TUESDAY.—So today Johnny comes down with his plans. Me and Bill Darby listened to him for an hour, but dern if any of us could figger out just what he wanted to do.
He said we ought to write a note and stick it on the door of our houseboat. That’s all.
I says, “Yeah, but for goodness sake, what you going to write on the note?”
Johnny laughed at us. “You poor simps,” he says, “it’s a pity I gotta bum around with guys like you; you don’t seem to know you are alive.”
I got kinda sore. I says, “Cut out the funny stuff, Johnny. Get down to business and tell us what you figger on doing.”
Johnny says, “Well, get a pencil and a piece of paper. I’ll write the note.”
I pulled out a pencil, and Lew Hunter give him a piece of an old envelope he had in his pocket. Johnny wrote for ten minutes or so; then he says, “Here, we will tack this up on our door.”
I took the piece of paper and read it loud. Here’s what it was:
Us boys want to talk things over with you, Stoner’s Boy. We don’t want no revenge, we want to be peaceful, we don’t want any more fights with you. Come down to our houseboat and show your face. If you come with your handkachif off your face we will know you are coming peaceful, but if you keep your face covered up, we will know you are still our enemy But we don’t think you got enough courage to show your face.
I says to Johnny, “Is this all you want to say to him?”
Johnny nodded his head. “Yes,” he says, “for the time being, that is enough. When we meet him face to face we will have lots of time to tell him a few things.”
I says, “All right, tack it up.”
So we put it up on our houseboat door this afternoon after we held our regular meeting.
I says, “What you think of it, Jerry?”
He just grinned. “It’s great,” he says. “Wait till Stoner’s Boy sends you his answer; you will be surprised.”
WEDNESDAY.—Us boys hurried down to the houseboat after school today, to see if Stoner’s Boy had been there while we was gone. We was anxious to know if he had seen our note on the houseboat door. But the Skinny Guy was sitting on the steps, and I seen the note was sticking just where we put it. Link shook his head when he seen us coming. “He ain’t been here,” says Link. “I been chasing him all over.”
I says, “Link, you mean to say you seen Stoner’s Boy?”
Link chuckled. “Sure,” he says, “I give him the scare of his life last night, but he don’t know yet that it was me. I was hiding behind Dobel’s old scarecrow that was left standing since last year, and when I seen him coming up from the river I yowled like a sick cat, and Stoner thought it was spooks. He couldn’t see me; he turned and ran back down to the river and got in his launch and rode away as fast as he could.”
Johnny walked over and shook his finger in the Skinny Guy’s face. “Look-a-here, Link Lambert,” says Johnny, “next time you try to spoil our plans, I am going to have you fired out of our houseboat.”
Link looked worried. He says, “Who, me?”
“Yes,” says Johnny, “you keep away from that Stoner fella. We don’t want him chased away now; we want him to come up and read this note on our door.”
Link grinned. “All right,” he says, “I’ll chase him up this way tonight, then.”
THURSDAY.—It rained last night and all day today. We had a meeting in our houseboat after school, but only a few fellas showed up. The first thing we did was to look at our houseboat door. The note was gone. While we was standing in front of our houseboat we saw a fella coming down the path. He was a purty nice dressed fella with a pleasant, smiling face; but us boys didn’t know him. I says, “It must be a new Pelham fella.” He saw us watching him, and he walked faster. When he got near us we saw he had a piece of paper in his hands. He says, “I come to see a fella named Seckatary Hawkins.”
I stepped down off the steps and walked over to him. “That’s me,” I says. “I’m the seckatary of this houseboat.”
He handed me the note. “This,” he says, “was give to me by a boy I never seen before; he told me to take it to Seckatary Hawkins down in the houseboat, by the river.”
I took the envelope and says, “Thank you.”
He says, “You’re welcome.” Then he turned and walked back the way he come.
I tore the envelope open as quick as I could. All the fellas was looking over my shoulder. As soon as I spread out the sheet of paper on my hand I knowed that it was sent by Stoner’s Boy. I never could forget that scratchy handwriting. I says, “Listen, fellas, I’ll read it to you.”
