Part 2 (2/2)

Down goes the cat, wriggling so natural she near lost a half a dozen of her lives before I recovered enough to interfere. I resisted a craving to kick Mr. Sandy over the barn, and struck in to amuse him at something else. First off, he hung back, but by and by I had him tearing around lively, because we were aboard s.h.i.+p with a storm coming up to port, a pirate to sta'bbud, breakers forrud, and a rocky coast aft. Anybody would step quick under them conditions. So Sandy he moseyed aloft and hollered down the pirates was gaining on us, the storm approaching fast, the breakers breaking worse than ever, and the rock-bound coast holding its own. I hastily mounted three cord wood cannon, reefed the barn door, and battened down the hatches in the chicken-coop, without a hen being the wiser.

We were in the most interesting part when an unexpected enemy arrived on the scene, in the person of Sandy's mother, and did us in a single pa.s.s.

She saw him up in the tree; she give me one glare and begun to talk.

I climbed the fence and went home. All the way back I felt this was a wicked and ungrateful world. The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. I wanted to get to my own room without mother's seeing me, but she came to the head of the stair when I was half up. ”Well, son,” she says, smiling so it didn't seem quite such a desert, ”how did you make out with the little Gray boy?”

”Oh, not anything special,” says I, airily, hoping to pa.s.s by.

”Come in and tell me,” she says. So I went in, hedging at first, but limbering up when she stroked my hair. Finally my wrongs come out hot and fast. I told about his hanging the cat, and made it as bad as I could. I enlarged upon the care and pains I spent in leading him into better ways.

”And, then,” says I, ”just as we were having a good time, that mother of his comes out. And what do you suppose she says?”

Mother rubbed her hand over her mouth, swallowed once or twice, and managed to look as serious as anything. ”I can't imagine,” she answers; ”you tell me.”

I shook my finger. ”Can I say exactly what that woman said?”

”Yes.”

”Well,” says I, imitating Mrs. Gray, voice and all--voice like a horse-fiddle, head stuck front, and elbows wide apart--”well,” I says, ”she looked up the tree and saw Sandy. 'Sandy Gra-a-y!' she hollers; 'Sandy Gray! You one-eyed, warp-sided, nateral-born fool! What you mean, playing with that Bill Saunders? You come in this house quick, afore you git you' other gol-d.a.m.n eye knocked out!'”

Mother dropped her sewing and had a fit on the spot. That made me mad for a minute. Then I laughed, too.

”Don't give up, Will,” says mother. ”It takes time to learn to do the right thing. You kiss your mother and forget all about it--you didn't want Mrs. Gray to pay you for amusing Sandy, anyway, did you?”

”Of course not,” I replies. ”But she needn't of.... Darn him, he was hanging a cat!”

Mother went off the handle again.

”Perhaps you _like_ people who hang cats?” I says, very scornful, the sore spot hurting again.

”Now, Will, don't be silly!” says mother. ”Try again; think how funny it would have seemed to you, if it had happened to any one else.”

”That's so,” I admits, my red hair smoothing down. ”Well, I'll try again; but no more Sandy Grays.”

IV

THE FIGHT

The next day my friend Mrs. Gray waylaid father, and told him fervently she didn't want me teachin' her Sandy none of my fool tricks.

And the old gentleman read me the riot act trimmed me to a peak, by word of mouth. There's where me and righteous conduct near parted company.

I'm afraid I sa.s.sed the old man a little. I was awful sore, you know.

Anyway, it wound up unpleasant. Father wouldn't listen to my side, as usual, and I'll leave it to any man that's tried to do the right thing and had it explode with him to realize how I felt. Boys have feelings.

There's lots of folk don't believe it, but I've studied boys to a certain extent, and I'm willing to bet small sums they're almost like persons in that respect.

I got ugly under the pressure. Then I beat the head near off Anker's slimy little whelp, as the only relief in sight. That was dead wrong. He was 'way smaller 'n me, and hadn't done nothing at the time to deserve it. I went on father's principle that although no immediate cause was visible, yet there was plenty in the past and future to lick him for, so I lammed his both eyes black, bunged up his nose, and sent him hollering home. He met our schoolteacher on the way. Mr. Judson and I come together fairly regular, yet we liked each other. He was a square man, Samuel Judson, and he knew kids from thirty years' experience. He never made but one mistake with me, and he come out and begged my pardon before the whole school for that. Father sneered at his doing it--saying a teacher ought to uphold discipline, and to beg a boy's pardon was just inviting all kinds of skulduggery. Howsomever, Sammy Judson won me by that play. When he put the gad on me it was with the best of feelings on both sides. I can see the old lad now, smiling a thin little smile, sort of sourcastic, yet real kind underneath, whilst he twiddled the switch in his hands.

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