CHAPTER IX
IN JAIL AT LAST
"Oh, the sky is blue and the sun is high,
And the days roll 'round, and the weeks go by——"
BO," interrupted Horatio, softly; "what's that over there on the bank that looks like a man all in a wad?"
The little boy was singing along through the sweet Louisiana afternoon, putting into his song whatever came into his head:—
"And I turn, and I look, and what do I see?
Someone's left his bundle by a live oak tree."
"What do you suppose is in that bundle, Bo?" asked the Bear, anxiously.
"Oh, I don't know. Old clothes, from the looks of it. The owner isn't far off.
"When a coat and vest and hat, and pair of trousers you espy,
You can bet your bottom dollar there's a man close by."
Horatio looked in every direction. Then he walked over to the clothes.
"Why," said Bo, following; "I guess somebody's taking a swim. Come on, Ratio. Remember the honey and the oranges."
But the Bear was curious. He picked up the hat and set it on his head. Bo laughed lazily. Then Horatio laid down his violin and slipped one arm into the waistcoat, trying vainly to reach with the other. Bo good-naturedly helped him. The little boy felt in the humor for fun, and Horatio looked too comical.
"Better not put on the coat," said Bo. "It might not be big enough and if you tore it the owner would make us pay for it."
But Horatio was excited.
"Hurry, Bo! Help me on with it. How do I look, Bo? I think I'll dress this way all the time, hereafter. Is my hat becoming, Bo?"
"Oh, there was an Old Bear in a hat and a coat,"
sang Bo, but he got no further, for suddenly close by there was a loud yell, and without pausing to look behind Horatio made a wild dash in the other direction, followed by the little boy. Glancing back as they ran, Bo saw that they were pursued by a tall white man. He had paused only a second to slip on his boots and trousers, and was coming after them full speed. In one hand he carried a revolver, in the other Horatio's violin.
"Shed 'em!" he shouted. "Shed them clothes or I'll shoot!"
"Shed 'em!" echoed Bo. "Shed 'em, Horatio!"
The bear slipped off the coat and flung it behind him.
"Shed 'em!" shouted the man again, and the waistcoat followed.
"I won't give up the hat, Bo!" panted Horatio.
"HOW DO I LOOK, BO?"
But Horatio was mistaken, for at that instant the world beneath his feet suddenly opened and he disappeared. Before the boy could check himself he plunged after the Bear and was struggling in the deep waters of a bayou that came to a level with the bank and was covered thickly and concealed by fallen leaves. Rising to the surface he found Horatio clinging to a fallen tree and the man, who had now overtaken them, holding out a limb, which the little boy gladly seized. The hat had been already rescued.
"Well, you're a nice pair!" said their captor. "To run away with a man's clothes and then go headlong into the bayou and get his hat all wet! I'm glad you didn't have that fiddle, or you'd a-ruined it. I've bin wantin' a good fiddle a long time, an' this here looks like a good one. Come out o' that, now, an' we'll take a walk up toward the jail. I happen to be constable of this here community."
Bo groaned as he was dragged to shore. He did not mind the wetting, for the weather was warm, but now they had lost the violin and would be taken to jail. Of course they would lose all their money. Perhaps Horatio would be killed. The Bear only blinked and shook himself when he had been also towed to the bank and had scrambled out.
"I hope you won't take us to jail, sir," said Bo. "My Bear was mischievous, but he didn't mean any harm, and I have a little money I'll give you if you'll return us the violin and let us go."
"You come along with me!" answered the man, sternly. "It'll take more money than you've got to pay your fine, an' as fer that chap, we don't want no bears roamin' loose aroun' here. March on ahead there, an' don't try none o' your tricks."
The constable cocked his revolver, and boy and Bear hurriedly started in the direction of the village that showed above the trees about a mile further on.
Bo was afraid to speak to their captor again, and as he never talked with Horatio except when they were alone, they marched along disconsolately and in silence. Now and then the man strummed on the violin and chuckled to himself.
"SHED THEM CLOTHES OR I'LL SHOOT!"
