Stoner's Boy

by Robert F. Schulkers

  “Come on,” I says, “he left that dog somewhere around here.”

  We run down to the river. Bill started for the snow fort, and I followed. When we got there, I turned my flashlight into the fort. There was a fine dog; he looked like a greyhound. Oh boy, he was a fine dog.

  “What the dickens did he leave him here for?” asked Bill.

  I says, “I don’t know; let’s git him loose and take him up to the houseboat.”

  So I untied the rope by which the dog was tied to one of the boards, and we took him up to the houseboat. He was such a friendly dog, and we petted him, and he jumped all over us as we stayed with him awhile. I hated to part with him, but we had to git back home; it was growing late.

  THURSDAY.—I told all the fellas about the dog this morning, and after school we hurried down to the houseboat with something to eat for the dog. Gee, the poor old hound jumped all over us, and he was hungry; he ate up all we brought, and I sent Roy Dobel up to his house to git some more to eat. All the boys are glad to have a dog, and we said we could make him the mascot of our club.

  We went down to our snow fort today and put a fine roof on it; gee it looks like a candy palace now. The Pelhams didn’t show themselves at all. But when we was going home I seen Little Tim coming over. “Hi, Hawkins,” he says in a low voice, “I got something to tell you.”

  So I took him round back of the houseboat, and I says, “Now, tell me what it is.”

  He says, “The Pelhams are making plans to break your snow fort down tonight; you did me a good turn, once. I just want to warn you.”

  I says, “Thanks, Tim, us boys think a whole lot of you for telling us this, but I thought you wanted to git your dog back.”

  Little Tim looked puzzled. “What dog?” he asked.

  I says, “The one you tied in our snow fort last night.”

  Tim laughed. “You’re wrong, Hawkins,” he says. “I ain’t got no dog, never had one, and I wasn’t out last night.”

  I didn’t ask Tim nothing more. “All right,” I says, “thanks for the tip about the Pelhams; don’t let on like you told us.”

  So Tim skated back over the river; it’s frozen solid now. I got the fellas up in the houseboat. Then I told ’em what Tim said.

  “Everybody be down here tonight,” I says, “but no matter who gits here first, don’t light any lamps; let everything be dark.”

  THURSDAY NIGHT.—We snuck down to the houseboat right after supper. We had a fire in the stove, but we didn’t light the lamps. We just sit around and talked in a low voice, and we would peep out the windows every few minutes. Purty soon we seen some lights moving on the Pelham bank. In about fifteen minutes we seen the Pelham fellas come over in a bunch; they just trotted across the ice. They stopped when they reached our snow fort.

  “Now,” says Jerry Moore, “they are gonna have a powwow before they start to bust it down.”

  But Bill Darby, who was standing by my side looking out the window, got excited and pinched my arm. “Look up the river, Hawkins,” he whispered.

  I looked. There was the gray figger of the skating boy we saw the other night coming down the ice as fast as his skates would take him, and this time he had two dogs, but they was just running loose in back of him. The Pelhams didn’t see him coming, and he reached the snow fort in a jiffy.

  We heard a shout from the Pelham bunch, and the next minit they all turned around and seen the fella and his two dogs. They all jumped on the skater, and all we could see was the Pelhams all mixed up in a pile on the ice.

  “Come on,” hollered Jerry, “it’s time for us to take a hand in this.”

  We all followed Jerry out of the houseboat and beat it down to the snow fort. We was supprised to see all the Pelhams running over to their side, and the two dogs chasing and barking and snapping at their legs.

  The gray figger of the skater was sitting on top of a Pelham fella who had fallen on the ice, and he was punching the daylights out of him. I seen the fella on the ice was Briggen.

  “You won’t tell me where you put him,” hollered the gray figger as we come up, “all right, you will have to take what you git.”

  Briggen hollered, “I ain’t seen ’im! Let me up, let me up.”

  Just then we run over to help Briggen out, but the gray coat seen us; we didn’t git a chanst to see his face, he turned so quick, but I know he had a gray muffler over his chin and nose. All I seen was two eyes that looked like sparks of light; he jumped up as soon as he seen us and give Briggen an extra kick with his skate, and off he was up the river, whistling for his dogs as he went. The dogs followed him. I helped Briggen up.

