Part 36 (2/2)

They proceeded out to the road, whence they turned and went in the direction of the inn. Tim thought of the pumpkin, and his heart sank. He was going to ”catch it” for that, he thought.

They came up to the flag-staff presently, and Tim repressed a chuckle with difficulty; for there, as on the night they had sent it aloft, hung the big pumpkin, grinning down on them both.

”There,” said Colonel Witham, ”you didn't have any hand in that--oh, no!

You wouldn't do it, of course. You never did nothing to hurt. I know you. But see here, youngster”--and he gave a twist to Tim's wrist--”you've got to get it down, do you understand?”

Tim gave a sigh of relief. It wasn't a ”whaling,” after all.

”Now,” continued Colonel Witham, eying him sharply, ”perhaps you had a hand in that, and perhaps you didn't. I don't know and I don't care.

What I want is, to get it down. You needn't say you didn't do it, because I wouldn't believe any of you boys, anyway. But I'm going to do the right thing.” The colonel hesitated a moment. ”I'm going to be handsome about it. You get that down and I'll give you a quarter--twenty-five cents, do you hear?”

Little Tim nodded.

”Well,” Colonel Witham went on, ”you give me that fish-pole. I'm not going to have you cut and run. I'm too smart for that.”

So saying, the colonel seized the boy's fish-pole, and relinquished his grasp of his wrist.

”Reckon you won't run away long as I've got this,” he said. ”Now can you s.h.i.+n that pole?”

”Sure,” replied Tim. He glanced up at the lofty peak of the flag-staff, then began removing his shoes and stockings. He was up the pole the next moment like a squirrel, clinging fast with arms and bare toes. Half-way up he rested, by clutching the halyard and twisting it about his arm.

”Little monkey!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Colonel Witham; ”I'd give a dollar to know if he put it up there. Well, reckon I've got to give him that quarter, though, as long as I said I would.”

Tim did the topmost length of the pole cautiously. It was a high one, with a slim topmast spliced on with iron bands. He knew how to climb this like a sailor; careful to hold himself close in to the slender stick, and not throw his weight out, so as to put a strain on it that might cause it to snap and let him fall; careful not to get it to swaying.

Then, almost at the very top, he rested again for a moment, sustaining part of his weight by the halyards, as before. When he had got his breath, he drew himself up close to where the big pumpkin hung, on the opposite side; dug his toes in hard, and held on with them and one hand.

He reached his other hand into a trousers' pocket, and drew forth a knife that he had opened before he began the ascent.

Holding fast to the pole, he cut the rope that held the pumpkin. It fell, grazing one of his knees, and would have dislodged him had he not guarded against it. The next moment, it landed with a crash at the base and was shattered into fragments.

Little Tim laboriously loosened the knot Harvey had tied, and let the halyard run free. A moment more, and he was on the ground with Colonel Witham.

The colonel eyed the wreck of the hobgoblin with satisfaction. Then he turned to Tim.

”You're a smart little rascal,” he said, ”and a plucky one. I'll say that for you. There's your fish-pole and your can.”

Colonel Witham paused, and reluctantly put his hand in his trousers pocket. With still greater reluctance, he drew forth a twenty-five cent piece and tendered it to the boy.

”Here,” he said, ”it's a lot of money, but I won't say as you haven't earned it.”

To Colonel Witham's astonishment, however, the boy shook his head.

”I don't want any money,” he said. ”I wouldn't take it for that.”

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