone on to Carlisle, and I would not say where he'd +left me, so that he'd get a fair start. But I didn't like to say even +that for fear I'd have to tell what wasn't so, until he told me it was +all right, because I didn't know where we were, and he wouldn't tell me.</p> + +<p>He told me he liked me very much and was sorry I wouldn't go with him, +and he divided the crackers and told me to sit still and not look until +I had counted 100. I did, and when I'd finished there wasn't any Henry +to be seen.</p> + +<p>I ate a cracker, and started back down the road again, and now everybody +was up and I met men on the roads and dogs barked at me, and oh, how +long the road seemed!</p> + +<p>I went on and on till I thought I should fall down, and I was so thirsty +I didn't know what to do.</p> + +<p>By and by, I came to a place where there was a toll-gate, and then I +knew I was lost, for we hadn't passed any on the road coming up, and +besides I hadn't any money.</p> + +<p>So I stood still and tried to think, but I felt hot and tired and my +head went round a little. Then I thought I'd go to the back door of the +tollhouse, and then maybe some one would tell me how to go and they +wouldn't have to feel so badly about telling me I couldn't get through +without any money. So I went round to the back yard and there was +nobody in it.</p> + +<p>Then I went up to the kitchen door and knocked and nobody came, but I +heard a little voice at the kitchen window say, "Hey, boy, what do +you want?"</p> + +<p>I looked and there was a little boy, just about seven or eight, sitting +in a chair by the window, and I came up to it, and called to him—"I +want to know the road to East Penniwell, and I want a drink of water."</p> + +<p>At first he just shook his head, and then he opened the window, and +said, "Hurry up. We got diphtheria here and nobody's allowed to speak +to me. That's why the tollhouse is shut up. Ain't you 'fraid?"</p> + +<p>I said, "I don't know what it is, and I'm awfully hungry and thirsty and +I want to know the road to East Penniwell."</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "poor boy"; and handed me out a glass of milk and a +piece of bread, and I was drinking the milk, when I heard some one yell +at me. It was a man running up to the house, and the boy grabbed the cup +away and said, "Here comes Pop. You'd better leg it." I ran as fast as I +could out the gate and down the road he told me to take. The man didn't +chase me far, and I didn't hear what he said, his dog barked so. But I +didn't feel quite so tired, though I ached a lot still, and my feet were +awful wet, through running right through a brook when the man called +at me.</p> + +<p>I went right on. Sometimes I lay down under a tree, sometimes I sat down +by the road.</p> + +<p>I don't see why a road that seems all right when you're going up it, +seems so terrible when you are going down. But maybe it's because I made +wrong turnings, and always when the men asked me if I'd ride with them a +little ways, I said, "No," because I would have to tell them I belonged +at Turners', and they might ask me about Henry, the Indian boy.</p> + +<p>Last I took a turning that led me farther and farther down a road I +never remember seeing before and there were no cross-road places; no +farmhouses, and no man came along on a wagon. I just had to keep on, +feeling sicker and sicker, till, just as I made a short turn, I came out +on a road that led to Crosscup's farm and Rabbit Run Bridge!</p> + +<p>My, wasn't I glad. But I wasn't going to Crosscup's house, not much! I +knew what I'd do now. I'd get Mr. Taylor, and tell him, just as fast +as I could.</p> + +<p>That wasn't very fast, because my feet had needles in them, and +dragged, but by and by I got there, and knocked at the door. Mr. Taylor +opened it, with all the cats around him. I just began to speak, and say, +"Good-morning, Mr. Taylor," when everything got kind of black and hazy, +and I didn't remember any more.</p> + +<br><br><hr><a name="09"></a><br><br> + + +<center> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<br> +<h3> +THE WHITE TENT +</h3> +</center> +<br> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="157.jpg (22K)" src="157.jpg" height="367" width="475"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I didn't remember anything, until I woke up and found myself lying on +the porch, and Mr. Taylor bending over me with a glass of water in his +hand, all the Teddy-cats purring at me, and my head on somebody's lap. +Mr. Taylor was saying, "Sho, I guess he's coming to, and ye'd better not +let him see ye, jist at first"; but I turned quick before she could +move, and grabbed her and said, "Oh, Aunty May."</p> + +<p>I thought I'd shouted it, but it sounded just like a squeak.</p> + +<p>Aunty May didn't care. She just lifted me up in her arms and held me +tight, and said, "Oh, Billy, how could you run away from me?"</p> + +<p>It took me the longest while explaining to her and to Mr. Turner and to +Mr. Taylor, who didn't say anything but "Sho" and shoo the cats, and +never looked at the others. But I knew he'd hear every word and remember +it, if I didn't, so I told them exactly what happened. How sorry Henry +was to go away, but that he had to, and that I didn't know where the +place was that we'd parted at, and how I thought he was coming back when +we started.