"I'll show you!" Sube bent over Gyp the Blood and gazed steadily into the brightly gleaming eyes. Meanwhile he had begun to whistle a little tune strangely reminiscent of the Streets of Cairo. But Gyp the Blood did not easily succumb to hypnotic suggestion. He continued to growl peevishly and lashed the floor with the loose end of his tail.Closer and closer bent Sube. The growling diminished. Then it ceased altogether. The distance between the eyes of the boy and the eyes of the cat became a matter of inches. Then there was a terrific snarl!
Sube fell over on his back howling with pain and holding both hands to his nose.
"It's jus' like charmin' snakes," remarked Gizzard as he struggled to control his laughter. "It's all right if it works!" Then, catching sight of Sube's nose, he exclaimed, "Gee! He handed you a good one on the nose! Hurt much?"
"No, not much," Sube prevaricated, for he considered the admission of pain unethical for all save girls and cry-babies. "But I know how to do it now!"
"How to hypnotize 'im?"
"Don't get cute, now! No; how to get him out of that net. We'll put 'im in the cage net and all, and then while you hammer on the box and poke 'im with a stick I'll hook the net with a piece of wire and yank like Holy Moses!"
And it was done. And in less than two hours from the time of his capture, Gyp the Blood was safe behind the bars. But his fiery spirit was far from subdued. His eyes glowed as fiercely as before,and his blasphemous growling was none the less continual.
During the afternoon two more victims were brought in, and the Big Game establishment of Cane & Tobin began to sound like something. The necessity of a commissary department was also discovered. Plates and saucers were easy enough to purloin, but very hard to fill three times a day.
On account of the lack of confidence usually displayed by parents in the mercantile ventures of their sons, most of the youthful business of our country is run on the basis of a shady enterprise. The catching of cats for the market proved to be no exception to this rule. The strictest possible secrecy was maintained. It is therefore not unreasonable to assume that the commissariat obtained its supplies elsewhere than from the homes of the partners. It was at this particular time that Elder Woodruff's Jersey cow was guilty of an unaccountable shrinkage in milk; and as foraging in the enemy's country is held to be permissible in time of extremity, perhaps— But there was no proof.
Business was good; and by closing time on Wednesday the firm had in stock ten high-grade, hand-picked stray cats. But Thursday passed without a haul. Likewise Friday morning. The conclusionthat the stray cat had become extinct was more than once hinted at. And, while no formal campaign against the pet cat was inaugurated, Sube returned from lunch bearing in his arms a hirsute beauty that might easily have claimed descent from the Shah of Persia. A short time afterwards Gizzard carelessly sauntered in with an Angora kitten.
Sube's offering, which was large and portly, instantly reminded Gizzard of Mrs. Rude's Snowdrop; but he reflected that all white cats look more or less alike and refrained from making any mention of the likeness. He also neglected to say that he had found his contribution on the walk in front of Nancy Guilford's house. He reasoned that cats do not ordinarily play around in the street in front of their owner's homes. He had heard that somebody had given Nancy a kitten, but reports are likely to be exaggerated. And while Gizzard had always suspected that there was something between Sube and Nancy, it came to him now with compelling force that he had never beentoldanything about it; and perhaps he understood that mere inferences are not regarded as the best evidence by the authorities.
And when partners begin to keep things from each other the breakers are usually not far away.
Saturday passed quietly. No captures were made, no prospects sighted. But on Sunday Gizzard began to hear things. Certain inquisitive boys in his Sunday School class interrogated him as to the progress of the new business, and were especially curious to know what disposition was to be made of the captives. Gizzard dismissed them as prying ninnies, and more than thrice denied the existence of the enterprise.
After Sunday School Sube proceeded homeward a few laggard steps, when his attention was arrested by a most unusual anthill in a crack near the center of the sidewalk. He paused to investigate it, for he was greatly interested in ants, especially on Sunday. On several prior occasions he had pointed out to other naturalists, notably Nancy Guilford, certain peculiarities he had observed in the industrious insects. Pleasant discussions had been almost sure to follow. But to-day something was amiss. Nancy swept by without so much as a glance at the youngnaturalist. His first impulse was to call out to her, but the peculiar way she had brushed aside her skirts as she passed him counseled silence. So he pretended that he had not noticed her, and for several minutes confined his attention to the anthill. Then he crossed the street and passed along the other side utterly oblivious of all the world.
These things had not escaped Gizzard's observation, but he said in his heart, "It means nothing. It is the way of woman." However, on the morrow when he heard Nancy shout across the street to a companion that Sube Cane had stolen her new kitten and that her father was going to have him arrested, they took on a new and horrible significance.
