Part 20 (1/2)
John nodded ecstatically. Then a lump caught in his throat and held him speechless for a moment. After all, he was out of the fun, and he hadn't the heart to tell his chum, either. He turned to leave.
That afternoon the clan gathered again on the turf beside the shack and went over the evening's campaign. The new family in the large green house across the road still had a big swing suspended from the veranda ceiling. If they didn't remove it, the boys intended to. Sid DuPree reported that the gate on Otton's back fence could be lifted from its hinges very easily. It would be great fun to replace the bit of porch furniture with it. As for doormats, the preoccupied neighborhood doctor had left his out last Halloween, and could be depended on to do it again; also, there were the apartment entrances, each with a heavy rubber mat in front of the stone steps. As for the can-and-string trick, the frame dwelling where the fat little tailor lived was marked for the experiment, as were a half dozen others.
”Gee,” chuckled Silvey, ”don't you wish it was dark now?”
John fingered his pea shooter wistfully.
At last the welcome dusk blotted out the long shadows on the railroad tracks and the ”Tigers” filed stealthily out of the yard to commence the skirmis.h.i.+ng before supper, which always came as a prelude to the more important evening campaign. They darted up and down steps, rang doorbells, and raised eery cat-calls which echoed between the houses, and pelted pedestrians to their hearts' content.
Presently the door of the big green house swung open and threw a shaft of golden light across the leaf-strewn macadam, over against the Alford dwelling, which stood opposite. Four white-sheeted figures danced down the steps and paraded on the walk in front of the home lot, tooting horns and performing antics in a manner which no set of self-respecting ghosts ever dreamed of.
”Her kids,” John snapped scornfully. ”'Member how she chased us out of the street last Sat.u.r.day because we were making too much noise with our tops? Come on!”
They divided silently into two parties. The one slipped across the road on tiptoe and hugged the shadows of the houses as they advanced, halting finally under the shelter of an adjacent porch. The other walked boldly some distance down the walk on the far side of the street, crossed over, also, and executed a similar maneuver.
Suddenly a pea caught the biggest of the four apparitions on the nose and caused him to drop his horn to the sidewalk. As he stooped to pick it up, a volley sent his younger brothers and sister scurrying porchward, amid cries of ”Mamma! Mamma! Mamma!” The ”Tigers” yelled gleefully. John forgot himself so far as to dance incautiously into the path of light. Then from the shadows of the porch swing--that same swing which was to transport itself mysteriously far down the street in the evening--emerged the tall, angular figure which had driven them away that other Sat.u.r.day.
”Jiggers!” came the shout of warning.
”John Fletcher!” That doughty leader retreated to the shelter of the shadows. ”I'll telephone your mother this minute. Such a lot of bullies I've never seen before in my life!”
The boys were in for it. Nevertheless, they listened to the prolonged tirade with suppressed amus.e.m.e.nt. Its conclusion was an order to the quartette to go down on the walk again.
”They won't touch a hair of your heads now,” she boasted unwisely.
Again came the stinging volleys on the sheeted figures. A few of the peas flew by chance, or otherwise, in the direction of the protectress, herself.
”Come into the house this minute,” she called to her brood. ”I'll fix 'em.”
The door slammed angrily. Through a front window, the boys could see her at the telephone in the lighted hallway. They redoubled the bombardment of the house in defiance.
Across the street a door creaked. Mrs. Alford's voice carried to where the excited little group stood.
”Per-e-e-e, it's nearly seven. Supper is ready. Come in and get washed right away!”
The ”Tigers” gasped and dispersed quickly. Half-past six was the deadline for the evening meal with most of them, and parental scoldings were in order.
”See you at eight,” Silvey called as he turned north.
John stopped short. Hang that party!
”I w-won't be with the gang,” he quavered.
”What?” Bill could scarcely believe his ears. John explained haltingly.
”That kid! I knew she'd make trouble.”
The murder was out; the worst was over with. But it would never do to let his chum think that he regretted the choice.
”Oh, I don't know.” John gathered courage and glibness as he went on.
”Saw two ice cream freezers going in the back way this afternoon, and Jiminy, Silvey, her mother's some cook. Louise says [he hadn't laid eyes on that lady since Friday] she's just baked four chocolate layer cakes with nuts and candies in the frosting. And there's lots of other things.