Part 5 (1/2)
The Unwiseman paused for a moment.
”I'm looking for the Captain,” he called back. ”I find I forgot to tell the burgular who's rented my house that he mustn't steal my kitchen stove until I get back, and I want the Captain to turn around and go back for a few minutes so that I can send him word.”
”He wouldn't do that, Mr. Me,” said Mollie.
”Then let him set me on sh.o.r.e somewhere where I can walk back,” said the Unwiseman. ”It would be perfectly terrible if that burgular stole my kitchen stove. I'd have to eat all my bananas and eclairs raw, and besides I use that stove to keep the house cool in summer.”
”There isn't any sh.o.r.e out here to put you on,” said Mollie.
”Where's your bottle of native land?” jeered Whistlebinkie. ”You might walk home on that.”
”Hush, Whistlebinkie,” said Mollie. ”Don't make him angry.”
”Well,” said the Unwiseman ruefully. ”I'm sure I don't know what to do about it. It is the only kitchen stove I've got, and it's taken me ten years to break it in. It would be very unfortunate just as I've got the stove to do its work exactly as I want it done to go and lose it.”
”Why don't you send a wireless message?” suggested Mollie. ”They've got an office on board, and you can telegraph to him.”
”First rate,” said the old man. ”I'd forgotten that.” And the Unwiseman sat down and wrote the following dispatch:
DEAR MR. BURGULAR:
Please do not steal my kitchen stove. If you need a stove steal something else like the telephone book or that empty bottle of Woosters.h.i.+re Sauce standing on the parlor mantel-piece with the daisy in it, and sell them to buy a new stove with the money. I've had that stove for ten years and it has only just learned how to cook and it would be very annoying to me to have to get a new one and have to teach it how I like my potatoes done. You know the one I mean. It's the only stove in the house, so you can't get it mixed up with any other. If you do I shall persecute you to the full extent of the law and have you arrested for petty parsimony when I get back. If you find yourself strongly tempted to steal it the best thing to do is to keep it red hot with a rousing fire on its insides so that it will be easier for you to keep your hands off.
Yours trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.
P.S. Take the poker if you want to but leave the stove. It's a wooden poker and not much good anyhow.
Yours trooly, THE UNWISEMAN.
”There!” he said as he finished writing out the message. ”I guess that'll fix it all right.”
”It-tortoo,” whistled Whistlebinkie through the top of his hat.
”What?” said Mollie, severely.
”It-ought-to-fix-it,” repeated Whistlebinkie.
And the Unwiseman ran up the deck to the wireless telegraph office. In a moment he returned, his face full of joy.
”I guess I got the best of 'em that time!” he chortled gleefully. ”What do you suppose Mollie? They actually wanted me to pay twenty-one dollars and sixty cents for that telegram. The very idea!”
”Phe-ee-ew!” whistled Whistlebinkie.
”Very far from few,” retorted the Unwiseman. ”It was many rather than few and I told the man so. 'I can buy five new kitchen stoves for that amount of money,' said I. 'I can't help that,' said the man. 'I guess you can't,' said I. 'If you could the price o' kitchen stoves would go up'.”
”What did you do?” asked Mollie.
”I told him I was just as wireless as he was, and I tossed my message up in the air and last time I saw it it was flying back to New York as tight as it could go,” said the Unwiseman. ”I guess I can send a message without wires as well as anybody else. It's a great load off my mind to have it fixed, I can tell you,” he added.
”What have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last, Mr. Me?”