He was irresistibly drawn to Cane's barn, where he found Sube peacefully seated among his yowling charges.
"Oh! You're still here, are you?" Gizzard asked nervously.
"Sure. Where'd you think I'd be?"
"Well, I didn't know. You can never tell! A feller never knows what's goin' to happen to 'im!" was the cryptic response.
Sube looked at Gizzard with a new found interest. "Say, what's the matter of you? You're as white as a sheet!"
"I ain't feelin' very good," Gizzard admitted. "I feel kind o' weak right here." He placed a hand over his stomach as he added, "Guess I'd better be goin' home."
"Better not!" cautioned Sube. "Your mother'll give you a dose of castor oil!"
"No she won't," muttered Gizzard weakly. "I'm goin' anyhow."
"Seen any strays to-day?" Sube called after him as he went out of the door.
"Nope. S'long!"
"S'long!"
Twice that afternoon Gizzard returned, and each time went away complaining of weakness in his middle. Why he did not tell Sube what he had heard can never be explained, for Gizzard did not know himself. Perhaps he did not wish to have his partner unduly alarmed by rumors that might turn out to be false. But when he came rushing into the barn after supper, he told what had been on his mind, without further delay.
"Hey, Sube!" he cried in a tremulous voice. "You gotta get out of here! He jus' went in your house lookin' for you!"
He caught Sube by the arm and dragged him towards the door.
"What I got to get out for?" asked the amazed cat-catcher.
"Dan Lan-non!" enunciated the terrified informant. "He's goin'ta'restyou!"
At the name of this grim officer of the law all felons trembled. Sube was no exception to the rule. He grew deathly pale. He had that empty feeling in his interior that Gizzard had complained of. He vaguely wondered what crime he had committed, but did not stop to inquire, as Gizzard dragged him feverishly towards the back door of the barn. Once outside he seemed to recover possession of his senses and assumed the lead. He conducted Gizzard to the midst of a clump of blackberry bushes in the rear of a deserted house not far away, and there Gizzard unburdened his soul.
Sube was scared. He was petrified. But he was faithful to the last. He could not believe that Nancy had betrayed him.
"It must of been that ol' M's Rude," he kept repeating. "Itmustof been! It couldn't of been—anybody else! Now I wonder if that big cat with the long hair belonged to her."
"Wonder? Ain't yousure?"
"Why, it looked like hers, but—"
"It wasn't M's Rude," declared Gizzard. "Itwas Nancy Guilford! Why, didn't she say she was goin' to have you—!"
"Girlssaylots of things they don't mean."
"Yes, but she said it, and then it happened!"
"I don't care what shesaid! I tell you it was that ol' M's Rude!" Sube burst out angrily. Then modifying his tone he continued: "But that don't cut any ice anyway! What I want to know is, what we goin' to do?"
Then followed a long discussion of the possibilities, and, as neither of the fugitives was willing to be taken alive, there seemed to be only one alternative: flight. Alaska was discarded as too cold, and South America as too hot. That portion of Texas nearest to the Mexican line seemed to offer the most tempting prospects for a "career," and Sube had begun to take a bit of grim comfort in the pangs that he felt sure Nancy Guilford must endure as she came to realize that she had made a desperado of him, when an idea flashed into his brain with the brilliancy of a searchlight.
"Say!" he gasped. "Why couldn't we sneak back there and let the derned ol' cats out! Then we'd lay low till they had time to get back to their homes—!"
"You're on!" cried Gizzard.
They made their way out of their retreat, unmindful of the scratching thorns, and cautiously retraced their steps to the barn.
"I never heard 'em so quiet before," whispered Sube. "S'pose they're all asleep?"
"Prob'ly," replied Gizzard. "It must be awful late."
They lighted a stump of a candle that had been hidden away for just such emergencies, and ascended the dusty stairs. Horror seized them as they found their place of business in wildest disorder, with the cages upset and broken open and every cat gone. Through the flickering gloom they stared at each other dumbfounded, bewildered; their last faint glimmer of hope gone.
"Where do you s'pose—" faltered Gizzard, but he was unable to say more.
"Dan must've got 'em for proof!" groaned Sube.
"What'll weeverdo!" snivelled Gizzard.
"Now I s'pose wegotto beat it!" replied Sube in a voice husky with emotion.
A long hoarse whistle startled them.
"A freight train!" cried Sube. "If it stops, we'll jump it!"
They tumbled down the stairs, blew out the candle, and restoring it to its hiding place, started on a run for the railroad station some three blocks away. As they passed under an electric light on the corner they heard a shout behind them; but instead of stopping to investigate they put on more speed. After a little Gizzard looked back and caught a glimpse of their pursuer.
