“Please don’t tell,” I begged. I knew by the time Tom got through he would make it sound as if I was going around town knocking on doors and shouting, “My brother is a heathen and infidel!” And I would be lucky if I only lost my allowance for six months and Papa and Mamma didn’t speak to me for a month.
“You must be punished for saying such a terrible thing about? your own brother,” Tom said-
“Then you punish me,” I cried. - “I might consider it,” Tom said, “if I thought it would stop you from ever saying I wasn’t a Christian agaso.”
“It will,” I promised. “Just name the punishment.”
“The punishment must be severe enough to teach you a lesson,” Tom said, “I’ve got it. Give me your basketball and backstop.” ‘
I was the most popular kid in town because I owned the only basketball and backstop. I had received them for Christmas, and Papa had nailed the backstop on the alley side of our woodshed. Kids came from all over town to
take turns playing. I didn’t really know why Tom wanted the basketball and backstop. I could only guess that he couldn’t stand for any kid in town to own something he didn’t, including his own brother.
“You can have them,” I said gratefully. “And thanks for not telling.”
Frankie had a puzzled look on his face. “Why are you thanking Tom for taking your basketball and backstop away from you?” he asked.
“It’s worth it,” I said. “It would break Papa’s and Mamma’s hearts if they knew I’d said my own brother vvasn’t a Christian.”
‘ Tom pointed at Frankie. “You had better give him something for not telling, too,” he said.
. “I’m surrounded by connivers,” I cried, feeling like a tiny mouse cornered by two big tomcats. “All right, Frankie, name your price for not telling.”
Frankie looked at Tom. “What do you think I should ask for?”
“At least a quarter,” Tom said, grinning.
Frankie thought for a moment. “Nope,” he said. “I want his jackknife.”
They had me over a barrel. What could I do? I gave Frankie the jackknife.
“You are nothing but a couple of blackmailers,” I complained bitterly.
Sometime^ a fellow can get so plumb disgusted with himself that, he wishes he’d never been born. The Great Brain had only been home about twenty-four hours and already he had cost me my basketball, my backstop, my jackknife, and ten cents a week allowance. They had muz-ifi
zles for dogs to stop them from barking and biting people. Why in the heck didn’t somebody invent a muzzle for fools like me, who didn’t have sense enough to keep their big mouths shut?
That evening after supper Sweyn went to sit on the front porch of the Vinson home with his girl, Marie. Sweyn had disgraced Tom and me after his first year at the academy by going with a girl. In those days boys under sixteen played with boys and girls played with girls. And any boy under sixteen who went with a girl was considered a sissie. The fellows had really given Tom and me a bad’ time about it. At the rate Sweyn was going, he would be married before he was sixteen and having kids brfore he was old enough to shave.
Tom left to see Parley Benson about something soon after. I started playing checkers with Frankie but he didn’t have his mind on the game. Finally he got up aad walked over and put his hand on Papa’s knee.
“What is a blackmailer, Papa?” he asked.
Papa looked surprised and put aside a magazine he was reading. “Where did you pick up a word like that?” he asked. ,
I thought for sure Frankie was going to spill the beans but he didn’t.
“I heard a boy say it,” he said. “What does it mean?”
“A blackmailer,” Papa said, “is one of the most lowdown crooks there is. He finds out a secret about somebody and threatens to tell other people about it if the person doesn’t pay him to be silent.”
“Thanks, Papa,” Frankie said.
We played checkers until bedtime. When we went up to our bedroom, Frankie took the jackknife from his pocket and handed it to me.
“I’m sorry I took it,” he said. “I didn’t know what a blackmailer was until Papa told me. But Tom must know and that makes him, the most lowdown crook there is.”
“Tom has been blackmailing me since I can remember,” I said. “But it doesn’t bother him a bit. He doesn’t consider it blackmail. He says he is just using his great brain to outsmart people.”
, “Then maybe you’re right,” Frankie said, “and Tom isn’t a Christian after all. When he came home for the Christmas vacation, I liked him a lot. I even liked him more than I did you. But now I don’t think I like him anymore. But I love you, John.”