  “What’s the fuss about?” asked Jerry Moore.

  Briggen rubbed his sore face and says, “I don’t know who he is; he must-a come from Watertown. He says he left a dog in this snow house and says we took it and beat me up ’cause I couldn’t tell him where it was, but cross my heart I ain’t never seen it.”

  I says, “Go back over to your side, Briggen; us fellas will settle this, and don’t come over here any more to try to bust our snow fort.”

  Briggen ran over to Pelham as fast as he could. We all walked back to our houseboat. Jerry was laughing. “Golly,” he says, “that strange fella saved our snow fort.”

  “Yeah,” I says, “but he come after that dog we got. I guess we will git in trouble next.”

  Our capt. says, “Sure, we have to bring that dog back to the snow fort and tie him there, and leave him till he is called for.”

  I says, “Tomorrow will be plenty of time to do that.” I could see right away our fellas was all afraid of the gray fella.

  FRIDAY.—Doc Waters and Judge Granbery come down to our houseboat this afternoon while we was holding our regular meeting.

  I says, “What have we done now?”

  Doc smiled. “Nothing,” he says. “Leastways I hope you haven’t, but the Judge thinks you have, so I had to come and tell you that an officer from Watertown said he got word that Louisiana Lou was down here, and he thought maybe you boys knew about it.”

  I says, “What is Louisiana Lou, a steamboat or something?”

  Doc laughed, and the Judge smiled like it hurt him to stretch his mouth any.

  “No,” says Doc, “it ain’t no steamboat; it’s a prizewinning five-thousand-dollar hound, what was stolen by Stoner’s Boy in Watertown, and the officer says that Stoner’s Boy brought it down here and hid it in a shed till he got a chanst to sell it, but it got away.”

  Just then our new dog got up and come out of the corner. “I guess that’s it,” I says to Doc. “It’s sure enough a fine dog.”

  The Judge jumped up and looked at Doc. “I told you, Doctor Waters,” he says. “I told you these boys were guilty; they are the worst lot of boys in any town around here.”

  “Hold on, Judge,” says Jerry Moore, “if this IS Louisiana Lou, us boys ain’t Stoner’s Boy, and we didn’t steal this dog; we just took pity on it, that’s all, and we are ready to turn him over to the owner right, now.”

  Judge Granbery shifted uneasy like. “Yes, yes,” he says, “I guess you are right. Doctor, you had better take charge of the dog till the Watertown officer calls again.”

  Then, turning to us, he said, “I want to give you young fellas a warning. I don’t want any rowdy business down here on this riverbank. Our town must not get a black eye because of its boys. If ever you get into trouble and bring discredit to our town, I’ll have this houseboat torn down and forbid you to gather again on this riverbank. That is all!”

  The Judge stamped his feet as he went out. Doc turned and says, “Don’t mind what he says; he gits a little grouch on once in a while.”

  Jerry slipped the rope through Louisiana Lou’s collar and handed one end of the rope to Doc. That was the last we seen of Louisiana Lou.

  “Gee wiz,” hollers Bill Darby after Doc went out. “Golly Moses, we had five thousand dollars worth of dog in this houseboat and didn’t know it.”

  But none of us felt like
laughing. Lew sit down by the organ and played, “What’s the Use of Dreaming.” We all joined in.

  SATURDAY.—This morning we all came down early and found our snow fort busted up. There was a piece of board sticking out of the top of the pile of snow, and a piece of paper was tacked on it, and this was printed on the paper:

  YOU WILL BE SORRY YOU

  EVER MEDDLED IN

  MY BUSINESS.

  “THERE WAS A PIECE OF BOARD STICKING OUT OF THE PILE OF SNOW, AND A PIECE OF PAPER WAS TACKED ON IT.”

  It wasn’t signed; we didn’t know who wrote it. The first thing I thought of was that the Pelhams played us a trick. I told the fellas what I thought.

  “Sure,” says Jerry, “let’s go and get Briggen.”

  But we didn’t have to go. Briggen was coming over the ice with Ham Gardner and Dave Burns.

  “Listen,” says Jerry, as they come up. “You fellas finally busted our snow fort, didn’t you? And then you left this note to make us believe someone else did it.