"It's Dan Lannon all right!" he panted. "And he's after us!"
The fugitives pressed forward to the very limit of their speed. Suddenly with a roar and a rumble the freight train pulled into the station and came to a stop, effectively blocking the street along which they were going. To clamber aboard at that point was not to be thought of, for an electric light at the crossing made the entire neighborhood as light as day. A flank movement was inevitable.
Sube dashed to the right, calling to Gizzard to follow. But Gizzard had already started towards the left. By the time the boys discovered their mistake the enemy was already threatening their lines of communication; and so they were separated.
Gizzard skirted the rear end of the freight train and went directly home, where he was sent to bed and no questions asked. But Sube cut in between two houses, fell over a flower bed, caught his chin on aclothesline, tore his pants on a barbed-wire fence, and skinned his knee against a woodpile. Then he found himself in his own back yard with no place to go. He tarried in the dark shadows recovering his wind and feeling, no doubt, quite like the prodigal son. But he did not tarry long. There were too many mysterious sounds on all sides to suit him. He must go somewhere. Only one place presented itself; so he clambered up a post of the back porch, and slipping through the window was soon cuddled up spoon-fashion to his sleeping brother, Cathead.
And there his mother found him an hour later, sound asleep. She called his father. "Look in the bed," she said. "Here we've been worrying about Sube and all the time he was right where he belonged. He must have come in while you were talking to Mr. Lannon."
"That's very likely," his father agreed; "but I wonder what he's been up to. I'm always suspicious of Sube when he does anything he ought to."
"Don't you think you'd better call up Mr. Lannon and tell him that Sube has come home? He might go all around looking for him."
"Don't you worry about Dan Lannon! He won't bother himself to look for anybody unless he has received his mileage in advance. I didn't askhim to look for Sube, anyway; I simply told him to send the boy home if he happened to see him."
When Sube woke up the bright sunlight was streaming in the window. He was inclined to believe that the whole affair had been a nightmare. But a lump on his knee and a ragged rent in his trousers seemed to indicate that parts of it, at least, were real. It was soon apparent that Cathead knew nothing of his brother's criminal offense, for immediately on waking up he asked:
"Where were you so late last night?"
"Nowheres much. Just round here everyplace."
"Who was with you?"
"Giz."
"Jus' the two of you?"
"Yes, the two of us! Say, what you think this is? A game of truth?"
"You better go to bed earlier," replied Cathead, "if it makes you so dern' cross to stay up late."
"Boys!" called their mother from the foot of the stairs. "Breakfast is ready! Come right down!"
When Sube reached the breakfast table and observed that his father had already gone he breathed a sigh of relief. Then it struck him that it might be an unfavorable sign. To his guilty conscience everything seemed suspicious. He glanced furtivelyat his mother and was not reassured. Something about her reminded him of the way she looked the day she took him to the dentist to have a tooth pulled.
"I didn't hear you come in last night, Sube," she remarked at length.
Sube started. "Ma'am?" he said defensively; then it occurred to him that he did not care to have the question repeated, and he added quickly, "No, ma'am."
"You must have come in while Mr. Lannon was here."
Sube swallowed hard. "Yes, ma'am," he almost whispered.
"Nobody heard you come in. When you slip in so quietly you ought to let me know. There's no telling how long Mr. Lannon may have hunted for you—"
The telephone rang. Mrs. Cane answered. It was Mr. Cane inquiring whether the carpenter had come to do some work on the barn. Sube heard his mother say:
"Yes, he's here now."
A moment later he heard her say in a low tone: "No, I won't let him get away before you come—"
Sube did not wait to hear more. He quietlyrose from his chair and slipped out of the front door. The back door would have been better, but it was directly in line with his mother's vision. As he leaped down the front steps he found himself face to face with Mrs. Rude, and before he could begin the retreat he instantly planned she opened fire on him.
"Good morning, Sube!" she called pleasantly. "I've found my kittie! She came back last night!"
Out of a whirling brain Sube tried to direct a suitable reply. The best he could do was:
"Yes'm."
For a moment his burden seemed to slip from him. Mrs. Rude wasn't after him at all! But when it began to dawn on him that it must have been Nancy after all who had put the police on his trail, his last state was worse than his first. His senses were paralyzed. He became deaf, dumb and blind. A young lady passing along the street found it necessary to speak to him twice before she was able to attract his attention.
At the second "Hello, Sube!" he turned, outrage written on every feature. But Nancy seemed to concede to him the right to be peevish, for she spoke again even more sweetly than before.
"See whatI'vegot!"
