Stoner's Boy

by Robert F. Schulkers

  They both laughed and told me to keep on watching for signals.

  “Long Tom was down at the island yesterday,” says Hal.

  “I know it,” I answered, “and so were four other pals of Stoner’s boy.”

  They both looked at me in supprise. “How do you know all that?” asked Robby Hood.

  “I am watching for signals,” I says, “and sometimes when I don’t see signals I see something else.”

  Then I turned and walked down to the houseboat. I didn’t hear from them any more today.

  LONG TOM

  SATURDAY.—But this morning Robby Hood and Harold were both waiting at the houseboat when we came down to hold our meeting. “We need all the boys today,” said Harold to Dick. “I guess they will still stand by us.”

  “Certainly,” said Dick, “we will help you any way we can.”

  Harold had the Skinny Guy bring up six longboats from the island, and they were all there on the bank waiting for us, so we had a nice slow ride down to the island. Link’s pop had some lunch, as usual, and we ate it, and then we fished from the fancy houseboat till we got a call from Harold.

  It came shortly after dinner. Harold and Robby talked the plan over with Dick, and the three of them arranged us fellas around the clearing where Stoner’s Boy always disappeared when we chased him.

  “Now,” says Harold, after we all had our places, “we got this spot surrounded; nobody can get into this clearing without one of us seeing him.”

  So we all got instructions to wait and watch for anybody that would try to get through.

  “All you fellas sit low, so you will be hidden in the tall grass, and if you see anybody, let him come close, then get up and holler, and we can make him our prisoner.”

  We all sat low in the grass, but Jerry Moore lit his corncob pipe, and Harold had to go over and tell him to cut it out, as anybody could see his smoke coming up out of the grass where he sat.

  We waited half an hour anyhow. Dick and Harold and Robby kept going on around the clearing, talking to every fella, crawling on their hands and knees so nobody could see ’em.

  When they come to me they stopped. “Well, Hawkins,” says Harold, “what do you think of our plan now?”

  I says, “As much as I know of it, it is all right.” But I didn’t know enough about it, or I would have seen it wasn’t so much. Because about five minutes later we heard Tommy Wingfield scream from his place in the tall grass. We rushed over to him in a minit, and I saw somebody holding him down.

  Dick and me struck out with all our might, and the stranger disappeared, and we pulled Tommy out.

  “He came from inside the clearing,” whispered Tom, pale with fright. “He jumped on me.”

  “Harold,” says Robby Hood, shortly, “we forgot to figger on him coming out instead of coming in.”

  “Well,” spoke up Harold quickly, “tell your fellas, Dick, to close in all together, but be careful; he might have a gun or a bow and arrow.”

  The order was given to close in on the clearing. Every fella pushed through the bushes at his place, and we stood on the edge of the clearing. There was nobody there.

  Dick and Harold came over to me and Robby, and Dick said, “Where do you think he went?”

  Robby glanced all around the clearing. “Stand still, boys,” he called. “Don’t go any farther into the clearing.”

  Just then we heard a loud, hoarse laugh. “No!” hollered a loud, rough voice, “it would be safer for you fellas to go back the way you came.”

  Harold pulled Robby Hood’s arm and whispered, “He’s in the hollow tree.”

  Harold was right. In the old tree that had been struck by lightning was an awful dirty-looking face, with long hair, peeping through a hole that had rotted in the trunk of the tree.

  But Robby Hood walked out into the clearing. “I know you, Long Tom,” he hollered. “I saw you before, with Stoner in the city, and if you’ll come out of your rat hole I’ll meet you fair fist.”

  There came another rough laugh from the dirty face in the tree. “I won’t need to come out. You guys will be running back where you come from purty soon. Stoner’s gang is due here in a few minits—listen, you can hear ’em coming now.”

  We all stood still and listened. We heard the sound of running feet, and the shouting of a bunch of fellas, while a voice that led all the rest hollered, “Hurry, hurry, get ’em; don’t let one of ’em get away.”

  That was too much. Our ring of boys around the clearing bolted away as the sound of the oncoming gang drew nearer.