</p> + +<p>Mr. Turner said it was all right, that Henry was an honest, industrious +boy, but he had fits of homesickness, though they had never known about +his getting up early and walking.</p> + +<p>Aunty May forgave me, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner forgave me too.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Turner was in the launch, and was just telling me to jump in and +come up with Aunty May to dinner, when Mr. Taylor, who had been +listening and not saying anything, said, "I hope that wasn't the Lateeka +Toll-House ye stopped at, young man. I heerd say there was so much +diphtheria and scarlet fever there that they hev closed the tollhouse."</p> + +<p>Then I remembered what the boy had said, and I had to say it to Aunty +May, and Aunty held me very tightly for a minute, and said to Mrs. +Turner, "No: it wouldn't be safe for the other children. I'll keep +William down here, until we see if it develops."</p> + +<p>Then both the ladies nodded to each other very sadly, but Mr. Turner +said, "Oh, he's a young husky. He'll be all right"; and they went away.</p> + +<p>But I did develop. So much, that Aunty May had a sign put on the house, +and nobody came near us for weeks and weeks but the nurse and the +doctor, and Mr. Taylor, who used to hand things over the fence. And oh, +how tired I got of being in bed, and being sick. Then when I got a +little better, Aunty May and the doctor had a big tent put up in the +woods near us, and the nurse went away, and Aunty May and I lived in the +tent together, and I started to get better and write this book.</p> + +<p>First, just a little at a time, and then by and by a good deal each day, +and all the time Aunty May stayed with me, and never said I was naughty +or anything. Just called me "Billy-boy" and spelled all the big words, +and took care of me like I was a baby, because I was so weak.</p> + +<p>One day, when I had sat up all day, dressed, I thought Aunty May looked +kind of excited, and I saw a letter sticking out of her pocket, and I +asked her if Aunty Edith was coming home, and she said, "Yes, very +soon." She smiled so that I knew it must be something nice, so I clapped +my hands and said, "Then Uncle Burt's all well again, too." For every +time while I was sick, when I asked about Uncle Burt, Aunty May would +say, "He's much better, but we mustn't talk." I had to be patient and +wait then, but this day I said, "Oh. Aunty May, he is really better, +isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Then Aunty May laid down her letter and came and sat down by me and +said, "Billy, how would you like to hear about Uncle Burt to-day?" and I +told her, "I'd like to." Aunty May told me then that Uncle Burt had been +shot very badly in the leg, and that he had a fever beside, and had +been so ill that they thought he would die, but that Aunty Edith had +gone out there and taken such good care of him that he was better, and +was coming back with Aunty Edith. I asked for how long, and Aunty May +got a little sad and said, "That's the hard part of it for Uncle Burt, +Billy. He won't ever be able to go back to the army again. His leg is so +badly hurt that he will always be a little lame."</p> + +<p>Then Aunty May burst out crying, and so did I, for it seemed hard that +big, splendid Uncle Burt should be lame. By and by Aunty told me that +he had got the hurt when he turned back to help one of his men who had +been shot; that even though he was hurt himself, he brought the soldier +back to camp; so I ought to be proud of him.</p> + +<p>But I was anyway, I told her. I couldn't be any more than I am. I knew +Uncle Burt would do a thing like that. I just expected it of him. But +I'd like to kill the man who hurt his leg.</p> + +<p>Aunty May told me not to say that, for the poor thing had been killed, +and she said, "War is a horrible thing," And I said, "Yes, 'm, but it +wasn't a real war, only a skirmish"; and Aunty May said, "It was real +enough for that poor wretch and for Burt."</p> + +<p>I said, "But Uncle Burt'll find something else to do, some other way to +be splendid, won't he?" And Aunty May just nodded her head, and we +didn't say anything more for a long time and I lay still thinking about +Uncle Burt and wondering how it would seem to be him, and lame. I said, +"Will he use a crutch?" but Aunty May didn't know. She hoped not. And +now, would I please get well, and be ready for her to hand me over whole +to Uncle Burt.</p> + +<p>I said I would, but she'd have to be handed over too, for Uncle Burt +told me to take care of her for him.</p> + +<p>I got better, and so did Aunty May. As fast as I grew better, she got +more cheerful, and we used to have lots of fun. But all the time we +stayed in the tent, and never went to the house. I used to hear +hammerings and things, but I never saw anything, because I wasn't +allowed to walk yet on account of the anti-toxin. I don't know whether +that word is spelled right, but I don't like to ask Aunty May, it always +makes her pale when I say the word.</p> + +<p>One day, Aunty May brought a boy down the path with her. A mule boy. I +heard the mules waiting for him outside, and it was the "cap and eel" +boy, and he said, "How are you, young feller? Heerd you was sick!"