And for the first time Sube saw in her arms a fluffy mass of white fur adorned by a huge pink bow.
It was her kitten!
Again Sube had the empty feeling; but this time it was, no doubt, because he had slighted his breakfast. Nancy passed on. And as he stood gazing after her he was dimly conscious of the stopping of an automobile; but he did not turn his eyes. He was too much engrossed in loving or hating; he didn't know which.
"Good morning, young man!"
Sube reluctantly turned his gaze to the speaker. It was Professor Silver—the one person in all the world (next to Dan Lannon) that Sube did not care to see. As the desperate boy battled with the temptation to turn and run, the professor began aggressively:
"Now, young man, I had an opportunity to motor to Geneva last evening with a friend of mine; and when I found there was plenty of room, I thought it an excellent opportunity to deliver the cats you had on hand. I was unable to find you about, so I took the liberty of appropriating some gunnysacks that were hanging in the barn."
Sube tried to speak, but before he was able to produce an intelligible sound, the professor began again.
"Now, young man, there were two of those cats that I could not use on account of their long fur. Persian cats are of absolutely no use to our biologicaldepartment. So I let the two go. That leaves ten merchantable cats to be accounted for at fifty cents a head." He held out to Sube a five dollar bill as he added: "I trust this will be satisfactory, young man. I want to be perfectly fair; but I do not feel that I should be required to pay for something that I could not use."
Sube gazed at the banknote in his hand and wondered if he was in the midst of another dream as he gulped out something that the professor took to be an acceptance of his offer, and retired. Sube was still gazing at the banknote when Cathead came out of the house.
"Oh, where'd you get that!" cried Cathead as he spied the greenback.
The sound of Cathead's voice brought Sube back to his senses. He folded up the bill with a pleasant crackling sound and thrust it into his pocket, and turning to Cathead said loftily:
"I owe a feller two dollars and a half; but that is neither here nor there. Want to go 'long and see me pay it to him?"
Probably the longest period of time that a boy is capable of comprehending is that which drags itself out between one Fourth of July and the next. From Christmas to Christmas is not nearly so long. This is a question that modern calendar makers should investigate, as Julius Cæsar seems to have overlooked it.
But in spite of everything the Fourth of July was actually approaching. It was only days away. Sube viewed the advent of the festival with more than ordinary equanimity. He still had two dollars left from the flyer in cats, and the authorities had apparently relaxed their efforts to get him. His continued passing of Dan Lannon on the other side of the street was simply the survival of an inborn prejudice against the conservators of law and order. It couldn't have been timidity.
As far as Sube and Gizzard were concerned, the customary pre-holiday rush for remunerative employment was a thing of the past. They lolled luxuriantly in the shade while the other boys were picking neighborhood cherries, manicuring the lawns and doing what they were pleased to call "odd jobs."
"What's the use killin' ourselves workin'?" Sube asked Gizzard one day as they lazily passed a ball back and forth in a listless game of catch. "Of course," he added in the bored tone of the idle rich, "if I didn't have money, I s'pose I'd get busy, too. I always like to give the ever-glorious Fourth a good send-off."
At the term "ever-glorious" Gizzard's hand was poised in air. He was tempted to put Sube out of his misery on the spot; but a natural repugnance to the destruction of human life stayed the stroke, and he returned the ball without intent to kill, albeit a little faster than Sube regarded as entirely necessary.
"Ouch!" cried Sube as the ball stung his bare hand. "Say! What you think you're playin'? Stinger? I'll show you that two can play at that game!"
He returned the ball with a vengeance.
Gizzard stepped aside and let it pass. "If you're goin' to sling that hot stuff you can chase it yourself," he muttered sullenly as he threw himself down on the grass.
"Me chase it!" howled Sube angrily. "Well, I won't! You didn't try to stop it at all!"
"I'm glad it ain'tmyball," remarked Gizzard with an affected lack of interest.
"It don't make any diff whose ball it is!" Sube glowered over his reclining chum. "You'll go and get that ball or I'll—"
"Hi, fellers! I've earned twenty cents already this morning!" came a voice from behind them.
This was from Biscuit Westfall, who had just emerged from the parsonage tugging a long set of quilting-frames.
"Throw in that ball, will you, Biscuit?" called Gizzard pleasantly. "It's right by the big elm tree."
Biscuit laid down his burden and complied with the request. Cordial relations were instantly restored.
"Gee! But there's go'n'ta be an ever-glorious bonfire to-night," Sube observed. "The kids have got two sheds back of the Gibson Block jus' cram-full of boxes and barrels—"
"Yes, but there ain't go'n'ta be no bells rung!" was Gizzard's discouraging interjection.
