Stoner's Boy

by Robert F. Schulkers

  Briggen sneered. “I know you don’t,” he says, “and what I got to tell you ain’t gonna please you much neither.”

  Dick Ferris says, “Come on, Briggen, don’t keep us here waiting; tell us what you got to say.”

  Briggen smiled. “Listen,” he says, “you fellas know that Dobel’s sheep’s been stolen.”

  “Yes,” I says, “whatta you know about it?”

  “Well,” says Briggen, “we seen a strange houseboat around here every night this week, and every time the houseboat come past here a couple of sheep been stolen.”

  “Yes,” says Dick Ferris, “we know there’s been six sheep stolen.”

  “Six?” hollers Briggen, “why there’s been ten stolen and two more last night.”

  “All right, Briggen,” I says, “we didn’t know there was so many, but tell us where they are.”

  Briggen shoved his hands in his pocket and stood grinning at us. “You think you’re smart,” he says. “You think you are gonna make me tell who took them; well, us Pelham fellas didn’t take ’em, and Stoner’s Boy didn’t take ’em, and nobody you think of took ’em. You’d be sorry to hear who took ’em, wouldn’t you?”

  I looked supprised. I walked over to Briggen. “Listen, you snide,” I says, “tell us fellas the truth or don’t say another word.”

  Ham Gardner come up and stood in front of Briggen. “Go easy, Hawkins,” says Ham, “I’ll tell you whose houseboat it was. You’d know it too if you saw it up close. It belonged to the Skinny Guy’s pop, and we seen the Skinny Guy on it—the same old Skinny who belonged to your club.”

  Me and Dick fell back like somebody hit us in the face. Briggen and Ham backed out of the houseboat and shut the door behind them. For a minit I stood stock-still. Then I hollers, “Come back, Briggen; come back, Ham.”

  But him and Briggen was gone. Me and Dick stood looking at one another. “The Skinny Guy?” I says to Dick, “the Skinny Guy and his pop!”

  But Dick shook his head. “There is some mistake,” he says. “The Skinny Guy wouldn’t do a thing like sheep stealing; there must be something wrong.”

  I says, “There, is, Dick, and it’s up to us to find out; we better keep this quiet from the other fellas.”

  Which we did.

  CHAPTER 6

  Return of the Skinny Guy

  SUNDAY NIGHT.—Us boys don’t come down to our houseboat very often on Sundays, but our capt. ordered us all to come down because we had to figger out what we was gonna do to help Roy Dobel. Roy ain’t allowed to come down to our houseboat anymore. Twelve of his pop’s sheep is gone, and Mister Dobel is so mad that he says it’s Roy’s fault because Roy is always up at our houseboat and don’t look after the sheep the way he should.

  Dick got up and hit the table with his hammer. “Listen, boys,” he says, “it ain’t right for us to let Roy stay in trouble. Everybody is here but him, and he ain’t allowed to come.”

  Jerry Moore says, “Dick, you talk like it’s our fault because his pop’s sheep are gone.”

  “No,” says Dick, “it ain’t our fault that they are gone, but if they ain’t found it will be our fault.”

  Johnny McLaren got up and says, “I make a motion that we all take our turn and watch this houseboat.”

  Bill Darby says, “That’s a good idea.” Then he seconded the motion, and it went over big with all the boys.

  “Passed!” says Dick.

  So we made up our mind that we would all take turns about watching. I made out the list. Every fella had to watch a couple hours each day, and he must stay till the next fella comes to take his place.

  MONDAY.—Hal Rice was on watch today. He went right down to the houseboat from school. He had a big fire built when I come down. I says, “Did you see anything?”

  “No,” says Hal, “there ain’t nothing gonna happen while I am around.”

  I didn’t say nothing to Hal, but I kinda thought he was about right, ’cause if anything did happen he wouldn’t be there. He has a purty swift pair of feet. They get him anywhere purty quick when anything happens.

  Doc Waters come down to our campfire and says, “Hello, boys, I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

  I says, “It don’t make no difference, Doc, we couldn’t forget you in a million years.”

  Doc laughed. He says to me, “Hawkins, come up to the houseboat a minit; I got something to say to you.”

  We walked up to the houseboat together. Doc says, “Hawkins, I am awful sorry you boys got mixed up with that Stoner’s Boy from Watertown.”

