Stoner's Boy

by Robert F. Schulkers

  “Sure,” I says, “what are we going to do?”

  “This,” says Dick. “You will be the one to stay with him and watch him so he won’t get in any trouble. Harold is not a match for Stoner, and the Gray Ghost might hurt him.”

  “All right, Dick,” I says. “Leave him to me.”

  I walked back to the twins, and Dick went to play a game of ball with the boys in the hollow.

  “Harold,” I says, “us boys want to see you get what belongs to you, and we will help you all we can.”

  “Thanks,” he says, “that’s the way I like to hear boys talk. I hate anybody who acts like a coward.”

  I walked with the twins all afternoon. We went all around the cliffs, and I explained to them the place where Stoner’s Boy had his hiding place, and where we had so many exciting times. “If you want to go in,” I says, “we can see what it looks like.”

  But Harold shook his head. “No,” he says, “not just now. I ain’t going to go at this thing too hasty.”

  I said I thought he was wise.

  TUESDAY.—Today when I came down to the houseboat, Oliver met me with a worried look. “Come in, Hawkins,” he says. “Dick has something to show you.”

  I went in, wondering what else had happened now. But I saw Dick smiling when I came in, so I knew it wasn’t anything to worry about.

  “Here,” says Dick. “I’m getting tired of reading these; you see what you can make out of it.”

  He tossed a piece of paper over to me. “A note from Stoner,” I says.

  “Sure,” says Dick, “our favorite letter writer, who is afraid to show his face.”

  I read the note:

  Tell that pale-faced friend of yours that I never forgets anything a fella does to me. He has got an awful punch in that fist of his, but I won’t forget the knock on the jaw he give me down on the island. He will be sorry for that yet.

  It wasn’t signed, but it was the same old handwriting. I read it and laughed.

  Oliver looked worried. “Harold is always getting in trouble,” he says. “I am afraid this boy is pretty rough, and Harold isn’t much of a fighter.”

  “Listen, Oliver,” I says, “I’ll bet you that Harold will take care of himself. Just you let him alone and don’t worry.”

  But Oliver wouldn’t listen. “I will have to tell Father,” he says.

  But Dick Ferris jumped up when he said that. “No,” says Dick. “Us boys don’t bring fathers into our fights, Oliver; we do all our fighting ourself.”

  Oliver stepped back a pace or two. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, excuse me, I didn’t mean it that way, of course. I only thought it would be best that father should know how Harold is getting himself in danger.”

  I put my hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “Good boy,” I says, “that’s right, Oliver. I am glad you watch after your brother that way, but don’t worry; us fellas can take care of him. He won’t get hurt.”

  Oliver looked satisfied after I said that. “I wish you would help me find him now, Hawkins,” he says. “He has been gone for a long time, all by himself.”

  “All right,” I says, “he ain’t far, I bet, and he won’t be in any danger either. I got lots of hope in that brother of yours, Oliver.”

  We started out together. I saw Dick smiling at us when I turned around once. We didn’t have far to go. Harold was sitting under the willows by the river, fishing with an old limb of a tree for a rod and cord string for a line.

  “Come on down,” he hollers when he sees us. “They ain’t biting very good, but what can you expect with an outfit like this?”

  WEDNESDAY.—The Skinny Guy showed up for the first time this week, coming up from the island in a long canoe. Us boys were certainly glad to see him. Oliver seems to like Link. I don’t know why, but I guess it is because Link is so interesting. He is different from us boys, and he is so skinny he looks like a joke, and a fella has to laugh.

  Oliver hung around him all morning, asking him a million questions about Stoner’s Boy. When the other fellas went to play ball, Skinny Link came over to me and says, “Hawkins, Stoner’s Boy is camping on our island down there.”

  “What for?” I asked.

  “Search me,” says Link. “I guess he don’t want any of us fellas to know where he is hiding.”

  I says, “Have you found out where his hiding place is on the island?”

  “Sure,” says Link, “he’s got a little tent fixed up. You ought to see it.”

  “Maybe I will,” I says. “I have a notion that one of the twins will be down there to get back a fine fishing rod that disappeared when we were fishing down there.”