"Why not, ain't there?" demanded Sube.
"'Cause there ain't!"
"Why not? I'd like to know!"
"'Cause the board of trustees won't let us ring the firebell, and all the churches have put their solid-ivories together and agreed not to let their bells be rung! That's why not!"
"Aw, come off!" sneered Sube.
"I guess I know what's in the paper! Don't you read theCitizen?"
"Now what do you know about that!" exclaimed Sube disgustedly. "Ain't that a nice way to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth!"
"I call itrotten!" replied Gizzard feelingly; but it is safe to say that his feelings were aroused more by Sube's continued repetition of his new phrase, than disappointment over the modified form of welcome to the festal day prescribed by certain unpatriotic grown-ups who seemed to have forgotten that they once were young.
The neither-here-nor-there expression still rankled in Gizzard's memory, and now Sube was adding vinegar to the wound. But Gizzard realized the importance of keeping his feelings to himself. He knew that greater misery would be his lot if Sube ever found out how he felt about it.
"Rotten's no name for it," agreed Sube, scowling. "I guess those ol' guys have forgot how we signedthat Declaration of Independence from Germany—"
"Germany!" howled Gizzard derisively. "You said Germany! Why, it wasn't Germany at all! It wasFrance!"
"France nothin'! I tell you it was Germany!"
"Look here! They was red-coats, now wasn't they?"
"Yes, but the France soldiers wear redpants! Don't you know the diff between pants and coats! Ha-ha! Can't tell the diff between pants and coats!"
"Can, too! Can, too! Can, too! C-a-n,—t-o-o!" bawled Gizzard. "And, anyhow, I knew more'n you did about ringin' the bells! You didn't know nuthin' about it till I told you!"
"Yes, but I know a pair of pants from a—" Sube stopped short as an idea came to him. "Say!" he began eagerly, "what's to hinder our sneakin' up in the Prespaterian steeple and ringin' their ol' bell for em!"
Gizzard shook his head. "Nothin' doin'," he replied promptly. "The paper says there's goin' to be a watchman at every church in town."
Sube's face relapsed into a scowl. "Did it say who?" he asked half-heartedly.
"Jus' the sextant."
A look of great joy broke over Sube's countenance. "Ol' Hank Morley!" he cried. "Why, he's blind in one eye and can't hardly see out of the other! And he's so feeble he couldn't catch a louse!"
"But how could we get in?" asked Gizzard dubiously.
Sube glanced about for eavesdroppers as he whispered softly, "Cellar window! They been puttin' in coal for next winter and they've left the window out."
"Yes, but how could we—"
"Sneak in this afternoon after the last load of coal goes in, and climb up in the ol' steeple and wait there till they touch off the bonfire, and then we'll give that ol' bell the most ever-glorious ringin' it ever got!"
The details were soon arranged. Sube would invite Gizzard to his house for supper and to spend the night, and Gizzard would, in turn, invite Sube to his house for supper and lodging, and then! Nothing could be simpler.
A few moments later Sube was fingering his cap in the presence of Mrs. Tobin and bashfully requesting that Gizzard be permitted to accept the hospitality of the Cane household until the following morning.
"Why, it will be all right for Charley to take supper with you, Sube, but what about the bonfire to-night? I never allow Charley to be out so late alone, and his uncle Bert was going to take him to see it. He stopped in here a few minutes ago and said he'd come for Charley at about eleven."
Sube swallowed once or twice, and then managed to say, "Oh, that's all right! My mother won't let me go alone, either—"
"But who will go with you?" Mrs. Tobin persisted.
"Why,—why, my father's going with us!"
Mrs. Tobin was mildly astonished. "Yourfather?" she asked.
"Oh, yes'm! My father's crazy about fires! He's stuck on bonfires! But he likes every kind of fires. He always goes to fires, even in the middle of the night! He wouldn't miss one for anything! He says a big bonfire is the noblest way to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth, and he's never missed a single one since we signed the Declaration of Independence from the Germans!"
Sube glanced triumphantly at Gizzard while Mrs. Tobin was busy with her thoughts. She was a little uncertain whether Sube had misquoted his father or recent discoveries had upset some more of our traditional history. What the boy had said, sounded like his father, certainly; and she decided to read up her history a bit before attempting to correct him. But while thinking the matter over she busied herself by wrapping up a package containing a toothbrush and certain other nocturnal necessities for her son, and reminding him to wash behind his ears and put on a clean collar before he went.
"It was that there hist'ry that put it acrost," Gizzard admitted as he and Sube passed out of the house. "It must of been the Germans."
"Why I knew all the time it was the Germans! Don't you s'pose I know the hist'ry of the country I live in? Now you be sure you call it the Germans when you go in and spout beforemymother."