  I says, “Listen, Doc, you ain’t half as sorry as we are.”

  “Well,” says Doc, “I wish you wouldn’t have anything to do with him. I am afraid some of you boys are gonna get hurt.”

  I says, “Not if we see him first.”

  Doc says, “That’s just it. You won’t get a chanst to see him first.”

  I says, “Aw, shucks. If anything is gonna happen, it will happen, Doc.”

  Doc looked all around. Then he says, “Hawkins, every farmer in the neighborhood is losing sheep. Dobel’s ain’t the only ones that are stolen.”

  I whistled. “Golly Moses, Doc, you don’t mean that?”

  “Yes, I do,” says Doc, “and the sheriff is getting three men today, and they are going to find out where the sheep are going.”

  I says, “We might be able to help him find out.”

  Doc shook his head. “That’s just what I don’t want you to do,” says Doc, “and you must keep away from the river. Anyway, don’t go near it at night.”

  I says, “Doc, you don’t think we ain’t able to take care of ourselves, do you?”

  “No,” says Doc, “but there might be some shooting, and you know when that starts it would worry your mother if she knew you were down here. Now, I want you to promise me you won’t take any chances.”

  Doc held out his hand to me. I shook it. But I says, “Doc, we can’t promise anything, but I am glad you told me. I will make the fellas be very careful.”

  “All right, Hawkins,” says Doc. He got up and went to the door. “You don’t happen to know anything about the lost sheep, do you Hawkins?” he asked.

  I looked him in the eye. I was wondering if Briggen told Doc about the Skinny Guy’s houseboat being around here. But Doc didn’t seem to be thinking about that. “No,” I says, “no, Doc; if it ain’t Stoner’s Boy, us boys don’t know who it could be.”

  TUESDAY.—I told Dick Ferris what Doc Waters said. Dick gave orders today that all of us boys must not stay down around the houseboat after our meeting was over. So after we had our meeting the boys went away two by two, and Dick says each fella was to stick to his partner and never be caught out alone.

  Dick and me and Bill Darby and Johnny McLaren stayed down by the houseboat after the others went away. Johnny says, “It’s my turn to watch this afternoon, so Bill can go with our capt. and Hawkins.”

  I says, “All right, we will stay around here close somewhere, Johnny, and if you see anything that looks funny, hoot like an owl.”

  Dick says, “Johnny ought to have a gun, Hawkins.”

  I says, “Maybe it would be better if he didn’t have one.”

  Bill Darby says, “Give him yours, Hawkins; he won’t shoot it lest he has to.”

  So I went up in the houseboat and got the fine gun Larry King gave to me.

  Johnny says, “I won’t need that thing; it’s enough to kill an army with, and I ain’t gonna shoot nobody.”

  I says, “No, but a gun is a purty good thing to keep fellas away from you with, even if you don’t have any bullets.”

  “All right,” says Johnny. “If you fellas hear an owl hoot, you hurry down here as fast as you can. I ain’t no match for that Stoner’s Boy.”

  So we went up the river path and hung around the main road; but even though we listened real hard, there came no hooting.

  We went home when it got dark.

  After supper I put on my cap and my sweater, and my pop say
s, “Where are you going, son?”

  I says, “Pop, I just have to run down to our clubhouse for a minute to see how Johnny is gettin’ along. He is on watch tonight.”

  My dad walked over and peeped in the kitchen where Mom was putting the dishes away. He closed the door softly.

  “Now, buddy,” he says, “I heard about the sheep stealing.”

  “Yes,” I says, “us boys are trying to find out where the sheep went.”

  Dad shook his head. “You don’t have to do that,” he says. “The sheriff can take care of that. You boys are always sticking your head in danger.”

  I told Dad how Roy Dobel’s pop made him stay away from the houseboat because the sheep were stolen.

  “Yes,” says Dad, “and I’ve a good notion to make you stay away too. I was talking to Doc Waters today; he told me all about it.”

  I says, “All right, Dad, whatever you say goes, but us fellas would like to help Roy, that’s all.”

  Dad motioned to the door of the room where Mom was. “Remember your mother, son,” he says. “You don’t want to get into danger that will worry her. She’s too good.” He walked over to the table and lit his pipe, and sat down and begun to read the paper.