  Link looked interested. “Sure,” he says, “come on down; we can get it back, and we better do it soon before the Pelhams find the place, or they will take it and swear they got it somewhere else.”

  “I never thought of that, Link,” I says. “I guess you are right. We will be down there soon, but don’t let Stoner know that you have found his camping place.”

  Link said he would be very careful and paddled back down the river in his long canoe.

  THURSDAY.—About two o’clock this afternoon Harold and Dick and myself got in a canoe and started for the island. I told Harold all that the Skinny Guy had said, and Harold was anxious to go at once and face Stoner if he had to so that he could get back his fishing tackle. “Hawkins,” he says, “it ain’t so much the fishing tackle. I could buy another one just as good, but this one was given to me by my old teacher up in Massachussetts. I wouldn’t take a hundred dollars for it.”

  “We will get it back,” I says. “Only don’t get too anxious, and don’t do anything till you know it is safe.”

  Link was waiting on his houseboat when we reached the island. He made us come in and eat some lunch, and after that we struck out through the woods on the island. Link led the way. None of us said a word.

  All of a sudden we heard somebody walking in front of us. “Down,” whispered Link. All of us went to our knees and hid behind the bushes, listening.

  Link peeped through the leaves. “It’s Briggen,” he says. “Come on.”

  We got up and pushed through the bushes.

  We were supprised to see about ten Pelhams standing in a ring among a lot of trees. Briggen turned quick when he heard us. He had a big stick in his hand, and the other Pelhams all had shinny sticks. “Don’t make no noise,” he said in a low voice. “Go back the way you come.”

  Dick got sore. “We ain’t going to take orders from you, Briggen,” says Dick.

  Briggen smiled in a mean sort of way. “I say you will,” he says. “Us Pelhams got this place surrounded; that gray ghost ain’t going to get away from us. I’m going to give him the beating of his life.”

  I says, “Briggen, us fellas got the work to do. We know we can get him.”

  Briggen shook his head. “Not today you won’t,” he said. “You fellas go back the way you come, right away, or I’ll call all my Pelhams and make you go.”

  Harold came over to me. “It’s no use trying now, Hawkins,” he says, “these fellas would spoil our plans anyway, and they are ten to one against us.”

  Much as we hated to do it, we turned and went back. Link was smiling. “Them Pelhams don’t know the Gray Ghost,” he says. “They never will catch him unless they know how he gets in and gets out again.”

  We thanked Link, and told him maybe we would be down tomorrow, and bring all the rest of the fellas to help us get past the Pelhams.

  FRIDAY.—Link came up this morning in his long canoe and had to laugh as he told us how the Pelhams got fooled. “They stayed on the island till dark,” he says, “waiting for Stoner’s Boy, and then they had to go home without seeing him.”

  I says, “How did the Gray Ghost get away, Link?”

  Link laughed. “He wasn’t there,” he says. “He went away somewhere. I guess he was up in his cave all day yesterday. He didn’t show up at his camping place.”

  “Well,” I says, “we won’t go down toda
y. It looks too much like rain. We don’t want to be out in that wild woods if a storm comes up.”

  So Link said he would look for us tomorrow if the weather was nice, and we said we would come.

  Harold says to me, “Hawkins, I am going up in the cave.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you, Harold,” I says. “What’s the idea?”

  “I am going to meet this Stoner,” he says, “or find out something.”

  “All right,” I says, “I’ll stick with you.”

  So I took him up. He wasn’t afraid of caves at all. We went in where Stoner’s hiding place begins and crawled over to the big split in the rock, at the bottom of which we could hear old Cave River running.

  “Acrost this pit is Stoner’s den,” I says.

  Harold whistled. “Great guns,” he says, “how does he get acrost?”

  “Wait,” I says, “I’ll show you.”

  The rope that Stoner used was hanging tied to our side. I took it and swung myself acrost.

  “That’s fun!” hollered Harold. “Send the rope back.”

  I swung it back to his side, and he caught it and swung over. “That’s great sport,” he says. “Now, where does this gray thing hide?”