"Me?—Mespout beforeyourmother?"
"Yes,you! Didn't I spout 'foreyourmother?"
"Yes, Sube, but I ain't a very good spouter. I get too dumb scairt!"
"Now don't back out on me, Giz!" pleaded Sube, "I got you off, didn't I? Well, then, you gotta get me off! Now I'll tell you what to do. You tell her about your uncle Bert first pop, and then she won't have any excuse to say no!"
"I will if I can remember it," mumbled Gizzard. "I get so scairt I can't remember nothin'."
Not long afterwards The Peopleex relCane and Tobin against The Society for the Prevention of Unnecessary Noises, came on for hearing before Mrs. Justice Cane sitting at Special Term. The argument was opened on behalf of the relators by Mr. Gizzard Tobin. The speaker's voice which at first was very low and uncertain, gathered speed and volume as it proceeded, and finally ended in perfect fury of words.
"My—my mother—she wants to—to know can Sube come over to my house—for supper to-night—and she wants to know can he stay all night with me to-night till eleven o'clock—and then she'll call us and wake us up so's my uncle Bert he can come and get us and take us to see the bonfire—he likes bonfires, he likes every kind of fires, he always goes to fires in the night, he's gone to fires ever since the Germans set fire to the Declaration-ofinna-pen'ance—"
Gizzard's finish was not unlike the explosion of a cannon-cracker after the proper amount of sizzling at the fuse.
"What is it you are saying, Charley?" gasped Mrs. Cane.
Gizzard turned hopelessly to his co-petitioner. "You tell 'er, Sube."
"I'm invited to his house for supper and to stay all night," Sube interpreted calmly.
"But what about the Germans setting fire to the Declaration of Independence?"
"You didn't understand him, he talked so fast. His uncle Bert's dead stuck on bonfires—"
"Dead stuck?"
"He likes 'em," Sube corrected, "and he wants us to go to bed early, and then he'll call us a little before midnight, and take us up to see the bonfire for a little while, and then take us back home again."
"That isn't a good place for boys," ruled Mrs. Cane dubiously. "There's a very rough element at those bonfires. What does your mother think about it, Charley? Is she going to—"
"Sure she is! Isn't she, Giz?" interrupted Sube with great enthusiasm.
"Yes, ma'am," mumbled Gizzard unconvincingly.
"That's what he was tryin' to tell you," Sube enlarged. "She likes to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth, and she says she's never missed a bonfire since we signed the Declaration of Independence from the Germans!"
"If that's the case," said Mrs. Cane with a visible effort to retain control of herself, "I'll have to let you go—"
"Whoo-oo-pee-ee! Hoo-oo-ray!" and Sube bounded out of the house with Gizzard at his heels. "Three rousing cheers for the ever-glorious Fourth!"
And they were gone.
The boys experienced little difficulty in gaining entrance to the church through the cellar window, and noiselessly made their way to the gallery, from which they ascended a frail ladder leading to a hatchway in the ceiling. On raising the scuttle, Sube, who up to this time had maintained a somewhat aggressive lead, suddenly remembered his manners.
"Why, here, Giz," he said in a self-deprecatory tone, "here I been crowdin' ahead all the time. I'll bet you'd like to go first part of the way." And he nimbly descended the ladder and stepped to one side.
But Gizzard, too, had observed the pitchy darkness ahead. He, also, had felt the draft of hot stuffy air that rushed out at the opening of the hatchway. "I'm follerin' all right, ain't I?" he demanded with equal courtesy.
"Yes, but I don't want—"
"Well, go on, then!"
He caught Sube by the shoulder and gave him aforceful but friendly shove towards the ladder. Sube placed a tentative foot on the bottom rung and then turned back most considerately.
"But I don't want to hog the lead all the time," he explained courteously.
However, Gizzard was not to be outdone in politeness. He urged Sube forward with the most elegant sort of gruffness. "Get up that there ladder!" he ordered. "I'm right on your heels!"
Sube submitted to the inevitable and took the lead. Once in the loft he was able to discern another ladder. At the top of this was a third. Then followed several more. At last came another hatchway that opened into the blessed daylight, and the bell chamber itself. The boys were amazed at the size of the bell.
"It's bigger'n all outdoors with the lawn around it!" exclaimed Gizzard with an expression akin to awe. "S'pose we can ever ring it? If we can't we might as well be gettin' out of here."
"'Course we can ring it," was Sube's withering response; but at the same time he made a mental reservation.
"I s'pose we could swing that dinger back and forth if we couldn't do nothin' else," Gizzard admitted resignedly.