  Briggen shook his head and looked scared. “No,” he says, “we didn’t write that note; we got one, too.” He held out a piece of paper. It had the same words on it as our note. It was in the same handwriting.

  I says, “Briggen is telling the truth.”

  Jerry says, “For once in his life, yes.”

  I says, “Go back, Briggen, and don’t act like anything happened. Us fellas will take care of this thing; you won’t get in no trouble.”

  The Pelhams hurried back to their side.

  Us fellas went back to the houseboat, and there was Doc Waters.

  “Hello, Hawkins,” he says. “I just come to bring you fellas something nice.”

  He held out an envelope.

  I says, “What’s this for?”

  He says, “The fellas what own Louisiana Lou sent you a reward for finding that valuable hound.”

  I opened the envelope; there was a ten-dollar bill. But none of us fellas said a word. I handed Doc the two notes what was left for us and the Pelhams.

  Doc read them over. He coughed. “He is a bad boy,” says Doc.

  “Who?” I says.

  Doc put his specs back in his pocket. “Listen,” he says, “Stoner’s Boy has been doing lots of bad things up in Watertown, and nobody has ever been able to find him after he does anything, but he is a bad boy; you fellas better be careful. He is older then you, and if they ever git him the officers are gonna put him in the school for bad boys.”

  None of us fellas said a word.

  Doc says, “I am sorry the Judge made you feel bad. I hope you won’t be hard on the old man.”

  None of us said a word. We just stood there and looked at one another. Doc walked up the bank.

  I say, “Well, supposing that Stoner’s Boy comes back here.”

  Jerry Moore says, “He is a bad boy. Doc says so.”

  “Yeah,” I says, “he may be a better fighter than you are, Jerry.”

  “That’s right,” says Jerry, “we better go over and tell them Pelhams what Doc told us; that Stoner fella might pay ’em a visit some night. They better stay indoors.”

  Jerry and the fellas started to go across to Pelham.

  “Oh, Capt.,” I says, “what about this ten-dollar bill?”

  Johnny looked back. He said, “We will put it in our tin box.”

  Which we did.

  CHAPTER 2

  Stoner’s Boy Visits Pelham

  MONDAY.—Us boys didn’t try to build another snow fort. It’s warmer today, and the ice is beginning to break up in the river. We all came down to our houseboat headquarters this afternoon and had our regular meeting.

  Everybody was there but Dick Ferris. Jerry Moore got up and said, “If that fella Ferris don’t stop going over to the Pelham fellas every day, we can’t let him belong to our bunch.”

  Lew Hunter got up and said, “Dick Ferris is all right; he won’t tell anything to the Pelhams that will hurt us. You can trust Dick.”

  Jerry got kinda sore. “Sure,” he says, “sure stick up for Dick. Seems like you would rather stick up for a fella what fools around with the Pelhams than you would for one of us.”

  Lew shook his head. “No, Jerry,” he says, “but Dick is our best tenner singer; our choir will be busted up if he leaves us.”

  Jerry says, “Why, how can you say our choir will be busted up if only one fella leaves; he don’t do all the singing himself, does he?”

  Our capt. hit on the table with his hammer. “Keep quiet everybody,” he says. “Step up here and pay your dues.”

  All the fellas stepped up and give me their dime, and I marked it down in the book.

  Our capt. says, “How many fellas ain’t paid up yet, Seckatary?”

  I says, “Only one.”

  “Who is that?” asked our capt.

  “Dick Ferris,” I says.

  Jerry jumped up. “Say,” he hollers, “I ain’t gonna keep on payin’ my dime a week when a fella like Dick Ferris doesn’t put up a cent and bums with the Pelham fellas.”

  Jerry puts on his cap and goes out and slams the door.

  I says to our capt., “Listen, this is going too far; we all the time have to fuss and fight over what Dick Ferris is doing.”

  Lew Hunter says, “Hawkins, don’t blame Dick for something what don’t mean nothing; he ain’t doing no harm to anybody.”

  Our capt. says, “That might be so, but he has to pay his dues same as any other fella.”

  Lew says, “Oh well, go ahead, don’t mind me.” Lew put on his hat. He turned around when he reached the door. “What you gonna do,” he says, “what you gonna do if Dick can’t pay his dime a week?”