  “Dad,” I says, “I’m waiting.”

  He looked up. “What for?” he asked. “You know I’m not going to keep you in. You’re big enough now to take care of yourself.”

  I says, “You won’t care if I go, will you, Pop?”

  He shook his head. “No,” he says. “I wouldn’t keep you in if you thought it was your duty to your friends.”

  “Thanks,” I says.

  I started to go out the door. Then I happened to think of what Doc said, “. . . there might be shooting.” I run back in the other room and kissed Mom.

  She says, “Son, don’t be gone long.”

  I says, “I won’t, Mom—I got to see Johnny a minit.” Then I run out. The further away from the house I got the worse I begun to feel. What if I never came back? What if I never seen Mom again?

  Oh, Lord! I just had to go down to see Johnny tonight, but dern if Dad don’t make me feel funny when he talks to me like that. But I know he only meant it for advice.

  I was glad when the old houseboat come in sight. I seen a figger walking slow past it, with a gun over his shoulder. “Johnny,” I called softly.

  “Hawkins?” answers Johnny.

  I went down. “See anything?” I asked.

  “Yes,” says Johnny. “I saw a fella you would be glad to meet.”

  “Who?” I asks.

  “The Skinny Guy,” answers Johnny.

  “Link Lambert?” I asks.

  Johnny nodded. “Yes,” he says. “I know him as well as you, Hawkins. It was him; if you look over acrost the river you will see a light on the Pelham bank. That’s the houseboat of the Skinny Guy’s pop.”

  I looked where Johnny pointed. I saw the light. I says, “What’s he doing here?”

  Johnny shook his head. “Don’t ask me,” he says. “Hawkins, I believe Skinny knows something about the stolen sheep.”

  I jumped back in supprise. “Don’t say that, Johnny,” I says. “Link wouldn’t do it.”

  “No,” says Johnny, “but suppose the fella we call Stoner’s Boy is really the Skinny Guy?”

  I says, “I wouldn’t believe it.”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t,” says Johnny, “but Stoner’s Boy always has half of his face covered. Nobody ever saw him face to face. Why couldn’t it be the Skinny Guy?”

  I didn’t answer Johnny. I says, “Johnny, I am going home. I got a feeling like us boys ain’t safe out here at nighttime.”

  “Wait a minit,” says Johnny, “and I will walk back with you. No use me watching here all night.”

  We went in the clubhouse and locked the gun away. Then we hustled home.

  WEDNESDAY.—Jerry Moore was on watch today, and us boys all kept away from the houseboat. We didn’t want to be seen by that Stoner’s Boy if he came.

  But we stayed close by so we could hear Jerry hoot like an owl if he needed us. But nothing happened. There wasn’t a boat on the river. The houseboat that came last night was gone today. It happens like that all the time. None of us fellas know what to think of it.

  THURSDAY.—Today after school we held our regular meeting. Tom Wingfield was on watch. We was just about finished with our meeting when Tom come running up into the houseboat. “I saw the Skinny Guy!” he hollers, out of breath.

  “Where?” I ask, quickly. “Show us where you saw him.”

  We all run after Tom, and he led us down to the river. “There,” says Tom, pointing. “See him, going up to the cliffs.”

  “Come on,” I says, “let’s follow him.”

  Starting up the cliff was the figger of the Skinny Guy, Link Lambert. He didn’t have any hat on, and he carried a sack on his shoulder, and he scrambled up the rocks like a deer.

  “Come on, Dick,” says Jerry Moore. “Don’t stand here like a boob. You are capt. of this bunch.”

  We hurried on. We kept right in back of the Skinny Guy.

  Jerry says, “He is going for the cave.”

  “Yeah,” I says, “we will find him there. No use to hurry.”

  But Jerry kept on like he didn’t hear me. Purty soon we saw the Skinny Guy disappear in the side of the cliff. Jerry stopped short, and we all pulled up beside him. “Now,” says Jerry, “what is he doing in that cave?”

  Dick looked at me. “Hawkins and me will go and see,” says Dick.

  Dick went forward slowly, and I followed, while Jerry kept the others back there on the rocks. We reached the mouth of the cave. Bla-a-a-a, Bla-a-a-a! came the sound from the cave.