  “We better skip out,” I said to Harold and Robby. “We ain’t no match for Stoner’s gang.”

  So we all turned and ducked through the bushes, and ran for our longboats. As we turned around a thicket I bumped into a fella, and he struck out and hit me square in the mouth. I turned to hit back, when I saw it was Ham Gardner.

  “You fool,” he hollered, “don’t you know me?”

  “Ham,” I said, “what you doing here?”

  “Briggen and the whole bunch is here,” he answered quick. “We came to get Stoner’s gang.” Briggen came running up. In a minit I saw our mistake.

  “We thought you fellas were Stoner’s bunch,” I says. “Quick, let’s get back to the clearing. Long Tom is in the old rotten tree.”

  But of course, he wasn’t. No. Not Long Tom. None of Stoner’s pals stay in a tight place very long. By the time we rushed back to the clearing the tree was empty.

  Harold and Robby Hood were awful mad. They made us all search through all the tall grass and the bushes, but we didn’t find a trace of Long Tom.

  All of a sudden Harold hollered, “I know; run to the river, the other end of the island.”

  We all beat it as fast as we could for the north end of the island. But I’m so dern fat I can’t run very fast any more. By the time I reached there, most of the fellas were standing on the bank with their hands in their pockets.

  “Did you see him?” I asked.

  Harold and Robby smiled a sad smile at Dick Ferris, and Dick smiled at me. “Look,” says Dick. He pointed up the river.

  All I saw was a barrel paddling up the river with feet sticking out the bottom and hands out the sides. I nodded my head. “He gets away like Stoner used to do,” I says, “and he’s safe now; we might as well take our time going back.”

  Which we did.

  CHAPTER 28

  A Job Hawkins Didn’t Like

  MONDAY.—Us boys held our meeting this morning and made up our mind we would keep right after Long Tom and all of Stoner’s pals until we drove them away from our riverbank for good.

  “There’s a lot more of ’em hanging around,” said Harold to me, “and what we have to do is to clear ’em out as quick as we can.”

  I had to laugh. “It seems to me,” I said, “that it is going to take longer than you think, Harold.”

  Harold looked worried. “It’ll have to be soon, Hawkins,” he said, “because Oliver and me are going back to our Massachusetts school in a week.”

  “Ah,” I says, “I was hoping you two fellas would not go back there.”

  Harold smiled. “That’s good of you,” he says, “and you know we would like to stay here always, but honest, Hawkins, a fella has got to learn something, and he can’t learn much in a one-horse town like this.”

  I felt peeved at that. “Oh, I don’t know, Harold,” I says. “I ain’t had any schooling anywhere but here in this old one-horse town, and I don’t think I am such a dumhead.”

  Harold put his hand on my shoulder. “No,” he says. “You’re not, Hawkins, but all fellas ain’t like you. Some kids seem to have enough sense to need only a little bit of schooling to get somewhere. But Lordy, Hawkins, I ain’t that way; you don’t know how much studying it takes to make me learn anything.”

  I looked at Harold as if he was making fun of me, but he had an honest look in his eyes. “I am sorry to see you go,” I says. “I wish you were finished with your school in Massachusetts.�
��

  I started to walk away; I didn’t want to talk about school no more with Harold. But he came after me. “Hawkins,” he says, “why can’t you go to our Massachusetts school, too?”

  I shook my head and smiled. “I don’t need that much schooling,” I says. “You told me that yourself, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Well, yes,” he says. Then he sat down and gazed out over the water and didn’t say any more.

  I went back to the houseboat to do my writing in my seckatary book.

  TUESDAY.—Jerry Moore came to tell me this morning that Robby Hood and Harold were making their headquarters in our shack in the hollow.

  “They want to see you as soon as you get time,” says Jerry.

  “I’ll go in a few minits,” I answered. “Where you bound for Jerry?”

  He jerked his head toward the Pelham side. “Over there,” he said. “I saw some funny doings on the bank there last night, and I told Harold. He ordered me to spy around over there.”

  “Well,” I says, “you know we ain’t got any more right to go spying around the Pelham side than they have to come over here, so you better be careful.”