I’m not a fellow for getting mushy but I couldn’t help hugging’him. But for all Tom’s faults, he was my brother.
‘ “You must not only like Tom,” I said, “but also love him because no matter what he does, he is your foster brother.”
“I’ll try,” Frankie said, “but I wish he was more like you.”
And somehow that made the loss of my basketball and backstop and ten cents a week a little easier to bear.
IS
CHAPTER TWO
The Tin Can Swindle
THE NEXT MORNING Tom went up to his loft in the barn. Papa and Mr. Jamison, the carpenter, had built the loft by nailing boards across the .beam rafters at one end of the barn. They had also built a wall ladder to get up to the loft. It was originally intended for Sweyri, Tom, and me. But The Great Brain, in his usual style, had taken sole possession of it. He had removed the, -wooden wall ladder and made a rope ladder instead. That way he could climb up and pull the rope ladder after him, so no-body else could get up to the loft. He had an accumula-tion of stuff up there, ranging from a beer barrel he used as a table to the skull of an Indian that Uncle Mark had
found in Skeleton Cave. Torn always went up to his loft when he wanted to put his great brain to work on some scheme.
I was pretty sure he was working on how to swindle Jimmie out of his baseball and Danny out of his glove. Tom came down from the loft just as Frankie and I were finishing the morning chores. He had a gunnysack with him as he came out of the barn.
“Follow him, Frankie, and see where he goes,” I said. Frankie followed Tom up the alley. I sat on the railing of our corral fence. Frankie returned in a little while and climbed up beside me.
“Tom is looking in people’s trash barrels and taking out tin cans and putting them in the sack,” Frankie told me.
I figured Tom’s great brain had blown a fuse. I was convinced of it when he returned and started washing the labels off the cans in the corral water trough.
“What in the heck are you going to do with those tin cans?” I asked.
“Yeah, what?” Frankie said.
“I’m going to use them for an experiment in hypnotism,” Tom said. “Are the kids coming over to play basketball today?” ‘
“We played baseball yesterday,” I said. “That means we’ll play basketball today.”
“You can use my basketball and backstop,” Tom said. “Aren’t you going to play?” I asked. “No, J. D..” he said. “I’ll be busy learning how to hypnotize people.”
Tom picked up his seven shining-clean cans and went into the barn. Frankie and I crept to the wall and peeked
20
through a knothole. Tom had the seven cans lined up on a bale of hay. He was kneeling down beside it as if he were praying. Then he picked up a can and waved it back and forth in front of his face. I was now positive that Tom’s great brain had cracked. I ran to the kitchen where Mamma and Aunt Bertha were kneading dough to make
bread.
“Tom has gone crazy!” I shouted. “He’s got seven tin cans lined up on the bale of hay in the barn and is waving them back and forth. He says it’s an experiment
in hypnotism.”
“Nonsense,” Mamma said. “Your brother is just pulling your leg.”
Well, if Mamma didn’t think a fellow who
knelt down as if praying and waved tin cans in front of his face was insane, why should I?
Right after lunch Tom went into the barn again. Howard Kay, Jimmie Peterson, Seth Smith. Basil Kokovinis. Parley Benson, and Danny Forester arrived to play
basketball.
Parley pushed the coonskin cap he always wore ro the
back of his head. “There are only seven, of us,” he said. “We need another player. Where is Tom?”
“In the barn trying to hypnotize some tin cans,” I
said.
“Nobody can hypnotize a tin can,” Parley said.
“That is sure as heck what it looks like to me,” I said.
“I’ve got to see this,” Parley said—
1 followed Parley and the other kids into the barn. Tom was again kneeling before the bale of hay with the seven shining tin cans on it.
tf.
“What are you doing?” Parley asked.
Tom looked up “I’m learning how to hypnotize peo-ple,” he said. “This is the first lesson in the book. Kneel down on the opposite side of the bale of hay and I’ll show you how it is done.”