So I read:
Yes, I seen your note on your houseboat door, and I ain’t got no reason for hiding my face, but I ain’t feeling well, that Skinny fella in your gang ran me ragged a couple of nights ago. I got awful sick. When I am ready I will come, you will look in my face, I ain’t afraid of you, but you got to promise me you won’t have no sheriff there to git me arrested.
Johnny slapped me on the back and grinned. “It worked,” he says.
I says, “What worked?”
He says, “Why, my plan, it was me who figgered out to write him a note to come.”
I says, “Hold your horses; he ain’t come yet.”
“No,” says Johnny, “but he will. You can rely on him; when he says he will come, you know he will be here. He ain’t afraid of us.”
Jerry Moore says, “When he does come, I am going to make him a present of a nice little punch in the eye.”
FRIDAY.—The Skinny Guy come up to me quick today when I showed up at the houseboat, and I could see he was excited. He says, “Hawkins, I know where Stoner’s Boy is, but I can’t find him.”
I looked at Link out of one eye and says, “What kind of talk you call that; you know where he is, but you can’t find him?”
Link crossed his heart. “Honest to goodness,” he says, “I heard him singing.”
I says, “Link, you sure are losing your mind over this here Stoner fella; you better forget about him for a while.”
Link grabbed my arm. “Hawkins,” he says, “Stoner’s Boy ain’t sick; it’s all a big bluff. He was here last night, and he is around here this minit, if I could only find him.”
I says, “Take me to the place where you heard him, Link.”
So Link started out on a run, and I followed him. He took me on the cliff where we fly our kites. He stopped and motioned for me to wait. Then he hollered, “Come on, you singing bird, let’s hear you now.”
Then he stopped to listen. No sound come. He tried it again. Still no sound. “It ain’t no use,” he says. “He must of gone.”
I says, “Link, if I didn’t know you so well I would think you was trying to make a fool out of me.”
But Link was real earnest. “No, Hawkins,” he says, “meet me here tonight. I bet he will answer me tonight.”
“All right,” I says.
So, after supper, I called for Bill Darby and Johnny McLaren. I told ’em what Link had told me, and I made them go down to the cliffs with me. Halfway up the rocks we was all frightened by a dark shadow that come running from under a big rock. It was Link. I says, “Dern you, Link, don’t jump out at us that way; every time I see something move I think it is that gray ghost of Stoner’s Boy.”
Link was too excited to listen. “He’s here,” he says, “listen.”
We all listened, but we didn’t hear nothing. So Link hollered, “Come on, old canary bird, I’m waiting.”
Right away came the answer, “Come on, old mockingbird, I’m waiting.”
Bill Darby grinned. “What you trying to do, Link, make us think that echo is Stoner’s Boy?”
Link says, “Echo—did you ever hear an echo come back mockingbird when you holler canary bird?”
Bill stopped grinning. “That’s right,” he says. “It must of been somebody in hiding up here.”
I says, “Link is right; it is somebody hiding.”
Link says, “Bill, if you don’
t believe it, holler something yourself.”
Bill grinned for a minit; then he hollered, “Where are you?”
And the answer come right back, “Come and see.”
We all stood still, nobody saying a word.
I says, “Link, there ain’t no use to try to find his hiding place tonight; we better all go home and hunt tomorrow. We will have plenty of time then.”
So we all walked back, and while we walked we talked about how strange it all was.
But nobody was ready to explain. When we was about halfway down the cliff we heard a song come from the top of the hill, and Link grabbed me by the arm. “That’s him,” he whispered. “That’s the same old song.”
We didn’t say no more, but we walked down close together, listening to that singing sound, and we was glad when we got so far away that we couldn’t hear it no more.
SATURDAY.—Every fella was down early this morning. We cleaned up the old houseboat, paid our dues, and held our regular meeting. Bill Darby started a game of ball, and we had to choose sides and went down to the hollow, where we begun to play.