  I says, “Don’t talk so loud, Harold, you make me nervous. This ain’t no place for us anyhow.”

  He laughed and pushed me on. “Go ahead,” he says. “I want to see the whole show.”

  I took him further on, lighting up the way with my flashlight. At last we stood in a little round cave where the roof was low, and I flashed my light around. “This is it,” I said.

  Harold gave a little cry and jumped over to a bunch of stuff that was lying on the floor, old coats and hats, and pots and pans, and what not. “Look,” he says. He held up something. I flashed my light on it. It was his fishing rod.

  “Glory be,” he hollered. “I am glad to get it back, you bet you.”

  I begun to feel creepy. “Come on,” I says. “I am glad you got it back, too. Let’s get out as quiet as we can. No telling where that gray ghost is. He might be watching us from someplace right now. You never can tell.”

  Without a word we snuck back to the pit, and Harold swung acrost first, and I followed. We got outside into the fresh air as quick as we could.

  “Don’t say a word about being up there, Harold,” I says, “and don’t tell anyone we took the fishing rod out of Stoner’s hiding place.”

  Harold said he would keep mum; he was glad to get it back, and that was all he cared.

  SATURDAY.—We held our regular meeting this morning, and the fellas paid us their dues. After that the boys had a game of ball in the hollow, and I played awhile, and so did Harold.

  I quit purty soon, and I says to Harold, “Why didn’t Oliver come down?”

  “I don’t know,” says Harold. “I guess he went fishing. He kinda likes that Skinny Guy.”

  I says, “Did he go down to the island?”

  “Yes,” says Harold, “I heard him talking about it last night.”

  That settled it. I called the fellas together and said we would go down to see Link Lambert and his pop at the island.

  I give Jerry my good gun that Larry King give me, and he says, “What’s this for?”

  I says, “We might need it, Jerry.”

  We paddled in five canoes and landed at Link’s houseboat. Link was glad to see us.

  “Where’s Oliver?” asked Harold.

  “Gone to dig some bait,” says Link. “He thought he would like to fish with worms.”

  We told the other fellas to stay on Link’s houseboat till we came back, or till they heard us call for them. Then Link and Harold and Dick Ferris and me struck out through the woods.

  “Link,” I says, “you ought not let Oliver go out by himself; you know Stoner is around here.”

  Link laughed. “The Gray Ghost ain’t got nothing against that twin, has he?” Link asked.

  “No,” I says, “but you don’t know what Stoner is libel to do.”

  “Well,” says Link, “he ain’t gone far; I’ll find him for you.”

  We did find him. We suddenly came to a place where we heard voices. One was the voice of Stoner’s Boy. The other was Oliver. We hid behind the green thicket and peeped out. There stood Stoner’s Boy, long coat, wide hat, gray muffler over his chin, his feet spread out, his arms folded on his chest, talking to Oliver, who stood a few feet away, holding a tin can in one hand and his hat in the other.

  “Listen,” says Stoner’s Boy, “you thought you was going to get away from me, didn’t you, without me getting my hands on you?”

  Oliver answered in a low voice. “You must be mistaken,” he says.

  We heard Stoner’s mocking laugh. “Oho,” he hollers, “ain’t that rich, me mistaken. Now, listen, sonny, I am just going to give you a licking to remember me by. I ain’t going to let you think Stoner’s Boy is an easy-going fella. I don’t want you to ever butt in on me again.”

  He started for Oliver. The next minit Harold pushed aside the bushes and stepped out. He didn’t say a word. Oliver saw his brother and looked toward him. Stoner saw the look and stopped. He turned to where Oliver was looking. His eyes narrowed. He turned and looked again at Oliver, then back to Harold. They look alike, them twins do, and Stoner was puzzled. “Well, I’ll be blowed,” he started to say. But he couldn’t understand. He didn’t know they were twins. He stared at Harold.

  “There’s more where we came from,” spoke Harold.

  At the same minit we heard the yelling of Briggen and his Pelham fellas in the distance. They probably had found his trail.