  “Don’t worry,” says Jerry. “I ain’t going to put my foot in anything.”

  I watched him go, and then I went down to the shack in the hollow.

  Robby and Harold were sitting at the table. “Come in, Hawkins,” says Harold. “We want your advice.”

  I walked over to the table. “We’ve made some improvements to this map,” says Robby, pointing to the big sheet of paper on the table.

  “I see,” says I. “A few more trees and things you got marked, but what does that do to help you get at Stoner’s gang?”

  Robby smiled. “You don’t catch on very quick,” he says. “Right in this clearing, which you see marked plainly on the map, Stoner and his pals disappeared. Every time we chased them into the clearing they disappeared. Now, we know that the place they disappear is inside the clearing. But how do they do it?”

  He stopped talking and looked up at me as if he wanted me to tell him. “You made the map,” I says. “You ought to know more about it than I do.”

  Both Harold and Robby laughed. “We do,” says Harold. “We kinda think Stoner hid in the old hollow tree that was struck by lightning.”

  “By George,” I says, “you’ve hit the nail on the head, I believe.”

  “We think so,” says Robby, “and we intend to make another try, and have a fella inside the tree hiding, so when Stoner or his pal, Long Tom, runs into it he will be captured.”

  I nodded my head and looked him straight in the eye. “Yeah,” I says, “I guess you think I’m going to be the guy who hides in the tree.”

  “You guessed it,” says Robby. “You’re the very person.”

  I shook my head. “I’m the very last person, you mean,” I says. “You guys ain’t going to get me in a tight place where I’ve got to meet a fella like Stoner or Long Tom single-handed.”

  Harold put his hand on my shoulder. “Aw cheer up, Hawkins,” he says. “What other fella would have enough nerve to do it?”

  “Nerve?” I asked. “Why you guys don’t know what a very little nerve I have. I’ll jump at my own shadow. I’m that easily scared.”

  Robby Hood shook his head. “You’re a wonder, Hawkins,” he says. “Every boy in the houseboat bunch knows you are the best liked fella in the crowd.”

  “Yeah,” I says, “and the biggest easy mark, too. Listen, Robby, you ain’t been here long enough to know, but every time there is some dirty work to do, I’m the guy they pick out to do it.”

  “Sure,” says Harold, “because you do everything so well; that’s why they always select you.”

  “Select,” I says, “that’s a fancy word to make it sound nicer, but dern if it ain’t just plain picking on a fella.”

  I turned and walked out to the door. Harold came after me.

  “Don’t leave us in a lurch, Hawkins,” he says. “I’m going back to Massachusetts next week; you can do this one thing for me yet.”

  I turned and looked at Harold’s good-looking face, and he had a way about him that I never could refuse when he looked at me.

  “Harold,” I says, “for you I will do this thing. But I am afraid I am going to get hurt.”

  He slapped me on the back. “Good old Hawkins,” he says. “You’re a brick.”

  I walked back to the houseboat by myself. “Brick,” I says, “I’m a brick; believe me, I’ll be as dead as a brick if I have to bump into Stoner or Long Tom in that rotten old tree.”

  WEDNESDAY.—When I came down to the houseboat this morning, Dick was sitting by the table alone. “You heard the plans?” he asked.

  “No,” I says, “I just came down.”

  “Well,” says Dick, “we are all to go down to the island again, when Harold and Robby Hood send for us. The Skinny Guy was just here and said that Harold and Robby were staying at his pop’s houseboat on the island.”

  I sat down on a chair and put my feet on the table. “Say, Dick,” I says, “it seems to me those two fellas spend too much time down on the island.”

  Dick smiled. “What do we care?” he says. “If we wanted to go down there, nobody would care, would they?”

  “I guess not,” I answered.

  “Besides,” continued Dick, “they are making a map of the island.”

  “Good night,” I says, “ain’t they finished with that yet?”

  “Almost,” says Dick, “all but one point; they ain’t sure which place it is that Stoner disappears into. They say they have a plan to find out.”

  I looked at Dick and said, “Yeah, I’m the plan.”

  He looked up at me quick. “How do you mean that?” he asked.

  Then I told him. He laughed. “I give them credit for selecting you, Hawkins,” says Dick.

  I looked at Dick sharp. “Selecting me,” I says. “They been telling you about it, haven’t they?”

  Dick confessed that they had talked the plan over with him. “But it will be all right, Hawkins,” he says. “We will be there to help you.”

  “Yeah,” I says, “but I’ll be in the tree, where I got to help myself.”

  THURSDAY.—Jerry Moore was waiting for me on the houseboat steps before we held our meeting.

  “Hawkins,” he says, “the Pelhams are up to some dirty work again.”

  I held up my hands. “Trouble enough now with Stoner,” I says. “Let’s keep out of the Pelham fights for the present.”

  Jerry shook his head. “No,” he says, “I can’t. You and the fellas wouldn’t either, if you knew.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “They’ve got a poor kid penned up in one of their little dirty cabins. He’s been there since Monday night. They say he belonged to Stoner’s gang, and was sent up to spy. That’s how Stoner knows everything we do up here; he always has a half a dozen fellas spying around, and we never find one. Now the Pelhams have caught one, and they are keeping him locked up.”

  Jerry had a sad tone in his voice as he told me this. But I couldn’t afford to be tangled up with other business now, since I had to be the one who was to hide in the rotten tree to wait for Stoner or his pals.

  “Jerry,” I says, “my advice is that you stay away from Pelham.”

  I walked away and went into the houseboat. But when we held our meeting, Jerry Moore was not present.

  FRIDAY.—We held our meeting early today, and just as I finished calling the roll, Bill Darby came in and says, “Briggen is outside. He wants to talk to the meeting.”

  “Send him in,” said Dick.

  In came Briggen and his two lieutenants, Ham Gardner and Dave Burns.

  “What’s the trouble?” asked Dick.

  “You fellas promised to leave us alone,” says Briggen, “and you told us you wouldn’t butt in on our plans. Yet one of your guys came over to our camp last night, and helped our prisoner to escape.”

  I looked at Briggen and said,
“What prisoner?”

  Briggen turned a sassy look upon me. “One that you fellas ought to be glad to keep locked up,” he said. “He was a spy of Stoner’s Boy. We caught him sneaking around our shacks. Us Pelhams thought you fellas would be glad to know we caught one of Stoner’s gang.”

  “We are,” said a voice from the door. Jerry Moore stood there, and behind him was a small boy, ragged and dirty, barefoot and sad-faced.

  “We certainly are,” repeated Jerry. “Come in, Sanders.”

  The dirty kid followed Jerry Moore up to Dick’s table. “Here is the prisoner,” said Jerry to Dick. “I couldn’t stand to see him penned up in that dirty Pelham shack.”

  Briggen sneered. “It’s no worse than your houseboat,” he snapped.

  “That will do,” says Dick. “What you intend to do with him, Jerry?”

  Jerry smiled. “He knows a whole lot of things that we would like to know,” says Jerry, “and he promised me he would tell.”

  The little dirty beggar nodded his head fast. “That I will,” he says, “only don’t give me away; will you promise not to tell on me?”

  Jerry patted him on his dirty head. “That will be all right, Sanders,” he said. “I’ll see you through safe.”

  “Well,” said Dick, “your prisoner has escaped, Briggen, and he is now our prisoner. Serves you right, anyhow; you should keep a closer watch on your jail.”

  Us boys laughed at that crack. Briggen and his pals made a grab for dirty Sanders. Jerry raised his fist. “Take your hands off him,” said Jerry, quietly. “You fellas are coaxing a good licking for yourself. Get out.”

  Jerry pointed his finger to the door.

  Briggen scowled. “You got us where you want us,” he says, “but there will come a time—”

  “Get out!” repeated Jerry, and he made a step toward Briggen.

  Briggen didn’t wait to say any more; he hurried out the door, and his two pals were at his heels.

  When they had gone, Dick says, “Jerry, you ought to be more careful what you say to them Pelhams.”

  “Aw shucks,” says Jerry, “they are just a bunch of troublemakers.”

  “Yes,” says Dick, “and we got enough trouble now.”