Little Frankie Kane got hit in the eye with the ball, and he started to cry, so we took him up to Doc Waters’s office to get fixed up. Poor little kid, I guess it did hurt purty bad. Doc scolded me for it. I says, “Gee whiz, Doc, I can’t keep watching that little fella all the time.”
Doc was mad anyhow. He says, “You know his mama always wants you to take care of him. He is too little to get hurt. Look at his eye now.” It was all black and blue.
But Doc chased us out of his office and took Frankie home in his automobile.
We went back down to the houseboat. Just as we come to the front steps Bill Darby says, “Here comes that fella what brought Stoner’s Boy’s letter.”
Sure enough. We all looked and seen him come walking slow down the muddy path, like he was taking his time, and I seen he had another envelope in his hand. He walked right up to me. “Here is a note for you, Seckatary Hawkins,” he says.
I took it and says, “Thanks.”
He says, “You’re welcome.”
Then he turned around and started to walk back.
Bill Darby hollered, “Hey, boy, wait a minit; we got to ask you something.”
He turned around slow and says, “I am sorry, but I made a promise that I wouldn’t say nothing, but just deliver this note to you boys.”
Then he smiled and nodded his head and kept on walking up the path. We stood still watching him until he disappeared behind the bushes up on the main road. It seemed to me that he started to walk faster when he reached the main road.
We was so anxious to read what Stoner’s Boy had to say that we tore open the letter quick and read it. Here is what it said:
Well, Seckatary Hawkins, you and your boys are too slow for me. I ain’t going to give you another chanst, if you want to meet me you will have to come to my hiding place, but I guess you ain’t smart enough for that. When you hear me sing, just follow the sound, maybe you will come to my hiding place, but most likely you won’t. I never seen such a bunch of boobs like you in my whole life. Good-by, get a little pep in you and be alive.
“HAWKINS, HE HOLLERS. LOOK HERE, LOOK AT THESE FOOTPRINT.”
After we read it, we all stood looking at one another, not knowing what to say. All of a sudden I heard Johnny give a shout. “Hawkins,” he hollered, “look here; look at these footprints.”
I looked down on the muddy path quick. There was the footprints of shoes with lots of roundheaded nails in ’em—the footprints of Stoner’s Boy, made by the fella who brought the letters.
“It’s him,” hollered Johnny. “We was looking right in the face of Stoner’s Boy, and we didn’t have sense enough to figger it out.”
I looked at Johnny, and Johnny looked at me. All of the fellas stood looking at us, too surprised to speak.
I says, “Come on, quick; we might catch up with him yet.”
But, although we started right away, we was too late. We was running up the bank, when we shoulda knowed that smart gray ghost had only gone that way for a bluff, and he would turn quick behind those bushes and make a bee-line for the river.
Even as we turned back we could hear the chug-chug-chug of his gray launch starting up the river.
Then came the sound of a horn—the horn Stoner’s Boy always blows when he is leaving our shore.
We went back to the houseboat. All of a sudden I says, “Which one of you fellas remembers how he looks?”
But they all shook their heads. Not one of ’em had enough sense to think that the boy what brought the letter was Stoner himself. Neither did I. We thought he was only a shy messenger bringing notes from Stoner—we had not paid much attention to his looks. For the life of me I couldn’t bring back to my mind just how his face looked. He had blue eyes—but then, we always could see his eyes above the gray handkachif, but we couldn’t remember his face.
“Well,” says Johnny, “we might as well make up our mind to fight it out with Stoner’s Boy for a while longer.”
Which we did.
CHAPTER 11
The Stolen Kite
MONDAY.—Us boys felt purty cheap because Stoner’s Boy slipped through our fingers so easy last week. Gee whiz, we sure was boneheads not to know it was him who come right up to our houseboat. The funny part of it is that none of us paid much attention to him; we thought it was only somebody he was sending to us with a note. Then when we saw his footprints after he was gone, we knew it was Stoner’s Boy himself. But none of us fellas could remember what he looked like.