When they got to the village everybody came out to look at them. The man called out his story as they went along, and the people laughed and jeered. Heretofore the friends had entered Louisiana villages in triumph. Now, for the first time, they came dishonored and disgraced. Poor Horatio looked very downcast. He knew that he was to blame for it all.
When they got to the court room they found that the Justice of the Peace was away fishing, so they were lodged in jail for the night. It was only a little one room affair, with two small iron-barred windows, quite high from the ground. Boys climbed up and looked through these windows and threw stones and coal in at Horatio, who huddled in a corner. By and by the officer came with a plate of supper for Bo. He drove the boys away and left the friends together. There was no supper for the Bear, so the little boy divided with him.
"Bo," said Horatio, tearfully, "it was my fault. They'll let you go, and, and—I hope they'll give you my skin, Bo."
Then they went to sleep.
Early next morning there was a crowd around the jail. The Justice had returned and the people wanted to see the fun. The friends were hustled into court by the constable, the crowd stepping back to let Horatio pass. The justice was rather a young man and had a good-natured face, which made Bo more hopeful. But when they heard the constable make his charge against them, both lost heart. They were accused of stealing and damages and a lot of other things that they could not understand. The Justice listened and then turned to the prisoners.
"What have you to say for yourselves?" he asked, looking straight at Bo. At first the little boy tried to speak and could not. The court room was still—every one waiting to hear what he was about to say. All at once an idea came to him.
"Please, sir," he trembled, "if you will let my Bear have the violin we will plead our case together."
"What violin? What does the boy mean?" asked the Justice, turning to the constable.
"Oh, an ole fiddle they dropped when they took my clothes. I lef' it down 't the house this morning."
Bo's heart sank. It was their only chance. He was about to give up when suddenly there came another gleam of hope, though very faint. Wheeling quickly toward the sorrow stricken Bear he shouted:—
"Perform for them, Horatio! Perform!"
The words acted on Horatio like a shock of electricity. He straightened up with a snort that caused the crowd to fall back, knocking each other over like dominos. Then he made a bound into the open space and stood on his head. Then with a spring backward he landed on his feet, and waved a bow to the Justice! Another bound and he was walking on his hands and then, after another bow to the Court, he turned a series of somersaults so rapidly that he looked like a great wheel! When he landed on his feet this time, and bowed once more to the Court, the crowd broke out into a mighty cheer of applause.
"Order!" shouted the Justice. "Order!"
It grew still, and the little boy looked at the Court anxiously.
"Please, Your Honor," he said humbly, "that's our case."
"Case!" roared the Justice. "Well, I should say that was a case of fits and revolution."
At this the crowd cheered again until they were rapped to order by the Court.
"I sentence you," he said solemnly, and looking sternly at Horatio, "to sudden and disagreeable death!"
He paused, and Horatio staggered against Bo, who was very pale.
A CASE OF FITS AND REVOLUTION.
"To sudden death," continued the Court, "if I catch you running off and falling in the water with any more of my officer's clothes. And I now fine you, for the first offense, a performance on the common for the whole town! Court is adjourned! Show begins at once! Constable, bring that fiddle!"
With a wild shout the people poured outside. Many scrambled over each other to get near Bosephus and the wonderful Bear, and when the violin was brought and the show had begun every soul in the village was gathered on the common.
That night, when all was over, the little boy and the Bear were the guests of the Justice, who owned a fine plantation adjoining the village. During the evening he had a long talk with Bo, and seemed greatly impressed with the little boy's natural ability and shrewdness. When they parted next morning he said:—
"Remember, if you ever feel like giving up travel, come back here and I'll send you to school and college and make a man of you."
"I'll remember," said Bo, as they shook hands. A crowd had gathered to see the travellers off. The constable was among them, and as they disappeared around a bend in the road he waved and shouted with the rest.
"Bosephus," said Horatio gravely, "I hope you don't think of deserting me. Remember how many close places I have helped you out of. This last was a little the closest of all, Bosephus, and I shudder to think where you might have been today if it had not been for me."
"That's so," said the little boy solemnly. "I don't suppose they'd have even given me your skin, Ratio."