On concluding their examination of the bell they discovered that they were very high up in the air. The location of various points of interest occupied them for perhaps half an hour, and then time began to drag. It seemed a lifetime before darkness came, and meanwhile, the shouts of boys playing ball in a vacant lot not far away floated up to them with peculiar distinctness; and an outraged feeling in the place where the stomach was supposed to be, reminded them that supper-time had passed and they had failed to perform the customary epicurean exercises.
Gizzard was inclined to complain. He could think of lots of other things that would have been more fun. But Sube realized that it was too late to back out, and he bolstered up his ebbing courage by talking of the glory of achievement.
"Won't the other kids open their eyes, though, when they hear this ol' bell go boom—boo-oo-oo-oom! And won't they sit up and beg when they find out we're the ones who pulled it off!"
But Gizzard would not be comforted. "That's all right," he admitted, "only I wisht I was home in the pantry with a big bowl of bread and milk in front of me, and a piece of—"
"Yes, and how'd you like to have all the kidscallin' you 'Quitter' and tellin' you to go play with Biscuit Westfall?"
"You don't think I'm goin' to quit now, do you?" muttered Gizzard peevishly. "Can't I talk about some'pm to eat without goin' home to get it? Cer'nly I can!"
"Well, don't let's talk about it, anyway," was Sube's conciliatory reply. "I'm hungry enough as it is—"
At this point a family of bats that lived far up in the steeple decided to go out in search of their evening meal. For a few moments the air was literally filled with flapping wings. The youthful bellringers nearly died of fright before they discovered the cause of the mysterious noises.
By the time that they had recovered from this shock, the floor had begun to feel very much harder, and after a little they decided to lie down and rest their heads on the mysterious bundles they had brought with them. Suddenly Gizzard sat up with a jerk.
"Say!" he gasped. "Now weareup against it!"
"Up against what?" asked Sube languidly.
"We dassent ring that bell!" Gizzard exclaimed in a tone of subdued alarm.
"Why not! I'd like to know!" demanded Sube, rising quickly to a sitting posture.
"With ol' Hank Morley waitin' right at the bottom of the ladder when we come down!"
Sube collapsed. "Gosh! I didn't think about that."
"The minute we begun to ring that bell," Gizzard enlarged, "he'd duck right to the bottom of the ladder, and he'd wait there for us if we stayed up here a week!" After a moment he added hoarsely, "Prob'ly they'd starve us out!—Or else send Dan Lannon up after us!"
"Well," Sube responded weakly, "we can't get outnow! We got to wait till ol' Hank goes home—"
"Yes, and we'll miss the bonfire!" whined Gizzard. "You got me into anicepickle this time!"
"Well, why didn't you think of it before?" was Sube's feeble defense.
"Why didn'tyouthink of it when you was thinkin' of the rest?" returned Gizzard. Then contriving a particularly cruel thrust he added maliciously: "This'll be aniceway to celebrate the ever-glorious Fourth!"
If Gizzard could have seen Sube's face he would have felt repaid for his efforts; but darkness prevented, and the depths of Sube's chagrin were never known.
"I'm layin' down now," was all he said.
Then Gizzard stabbed again. "This'll be a ever-glorious place to see that ever-glorious bonfire," he taunted.
"I wonder if those bats'll be comin' back pretty quick," Sube ventured by way of a chastened response.
"Well, if one of the ever-glorious little cusses ever comes flappin' roundme, I'll knock his ever-glorious brains out!" threatened Gizzard as he settled back on his comfortless pillow.
Sube made no reply. But as long as Gizzard was able to keep his eyes open he babbled of things ever-glorious. It was not long, however, before they both slept. And below them, stretched at full length on a pew in the church, Hank Morley also slept.
Midnight approached. A mammoth bonfire was laid in the street at the bank corner. Butch Bosworth and Dick Bissell took a turn past the Baptist Church and, observing the sexton on guard before the door, passed on. At the Presbyterian Church they found the coast apparently clear. The porch was vacant, and there was no light to be seen inside.They were not long in locating the open cellar-window, through which they crawled and stealthily made their way to the gallery. And as the town clock began the stroke of twelve the Presbyterian church-bell set up such a pealing and clanging as it had never before been heard to utter.
In the nave of the church Hank Morley awoke with a start. He leaped to his feet and rushed to a small closet near the foot of the single stairway leading to the gallery, and, opening the door, caught up a lighted lantern. As he went clumping up the gallery stairs, the tumult in the steeple suddenly ceased. Two dark figures slunk from the vicinity of the bellrope and took refuge beneath the pews.