Parley knelt down.
“We’re going to take turns picking up the tin cans,” Tom said. “I’m going to hypnotize you and make you pick up the last can.”
“You don’t have to hypnotize anybody to do that,” Parley said. “There are seven tin cans. Whoever picks up the first one has to pick up the !ast one, if you take turns one at a time.”
‘ “That would be true,” Tom said, “it you could only pick up one at a time But you can pick up one or two
cans at a time and so can I. And that means I would have
;
to hypnotize you to make you pick up the last can.”
“Sounds like a lot of bunk to me,” Parley said. “And my Pa told me one time that you can’t hypnotize anybody unless they let you.”
“If you think I can’t hypnotize you,” Tom said, “put your money where your mouth is. I’ll bet a nickel I can make you pick up the last can. And I’ll bet every kid here I can hypnotize him and make him pick up the last can.”
“It’s a bet,” Parley said.
Tom picked up a can and began waving it back and forth. “Keep your eyes on the can,” he chanted: “Keep your eyes on the can. Now count backwards from ten to
one.
“Ten,” Parley said as his eyes followed the can, “nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.”
“You are now hypnotized. Parley Benson,” Tom chanted, “and under my power. You will do what I tell you to do until I snap my fingers and bring you out of it. You will pick up the last can. I’ll go first.”
“Oh, no you won’t,” Parley said, and he sure didn’t look hypnotized to me. “I’ll go first.”
“Go ahead,” Tom said. “But you are in my power and I command you to pick up two cans.”
Parley was grinning as he picked up just one can. Tom then removed one can, leaving five.
. “I command you to pick up two cans,” Tom chanted.
Parley picked up just one, leaving four. Tom picked up one can leaving three-
“Pick up just one can,” Tom ordered.
Parley picked up two cans, leaving Tom stuck with the last can. Tom had a long face as he gave Parley a nickel.
“It does say in the book that some people can’t be hypnotized,” he said. “Seth, you try it.”
“I’m betting a nickel too,” Seth said as he knelt down. Tom went through the same ritual with Seth that he had with Parley. Seth went first and removed two cans from the bale of hay, leaving five. Tom took two, leaving three. Seth took’two cans, leaving Tom stuck with the last
can.
“It’s just my luck,” Tom said, “that I picked two peo-ple who can’t be hypnotized.” He gave Seth a nickel and then looked up at Basil. “You’re next.”
“I’m betting a nickel too,” Basil said as he knelt down.
Tom went through the ritual. Basil took one can. Tom took one. Basil took one, leaving four. Tom took one.
“You are under my power, Basil Kokovinis,” Tom chanted. “Take just one can.”
Parley touched Basil on the shoulder. “Don’t do it,” he said. “If you take one, then he’ll take one and you’ll be stuck with the last can.”
Basil removed two cans, leaving Tom stuck with the last can. Tom gave him a nickel.
I was beginning to feel sorry for Tom. I knew forking over those nickels was breaking his money-loving heart. And I was sure whoever sold him that book on hypnotism had swindled him,
“Maybe you, Parley, and Seth are all fellows who can’t be hypnotized.” Tom said. “Howard, you’re next.”
“Phooey on your hypnotism,” Howard said, as he knelt down. “And I’m betting a dime you can’t hypnotize me.”
“But the other fellows only bet a nickel,” Tom protested.
“You just said you’d bet us all,” Howard said. “You didn’t say how much. I’m betting a dime.” -*
Again Tom went through the ritual. And again he ended up with the last can and had to pay Howard a dime. Then he stood up.
“No more bets,” Tom said. “I’ve already lost twenty-five cents and that is enough. I have to study the book on hypnotism some more. I must be doing something wrong.”
“You can’t quit now,” Danny said. “You promised to bet all of us and there is still me and Jimmie and John
and Frankie.”
“I don’t believe my own brother and foster brother would want to take advantage of me,” Tom said. “But I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you and jimmie. If you let me go first, I’ll bet. Maybe that is what I’m doing wrong.”