  Stoner turned and ran. Oliver looked on worriedly. Harold was smiling. A few minits after Stoner had gone the Pelhams rushed through the bushes.

  “He just went down that way,” hollered Link, pointing to where the Gray Ghost had disappeared.

  With another shout the Pelham leader led his followers through the bushes.

  Harold shook his head. “More excitement here than at school, ain’t it so, Oliver?”

  He went over and patted Oliver on the shoulder. “That’s the time you come near taking a beating for me.”

  Oliver grabbed Harold’s hand. “Oh, buddy,” he says, “I wish you would be more careful. Some day that fella is going to meet you alone.”

  “I am hoping for that day,” says Harold, quietly. “What you got in that can—worms? Well, well, well, we will have to go right down and try our luck with them.”

  Which we did.

  “THERE’S MORE WHERE WE CAME FROM,” SPOKE HAROLD,

  CHAPTER 22

  Stoner’s Boy Is Captured

  MONDAY.—Us boys held our meeting early this morning, because some of the fellas wanted to go away to a picnic down at Banklick Creek, where there is a fine swimming hole. I didn’t care to go, and neither did Dick Ferris and the twins. Us four were sitting on the houseboat steps right after the other fellas left for the creek, and Dick says, “It would be a shame if Stoner’s Boy popped up at that picnic and gave the fellas a scare.”

  Oliver looked at Dick with worry in his eyes. “That boy is terrible,” he says. “Something ought to be done to make him stay away from here.”

  I laughed. “Oliver,” I says, “there wouldn’t be anybody to make excitement for us fellas, if it wasn’t for Stoner’s Boy.”

  Oliver gave me a disagreeable look and said, “It isn’t right; it’s dangerous the way he plays. Somebody may get hurt if we don’t look out.”

  Harold was chewing on a piece of grass, and he looked up as Oliver said that. “Plays?” he repeated. “Believe me, that Stoner’s Boy isn’t playing with us; he’s after us for all he can do to us.”

  Dick Ferris nodded. “You’re right,” he says. “It’s up to us to take care of ourself.”

  Just then we saw the Skinny Guy coming up the river path. “Here comes Link,” I says. “I’ll bet he is going to report something about Stoner.”

  We all turned to wait for Link. “Hi, Hawkins,” h
e says to me, as if he didn’t see the other fellas sitting there. “I got something to tell you.”

  “What did I tell you?” I asked, turning around to Dick and the twins. “Wait here, till I see what he has to say.”

  I went over to one side of the houseboat with Link.

  “Well,” I says, “what now?”

  Link held his hands to his lips and whispered, “Stoner is here, and he has a gang with him.”

  “What!” I shouted.

  “Not so loud,” says Link, “don’t let everybody know; they’ll all run home if they find out about it.”

  Link was right about that. I believe every fella in the bunch would of gone straight home if he had to face more than one fella like Stoner’s Boy.

  “Gee whiz,” I says, “that does make a difference. I guess we will have to turn the whole business over to the sheriff from now on.”

  “Sheriff?” said a voice behind us. “What’s the use of turning something over to the sheriff when we can take care of it ourself?”

  “HERE COMES LINK.”

  We looked to see Harold, the twin, standing in back of us, chewing a long piece of grass he held in his hand. Link was about to say something sassy to Harold, but the twin beat him to it. “Listen here,” he says, “you boys been on the trail of this Stoner for months, and you haven’t been able to lay your hands on him; but I’ll show you how to nab him.”

  Link grinned. “You got a lot of nerve,” he says.

  Harold smiled. “I used to have,” he said, “but ever since I came back here it seems like I don’t know how to manage it.”

  “Well, Harold,” I says, “you said you would get him; now let’s see you do it.”

  Dick and Oliver came walking over. “Harold says he is going to catch Stoner for us,” I says.

  Oliver raised his hand. “Please let my brother out of it,” he says.

  “Never mind, Oliver,” says Harold, “these fellas got to learn some time; it might as well be now. I’ll have this gray ghost tied hand and foot for you before many days, and I’ve got to ask you to do the rest. I’ll catch him, and then my work will be done. You understand?”