"Hands up!" ordered Hank, taking his stand at the head of the stairs and leveling a shining object at the marauders.
Two pairs of dirty hands went up instantly.
"Come out of there or I'll shoot!" cried Hank.
Butch and Dick rose up and stood cowering before him. Hank raised his lantern and scrutinized their guilty faces with his one good eye.
"I know ye both!" he announced at length. "Now march down that pair o' stairs and wait for me at the bottom. No boltin', or I'll shoot!"
On reaching the foot of the stairs Hank steppedover to the front door, and lowering his shining weapon, stuck it into the keyhole and unlocked the door.
"Breakin' into a place what's locked, isburglary!" he told them crabbedly. "Did ye know that?"
The boys' answer, if indeed they made any, was swallowed up by the tumultuous booming of the church bell, which began at that moment with the unexpectedness of a thunderclap.
"What! Didn't I get all of ye?" cried Hank, starting for the stairs.
But there was no answer, for before Hank had taken two steps Butch and Dick were gone.
The same stroke of the bell that had brought Henry Morley out of his slumbers, had startled the two boys in the bell chamber almost out of their wits. For some moments they clung to each other in terror, not comprehending where they were or what was happening. That they were on the brink of destruction, neither one doubted. In such close quarters the vibration and reverberation were terrific. The sound was much more like the roar of a cannon than the joyful pealing of a church bell.
Gradually the situation dawned on them, but they dared not move for fear of being struck by theswinging bell. However, the moment the clamor ceased—which it soon did—Sube scrambled to his feet, and giving Gizzard a healthy prod with his foot, he cried:
"It was a fake! An ever-glorious fake, what you read in the paper!"
"I guess it was, all right," muttered Gizzard as he got up and began to investigate the condition of his eardrums by poking a finger into each ear. "It must of been!"
By the light of the bonfire which now was shining through the window-slats they could see that the bell was still swinging back and forth, but in too small an arc to cause the clapper to strike.
"They must of got tired!" cried Sube. "See! They're tryin' to ring it and can't. Let's jump onto the wheel and help 'em!"
"All right!" was Gizzard's prompt response.
"Now I'll jump on this side, and you jump on that side!" shouted Sube. "We'll work it like a see-saw!"
As they rocked, the bell gathered momentum, and presently began to peal with the regularity of a clock. This was kept up for fully five minutes before they dropped off thoroughly exhausted.
"Woof!—Poof!—Woofoo-oo-oo!" puffedSube. "Wonder who it was down below. Some of the kids prob'ly, or they wouldn't of got tired so quick."
"Whee-ee-ee-ew!" blew Gizzard. "Hot work!"
"Hey! I got a scheme!" Sube announced gleefully. "Let's put on our pajamas and scare those kids when we come down!"
Gizzard was not averse to this form of amusement, but he still clung to the old-fashioned nightgown.
"Better yet!" cried Sube. "That'll look more like a spook than my pajamas will! Pile into it!"
So, clad in their night-clothes they began to feel their way down the series of ladders in the inky-black steeple. Somehow they managed to reach the hatchway leading down into the gallery, and Sube, who was in the lead, was groping for the top of the ladder when Gizzard felt him suddenly recoil.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Oh, Lordy!" gasped Sube as he drew back into the loft.
Gizzard was alarmed. "What's the matter?" he repeated. "What is it?"
"Ol' Hank Morley—" was all Sube could say.
"Maybe it's all right," said Gizzard reassuringly."He rung it himself, didn't he! Try it! Go on down!"
"I can't! He took the ladder away!"
As Gizzard sank back weakly, voices were heard in the gallery below.
"How many is there?" asked a hoarse grating voice that they both recognized as Elder Jones's.
"They's a number of 'em all right," replied the sexton. "Look at how they ringed that bell! I can't ring it like that myself, and I been practicin' on it for nigh thirty year! They must be half a dozen of 'em, at least!"
"Well, they can't get down till we put the ladder back; but you better wait here and watch for 'em while I step over to my house and 'phone for an officer. I won't be gone long."
And Elder Jones tramped out with a very determined tread emphasized at each alternate step by an equally determined rap from his cane.
Hank Morley sat down on the top step of the gallery stairs, his trusty lantern beside him. From his coat pocket he produced a fragrant Missouri meerschaum, and although smoking was strictly forbidden in the church, he felt that he was entitled to certain indulgences, and accordingly filled and lighted it. He had taken only a few puffs when he heard anoise behind him and glanced casually back over his shoulder. Instantly the glance became a stare that was far from casual, for, floating in mid-air between the floor and the ceiling he beheld two white figures that sailed back and forth gracefully and seemed to have no difficulty in navigating the thin air.