“No you don’t,” Danny said. “You let the other kids go first and that means Jimmie and I go first.”
“All right,” Tom said, looking mighty angry. “But if you and Jimmie want to bet, you have to bet a dollar. Howard made me bet him a dime instead of a nickel. So I’m going to make you and Jimmie bet a dollar.”
“You know darn well that Jimmie and I ain’t got a dollar,” Danny protested. “That’s just your way of trying to weasel out of betting us.”
“Then bet something that is worth a dollar,” Tom said, “or forget the whole thing,”
“This is one time we’ve all got you where we want you,” Danny said, his left eyelid flipping open. “And it is going to cost you plenty to make up for all the times you swindled me. I’ll bet anything I own that you can’t hypnotize me and make me take the last can.”
Tom thought about it for a moment. “Tell you what I’ll do,” he said. “That infielder’s glove of yours cost about two dollars and a quarter from Sears Roebuck. How about betting your glove against what it cost?”
I guess that after seeing Tom couldn’t hypnotize four other kids, Danny was pretty sure he couldn’t be hypnotized.
“You said that thinking I wouldn’t bet my glove,” he said. “Well, you’re wrong. It’s a bet.”
“That leaves Jimmie,” Tom said. “I won’t bet you unless Junmie bets too. That baseball of his cost a dollar and ten cents. He is going to have to bet his baseball against my dollar and ten cents or I won’t bet you, Danny.”
“Boy, oh, boy,” Danny said, “you are sure trying hard
to get out of betting. But Jimmie will take the bet, won’t you, Jimmie?”
Jimmie shook his head. “Gosh,” he said, “I don’t know if I should.”
“Good,” Tom said, smiling. “Then all bets are off.”
Danny patted Jimmie on the shoulder. “Can’t you see that Tom doesn’t want to bet because he knows he is going to lose?” he asked. “The Great Brain knows darn well he can’t hypnotize anybody. And the fellow who goes first has to win.”
“All right,” Jimmie said. “I’ll bet.”
Tom looked very disappointed. “Are you sure you want to bet, Jimmie?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” Jimmie answered.
Tom looked like a fellow wh
o just lost the ball game as he knelt down with Danny next to the bale of hay. He went through the same ritual, waving the can an4 making Danny count backwards from ten.
“You are now hypnotized, Danny Forester,” Tom chanted. “You are under my power. I order you to make sure you take the last can.”
Danny removed two cans. Tom took one, leaving four. Danny stared at the four cans and finally took one. Then Tom took two. leaving Danny stuck with the last can. Tom snapped his fingers.
“I did it!” he shouted. “I hypnotized you and made you take the last can.”
Danny’s left eyelid was wide open as he stared at Tom. “I don’t feel hypnotized,” he said.
“I brought you out of your hypnosis when I snapped my fingers,” Tom said. “Come on, Jimmie, you’re next.”
“I changed my mind,” Jimmie said.
“You can’t change your mind,” Tom said, “unless you want to be known as a welcher. And I don’t know any
27
kid in town who will have anything to do with a welcher.”
I guess Jimmie didn’t want to be known as a welcher. He knelt down by the bale of hay. Tom went through the ritual.
“You are now hypnotized, Jimmie Peterson,” Tom chanted, “and under my power. I order you to make sure you take the last can.”
Jimmie’s hand was shaking as he removed one can. Tom took two, leaving four. Jimmie’s hand was shaking even more as he took two cans. Tom then removed one can, leaving Jimmie stuck with the last can. Then he snapped his fingers-
“It just goes to prove,” Tom said, “that some people can be hypnotized and some can’t, just like it says in the book. Bring the baseball over any time tomorrow, Jimmie. And the same thing goes for the infielder’s glove, Danny.”
I sure couldn’t help feeling sorry for Jimmie because he alid Howard Kay were my two best friends. He looked as if he was^oing to cry.
“Let’s play basketball,” I said.
John Fitzgerald GB 05 Great Bra Page 2