</p> + +<p>"Who told you?" I said.</p> + +<p>"The Mushrat," he said. "He came a-whooping and a-running up the canal +one night, an' hollered to me in passing that he wasn't going to bring +no pitcher-books back to no diphtheria sore-throaters. Kina cowardly +fellers, them mush-rats, so I brung it myself. Say, when ye going to get +up and paste me?"</p> + +<p>"When you put those turkey-red trousers on your mule," I said.</p> + +<p>And then we both laughed, and Aunty May give him another picture-book, +and some fruit, and asked him to come again, and he promised, and I lay +back and heard his mule bells jingling up the path. It seemed so nice +and peaceful, and everybody was so kind to me, that I felt lumpy inside, +especially when I thought of Uncle Burt coming.</p> + +<p>But would he be angry with me for bringing germs to his house, and right +close to Aunty May? I asked Aunty May what she thought, and she said +Uncle Burt would agree with her that I really couldn't help it, and that +he wouldn't blame me, especially if she handed me over all right.</p> + +<p>So we went to work on jellies and things and tried to get well, as fast +as anything before he came.</p> + +<p>One afternoon Aunty May said to me, "Billy, I think you're strong enough +to go back to the house now. We've got rid of all the germs and the +sickness in this nice big white tent, and now, my little soldier, we'll +go back to barracks and wait for our Commanding Officer."</p> + +<p>We packed up my books and papers and went down the path to the house, +but it wasn't the same house any more.</p> + +<p>It was bigger, and all around it ran a wide piazza, and on it were big +wicker chairs, and Aunty May put me in one of them, and asked me how I +liked it. And I said it was lovely, and it was. Inside there were more +rooms than before and a bathroom with a big shiny tub and running water, +and while it was a country house still, it was much more like a +city house.</p> + +<p>Aunty May said, "Do you think Aunty Edith will like it?" and I said yes; +then she said, "Do you think a sick soldier would like to get well on +this piazza?" and I said I knew he would. It was the finest ever.</p> + +<p>We took hands and went around and looked at everything, and then we set +the table together. Aunty May wouldn't let Mrs. Katy Smith, who had +come to help, do a thing to the table. We set it for four people. So I +said, "Is company coming to dinner?" Aunty May hugged me and said, "Yes, +Billy, but it's a surprise. Don't ask." But I kept guessing,—Charlotte +and Grace Turner, and Mr. and Mrs. Turner, and everybody I knew in East +Penniwell, and Aunty May said, "You're cold. You're cold."</p> + +<p>Just then a carriage stopped at our door, and Aunty Edith got out, and +then a thin pale man got out, and he carried a cane and leaned on Aunty +Edith, and he came into the room: And IT WAS UNCLE BURT!</p> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="173.jpg (41K)" src="173.jpg" height="445" width="568"> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<p>I gave such a yell that Aunty Edith looked frightened and Aunty May +threw her arms about me and said, "Oh, Billy dear, don't get excited. +It's bad for—" But Uncle Burt said, "No, it isn't. It's good for me." +And he went to hug me, but Aunty May hadn't got her arms untwisted from +me yet, so that he hugged both of us. He didn't seem to notice it at +all until I pointed out to him that it was me he wanted and that he was +kissing Aunty May, and he said, "Dear me, you don't say so"—and kissed +her again. Then he kissed me.</p> + +<p>He sat down, and Aunty May and me went and stood by him. That is, I +stood by him and leaned on his well knee, and Aunty May kneeled down and +put her head on his hurt knee, and he didn't seem to mind it at all. He +put his hand on her head and smiled over to Aunty Edith, and she came +and said, "Come, Billy, show me the house."</p> + +<p>I said, "Yes, Aunty Edith, but first I want to give Aunty May back to +Uncle Burt. She's all right, the germs didn't hurt her, though she got +quite thin taking care of me."</p> + +<p>"Did she, poor girl," said Uncle Burt.</p> + +<p>Aunty May lifted her head up and said, "And Billy's all right. I took +care of him,—for you."</p> + +<p>Then Uncle Burt smiled at us both. His old smile, though he was so +dreadful thin and pale. He said, "Well, and now I've come home to look +after you both."</p> + +<p>I showed Aunty Edith the house, and she told me all about her journey, +and how long it took her, and how sick Uncle Burt was then, and how +much better he was now; and that though he would always walk with a +limp, he wouldn't need a crutch,—which made me very glad.</p> + +<p>Then Uncle Burt and Aunty May came in, and Aunty Edith kissed Aunty May +and they went to take off Aunty Edith's hat.</p> + +<p>Uncle Burt let me take him to his room, and he told me, while I fished +out a handkerchief for him and brushed his hair, that Aunty May was +going to marry him and be my real Aunty, and I was to live with them +both for always.</p> + +<p>So this is a good place to end W.A.G.'s Tale.</p> + +<p>THE END</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of W. A. 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