I says to Dick Ferris, “The next time a strange fella comes around here, believe me I am going to take a good look at his face.”
Jerry Moore says, “I bet you ten to one it wasn’t really Stoner’s Boy who brought those notes to us.”
But Lew Hunter says, “You would lose, Jerry, ’cause it was him all right.”
Dick says, “Yes, Jerry, it was Stoner’s Boy. Here’s the note he left for us on the door last night:
Well I hope you guys are satisfide now, you wanted me to come and show my face, and I did, and you guys didn’t have sense enough to know me when I come. I can’t give you another chance, but you will hear from me soon enough.
Jerry Moore was awful sore when he read that note. “It’s just like you guys,” he says. “You fellas are too dumb.”
I says, “Jerry, what’s the use of starting a fuss all the time. You ain’t so very smart yourself, else you would of caught this Stoner fella long ago.” Jerry didn’t say no more; he walked off with Clarence Wilks.
I says to Dick, “Do you think us boys ought to look for Stoner’s Boy any longer?”
Dick thought awhile; then he says, “Dern if I know. It don’t seem like we got anything to be afraid of.”
I says, “Well, we might as well keep our eyes open for him.”
Lew Hunter says, “You bet, that slick boy will pop up when you ain’t looking for him and pull one of his mean tricks on us again.”
Dick says, “Well, he can’t go on forever; even the sun is going to stand still someday.”
TUESDAY.—Johnny McLaren come down to the houseboat with a box full of bells and wires and things today. We held our meeting, all the boys being present. After we was in our seats, Dick says, “Johnny McLaren wants to tell us about a plan he has to catch Stoner’s Boy.”
So Johnny got up and says, “See this box, boys? It’s full of electric batteries and wires and bells and things, and I am going to fix it up in here and connect it with the doors and windows of our houseboat, so that if anybody tries to sneak in, he will start a bell ringing, and then we can come right down and catch him.”
Jerry Moore butted in and said, “Suppose the bell starts ringing about midnight—what then?”
Johnny gives Jerry a nasty look and says, “Why I guess you will just keep on sleeping; nothing is going to get you outta bed till the sun comes up.”
Dick Ferris says, “You boys will please l
et Johnny alone; it’s his turn to talk. Please don’t butt in no more.”
So Johnny says, “Some of you boys stick around here after the meeting and help me fix these bells and wires.”
So after the meeting we helped him put up the wires and things. Johnny knows all about batteries and bells; his pop give him lessons about ’lectricity.
It was purty cute the way he fixed the bells so nobody would even think there was a bell around the place. He run the wires under the baseboard around the floor, and then under the thick paper on the walls. A funny thing was fixed on the windows so that when a window was opened it would start the bell ringing. The same way with the doors. “Now,” says Johnny, “we will attach the batteries; then let Stoner’s Boy try to break in again.” We all thought Johnny was purty slick.
WEDNESDAY.—This afternoon we took Frankie Kane’s big kite up on the cliff to fly it for him. We had another ball of cord, so we could let it out farther, and we all sat down and let Jerry Moore and Bill Darby start the kite out. It took a little time to get it started. But purty soon a strong breeze come up the river and took the kite with it. “Let it out,” says Jerry to Bill.
So Bill let the kite winder loose, and it turned around fast as an electric fan. Out went the kite.
“Come here, Hawkins,” hollered Bill. “Help me hold this dern thing.”
I got hold of the kite winder frame, and believe me, that kite sure was pulling. I says, “We got to stop it soon; there ain’t much more string on this winder.”
But Jerry Moore hollered, “Let her out and hold her in till she is way over the river.”
So we just let her go. The big kite was sailing over the Pelham bank already. Purty soon she got out over a bunch of trees where the Pelham woods begins.
“Now,” says Jerry, “hold her there, and we will send a piece of paper up to her.”
So he got a little piece of newspaper and cut a slit in it and then stuck it on the string. Up she went. Oh boy, that was sure purty the way she sailed right on up the string, all the way up to the kite.
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