  “Oh he can pay that little bit,” says our capt.

  “Yeah, but if he can’t pay it,” says Lew, “what you gonna do then?”

  Our capt. studied a minit. Then he said, “We will fire him outta our houseboat club.”

  Lew started to go. “I guess you might as well fire me too, if Dick goes,” he said. Then Lew walked out.

  TUESDAY.—Today I met Dick Ferris on our way home from school. “Dick,” I says, “the fellas been saying something about you not paying your dime a week.”

  Dick looked worried. “I’ll pay it soon, Hawkins,” he says. “Give me a little time.”

  I says, “All right, Dick, but the longer you wait the bigger the bill gits. You better pay as you go; then you won’t owe.”

  Dick didn’t answer; he run down to the riverbank. I says to myself, “I guess he is going over to Pelham.” I went down to the houseboat. The fellas were all there, holding a meeting. I was glad to see Lew Hunter in his chair—I was afraid he wouldn’t come back. Lew Hunter looked purty sore, and Jerry Moore was doing the talking. He stopped when he seen me come in.

  Our capt. says, “Hawkins, we have all made up our mind to fire Dick Ferris from our bunch, unless he pays up all his dues by Saturday.”

  Lew Hunter jumped up. “No,” he hollers, “you’re wrong, capt. I didn’t make up my mind that way.”

  “But,” says our capt., “you are the only one what didn’t say yes, but the rest of us says so, and it has to be done.”

  I says, “Fellas, I’m sorry.”

  Jerry Moore says, “Aw shucks, Hawkins, you give me a pain. What’s to be sorry about?”

  I says, “It ain’t just right, is it, to treat a fella shabby ’cause he ain’t got no money.” I waited for somebody to answer me, but nobody had a word to say.

  “All right,” I says, “I am a good scout, and I will stick to the rules of the houseboat. If you made up to fire poor old Dick, why I ain’t gonna stop it, but I got one thing to say. I wouldn’t fire Dick Ferris for not paying his dues. Give him time; you know he ain’t a bad fella. You can trust him. Dern if I wouldn’t give him my coat if he asked me for it.”

  Jerry got up. “Listen, Hawkins,” he says, “you can give him your shirt for all I care, but I am a fella what likes to live up to rules, and if there’s any wrong in that, I am lo
oking for the fella to tell me about it.”

  I didn’t answer Jerry. There wasn’t any use to fuss about it. The fellas all got up and went out. All but me and Lew and our capt. Lew went over and started playing the organ.

  “Hawkins,” says our capt., “what we gonna do about it?”

  “Do about it,” I says, “why it looks like you already went and done it. What’s there to do now? You made up your mind to fire Dick; we gotta stick to rules. You heard what Jerry said.”

  Our capt. didn’t answer me. I walked over to the organ and stood beside Lew and listened. Johnny looked like he was sorry he was capt. of our bunch. I saw right away he was up against it; he didn’t want to hurt Jerry’s feelings, and he didn’t want me and Lew to be sore at him. But purty soon he put on his cap and went out.

  Lew turned around to me. “Hawkins,” he says, “how can we git Dick out of this?”

  “Pay his dues,” I says. “That’s the only way.”

  Lew shook his head. “I can’t,” he says. “I ain’t got no money; I got all I can do to pay my own dime a week.”

  “Same here,” I says, “we gotta live up to rules, Lew.”

  WEDNESDAY.—Little Tim from Pelham come over on our side today. Jerry Moore was standing down on the bank when the little kid started to come over, and he run out on the ice to meet him. The ice is breaking in places, and there is a crack down the middle of the river about a foot wide. Jerry jumped over this crack and grabbed Little Tim and jumped back with him.

  “You crazy little scamp,” he hollers, “don’t you know better than to come out on this dangerous ice?”

  Little Tim laughed. “Gee,” he hollers, “you’re strong, Jerry. I ain’t afraid when you come and git me.”

  Jerry grunted. “I ain’t coming to git you no more,” says Jerry. “You gotta stay over on the Pelham side after this.”

  Little Tim says, “Why?”

  Jerry says, “Because, that’s your home over there. Pelham fellas ain’t got no business on this side.”

  Tim says, “Well, why don’t you make your fellas stay on your side? Dick Ferris comes over on our side every day.”