  Dick turned and looked at me. “Sheep,” he says. “Hear ’em bleating?”

  “Yeah,” I says, “it’s sheep for sure.”

  “Looks like it’s true about the Skinny Guy, Hawkins,” says Dick.

  I didn’t answer. I felt so blue. Oh, boy, how I wished it wasn’t true. Poor old Link. Best friend I ever had. I couldn’t believe he was a sheep thief.

  “No,” I says to Dick, “there must be something wrong, Dick. Link ain’t that kind of a fella.”

  Dick didn’t say nothing.

  “We will go back, Hawkins,” he says to me. “We will go back and tell the fellas we lost track of him; dern if I am gonna give away my best friend.”

  I grabbed Dick by the hand. “You’re true blue, Dick,” I says.

  He snatched his hand away. “Link was your friend, too, Hawkins,” he said, “and we must not say a word.”

  “You’re on,” I says.

  We went back and told Jerry and the fellas that we couldn’t follow Link further than the cave entrance. Jerry looked at us out of one eye and says, “Why don’t that skinny kid come and meet us fellas again? He used to be our friend before he went to Padooka.”

  I says, “Jerry, don’t be too hasty. Give the kid a chanst.”

  Jerry said no more. We all went back. That night I heard sheep bleating while I slept, and my dreams were about caves and fear.

  FRIDAY.—Lew Hunter was playing the organ in the houseboat when I come down today after school. He says, “Hawkins, I got to be watchman tonight.”

  I says, “Well, we all have to take our turn.”

  “I know,” says Lew, “but I don’t like this sort of thing.”

  “Oh,” I says, “if you knew the Skinny Guy like I did, Lew, you would feel worse than you do.”

  “What you mean?” he asks.

  I says, “Listen, Lew, I knew the Skinny Guy before you ever come to our town. You never met him, but if you ever had you would of been glad to do him a favor.”

  Lew looked at me kinda funny. “What the dickens are you talking about, Hawkins?” he says.

  I says, “Lew, take the gun and go out and begin your watching; don’t mind me. I got work to do.”

  Lew looked at me a minit; then he shook his head and took the gun and went out. I sat down by the t
able and begun to work on my seckatary book. I heard some of our fellas playing and shouting outside. I heard the echoes from the Pelham side. But every sound I heard seemed like the voice of Link Lambert, my old Skinny Guy friend, saying, “Don’t believe it, Hawkins; don’t believe it.”

  SATURDAY.—And I still don’t believe it. Yet things don’t look square, either. I come down to the houseboat early today, and before I got to the steps Dick Ferris run out to meet me. “Hawkins,” he says, “go right down and see what Bill Darby is up to. He went down that way through the hollow.”

  I says, “Why, what makes you think he is up to something?”

  Dick says, “Don’t ask me no questions. Do what I tell you. Find out why he went down there all by himself.”

  So I says, “All right.”

  I struck out through the woods and walked down the hollow. Every step I took I had to think of the three Wild West fellows, dear old Rufus Rogers and his two pals, Lafe and Homer, who hung around here when they built the old shack in the hollow I was heading for, after they had run away from college.

  And there was our old shack. Goodness, but it needs a coat of paint. When I come near it I hear Bill Darby’s voice inside talking to somebody. I walked down to the door. As soon as my footsteps sounded on the stone path that led up to the shack, Bill stopped talking. I opened the door and went in.

  There was Bill Darby standing alone by the table. He acted like he was supprised to see me. I says, “Hello, Bill, who’s here?”

  “Nobody,” answers Bill. “What makes you ask that question?”

  I says, “Come on, Bill, you was talking when I come down here, and I know you don’t talk to yourself. Who is the fella?”

  Dick shook his head. “Nobody,” he says.

  I got mad.

  I threw my cap in the corner and begun to pull off my coat. “Bill Darby,” I says, “you and me been friends for a long time, and I like you a whole lot, but if you are gonna try to deceive me now, dern if I don’t try to whip you good.”

  Bill threw his hat on the floor and rolled up his sleeves. “All right, hothead Hawkins,” he says, “come on. If you have to fight, let’s get it done quick. Won’t take me long.”

  We both stood off and got ready to fight. We didn’t say a word. Bill stepped up quick and hauled back his fist, and just as he was about to sock me in the neck a voice broke in and says: