CHAPTER VI.
SAM'S SUDDEN SICKNESS.
"Where have you been, you young scamp?" demanded the deacon,wrathfully.
"I just went away a minute or two," said Sam, abashed.
"A minute or two!" ejaculated the deacon.
"It may have been more," said Sam. "You see I aint got no watch totell time by."
"How comes it that you have only got through six hills all themorning?" said the deacon, sternly.
"Well, you see, a cat came along--" Sam began to explain.
"What if she did?" interrupted the deacon. "She didn't stop your work,did she?"
"Why, I thought I'd chase her out of the field."
"What for?"
"I thought she might scratch up some of the potatoes," said Sam, abrilliant excuse dawning upon him.
"How long did it take you to chase her out of the field, where shewasn't doing any harm?"
"I was afraid she'd come back, so I chased her a good ways."
"Did you catch her?"
"No, but I drove her away. I guess she won't come round here again,"said Sam, in the tone of one who had performed a virtuous action.
"Did you come right back?"
"I sat down to rest. You see I was pretty tired with running sofast."
"If you didn't run any faster than you have worked, a snail wouldcatch you in half a minute," said the old man, with justifiablesarcasm. "Samuel, your excuse is good for nothing. I must punishyou."
Sam stood on his guard, prepared to run if the deacon should makehostile demonstrations. But his guardian was not a man of violence,and did not propose to inflict blows. He had another punishment inview suited to Sam's particular case.
"I'll go right to work," said Sam, seeing that no violence wasintended, and hoping to escape the punishment threatened, whatever itmight be.
"You'd better," said the deacon.
Our hero (I am afraid he has not manifested any heroic qualities asyet) went to work with remarkable energy, to the imminent danger ofthe potato-tops, which he came near uprooting in several instances.
"Is this fast enough?" he asked.
"It'll do. I'll take the next row, and we'll work along together. Takecare,--I don't want the potatoes dug up."
They kept it up for an hour or more, Sam working more steadily,probably, than he had ever done before in his life. He began to thinkit was no joke, as he walked from hill to hill, keeping up with thedeacon's steady progress.
"There aint much fun about this," he thought. "I don't like workin' ona farm. It's awful tiresome."
"What's the use of hoein' potatoes?" he asked, after a while. "Won'tthey grow just as well without it?"
"No," said the deacon.
"I don't see why not."
"They need to have the earth loosened around them, and heaped up whereit's fallen away."
"It's a lot of trouble," said Sam.
"We must all work," said the deacon, sententiously.
"I wish potatoes growed on trees like apples," said Sam. "Theywouldn't be no trouble then."
"You mustn't question the Almighty's doin's, Samuel," said the deacon,seriously. "Whatever he does is right."
"I was only wonderin', that was all," said Sam.
"Human wisdom is prone to err," said the old man, indulging in a scrapof proverbial philosophy.
"What does that mean?" thought Sam, carelessly hitting the deacon'sfoot with his descending hoe. Unfortunately, the deacon had corns onthat foot, and the blow cost him a sharp twinge.
"You careless blockhead!" he shrieked, raising the injured foot fromthe ground, while a spasm of anguish contracted his features. "Did youtake my foot for a potato-hill?"
"Did I hurt you?" asked Sam, innocently.
"You hurt me like thunder," gasped the deacon, using, in hisexcitement, words which in calmer moments he would have avoided.
"I didn't think it was your foot," said Sam.
"I hope you'll be more careful next time; you most killed me."
"I will," said Sam.
"I wonder if it isn't time for dinner," he began to think presently,but, under the circumstances, thought it best not to refer to thematter. But at last the welcome sound of the dinner-bell was heard, asit was vigorously rung at the back door by Mrs. Hopkins.
"That's for dinner, Samuel," said the deacon. "We will go to thehouse."
"All right!" said Sam, with alacrity, throwing down the hoe in thefurrow.
"Pick up that hoe, and carry it with you," said the deacon.
"Then we won't work here any more to-day!" said Sam, brightening up.
"Yes, we will; but it's no way to leave the hoe in the fields. Somecat might come along and steal it," he added, with unwonted sarcasm.
Sam laughed as he thought of the idea of a cat stealing a hoe, and thedeacon smiled at his own joke.
Dinner was on the table. It was the fashion there to put all on atonce, and Sam, to his great satisfaction, saw on one side a pie likethat which had tempted him the night before. The deacon saw his look,and it suggested a fitting punishment. But the time was not yet.
Sam did ample justice to the first course of meat and potatoes. Whenthat was despatched, Mrs. Hopkins began to cut the pie.
The deacon cleared his throat.
"Samuel is to have no pie, Martha," he said.
His wife thought it was for his misdeeds of the night before, and sodid Sam.
"I couldn't help walkin' in my sleep," he said, with a blank look ofdisappointment.
"It aint that," said the deacon.
"What is it, then?" asked his wife.
"Samuel ran away from his work this mornin', and was gone nigh on totwo hours," said her husband.
"You are quite right, Deacon Hopkins," said his wife, emphatically."He don't deserve any dinner at all."
"Can't I have some pie?" asked Sam, who could not bear to lose sotempting a portion of the repast.
"No, Samuel. What I say I mean. He that will not work shall not eat."
"I worked hard enough afterwards," muttered Sam.
"After I came back--yes, I know that. You worked well part of thetime, so I gave you part of your dinner. Next time let the catsalone."
"Can I have some more meat, then?" asked Sam.
"Ye-es," said the deacon, hesitating. "You need strength to work thisafternoon."
"I s'pose I get that catechism this afternoon instead of goin to work,"suggested Sam.
"That will do after supper, Samuel. All things in their place. Theafternoon is for work; the evening for readin' and study, andimprovin' the mind."
Sam reflected that the deacon was a very obstinate man, and decidedthat his arrangements were very foolish. What was the use of living ifyou'd got to work all the time? A good many people, older than Sam,are of the same opinion, and it is not wholly without reason; butthen, it should be borne in mind that Sam was opposed to all work. Hebelieved in enjoying himself, and the work might take care of itself.But how could it be avoided?
As Sam was reflecting, a way opened itself. He placed his hand on hisstomach, and began to roll his eyes, groaning meanwhile.
"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Hopkins.
"I feel sick," said Sam, screwing up his face into strangecontortions.
"It's very sudden," said Mrs. Hopkins, suspiciously.
"So 'tis," said Sam. "I'm afraid I'm going to be very sick. Can I laydown?"
"What do you think it is, Martha?" asked the deacon, lookingdisturbed.
"I know what it is," said his wife, calmly. "I've treated such attacksbefore. Yes, you may lay down in your room, and I'll bring you sometea, as soon as I can make it."
"All right," said Sam, elated at the success of his little trick. Itwas very much pleasanter to lie down than to hoe potatoes on a hotday.
"How easy I took in the old woman!" he thought.
It was not long before he changed his mind, as we shall see in Thenext chapter.
The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the Streets Page 8
