IV.
It was now after eleven o'clock, and it would soon be time for the truants to return home.
The hut which they had built was not very tight, but it kept the sun out; and the boys were so well pleased with it that they agreed to come there again in the afternoon. They wished the forenoon had been much longer, for their fun came to an end too soon.
"Now, boys, we will have a smoke," said Joe, as they seated themselves in the house.
"Yes; and we haven't any too much time," replied Ben Tinker, as he took the cigars from his pocket.
"Have you any matches?"
"To be sure I have. What's the use of cigars without any matches? Take a cigar, Tom."
Tommy took the cigar, and though he had some doubts about smoking it, he did not like to be behind his companions in anything. He thought it would make him sick, as he had known it to do to others. He did not want to smoke it, but he had not the courage to refuse.
He was proud, and did not want to have the other boys any smarter than he was. They thought it was manly and big to smoke, for I don't believe either of them could have liked the fumes of a cigar. They had not smoked enough for this.
Ben lighted a match, and then his cigar. Joe, as dignified as any old smoker, took a light from him; and both of them puffed away, and felt as big as though they were doing some great thing.
"Have a light, Tommy?" asked Ben. "If you are going with us, you must learn to smoke."
"All the fellers that are anything smoke," added Joe.
"Then I'll smoke," replied Tommy. "I used to see lots of gentlemen smoking cigars in Broadway, in New York, when I was there."
"Of course you did."
Tommy put the cigar into his mouth; he did not like the taste of the thing, but he felt that it was a good cause, and he was willing to be a martyr. Ben lent him his cigar to light it by; and with a little instruction from his friends, he was soon able to puff away as smart as any of them.
It was not half so bad as he had feared it would be. It did not make him sick, at first, and he thought he was one of that kind who can smoke without learning.
He felt as big as his companions then, for the wrong idea that smoking was smart had taken full possession of him.
There are some savages who paint their faces—they think it is smart; we don't think so. Some Indians wear bits of tin fastened to the ends of their noses—they think it looks pretty; we don't think so.
It does not follow, therefore, that every thing that looks smart is so. A little boy, or any boy, with a cigar in his mouth, is a disgusting sight to sensible people. We never heard of any man who thought it was smart for boys to smoke, or to make use of tobacco in any way.
"Now, Tom, tell us something about New York while we are smoking," said Ben.
"Well, I will, if you wish me to do so; but I have got almost tired of talking about New York. Everybody wants to know what I saw there."
"Yes; I don't like to say no to them, for I am willing to help along those who don't know as much as I do."
"Do you mean to say we don't know as much as you do?" demanded Ben, angrily.
"Well, you haven't been to New York—have you?"
"What if we haven't?"
"Then, of course, you can't know so much as I do. I was there a week."
"If you say that again, I'll pound you," said Ben, rising.
"There's a stump for you, Tom," added Joe.
Tommy had not a great deal of courage; but, in a little while, Joe Birch managed to get up a fight between his little companions. He showed Tommy how to strike; and the two boys went into the matter like real bruisers.
Of course, Tommy Woggs got whipped—and it served him just right. His face was scratched, and one of his eyes was very red. Just then he thought he should not tell another boy that he did not know as much as he did.
The quarrel was soon made up; for after Ben Tinker had thrashed the little boaster he was satisfied, and Tommy did not dare to be cross. By this time they had to start for home.
Tommy had not got half way to his father's house before he began to feel dizzy, and to realize a very unpleasant feeling at the stomach. But he hurried home as fast as he could, which was not very fast, for he was sick in earnest now.
He staggered into the parlor, where his mother was sewing. He felt very bad then, and wished, with all his heart, that he had gone to school, and kept away from the bad boys.
"I feel sick, mother," said Tommy, as he threw himself into a chair.
"Why, Tommy! You are as pale as a ghost," exclaimed his mother, looking up from her work. "What ails you?"
"I feel sick at the stomach. I want to go to bed."
Whatever were the doubts Mrs. Woggs had in the morning about her son's sickness, she had none now. His pale face and blue lips were evidences of his condition.
Taking him by the hand, she led him upstairs, and put him into bed. Then she called Dr. Woggs, who was in his library, to come upstairs and see him.
"Poor boy; he is real sick," said his mother, as the doctor entered the room. "He is just as pale as death, and could hardly walk upstairs."
"He is sick at the stomach, just as he was this morning. It was too bad to send him to school when he felt so sick. I knew he was ill then."
"He wasn't very bad this morning," said the doctor, who did not know what to make of it.
"He was real sick then, and I knew he was. It was too bad to make him go to school," added the fond mother.
"But I didn't make him go to school," replied Dr. Woggs. "I was only going to give him some medicine to make him better."
The cigar had done its work; and it operated upon him just as that nasty yellow powder would if he had taken it.
"What's this?" said the doctor, after the contents of Tommy's stomach had been thrown up. "What have you been doing, Tommy?"
"Nothing, father," replied Tommy, faintly.
"You have been smoking. You smell as strong of tobacco smoke as a bar-room loafer."
"Smoking!" exclaimed Mrs. Woggs, with horror.
"Have you been smoking, Tommy?" asked his father sternly.
The poor sufferer felt so bad, he had no courage to tell a lie, and he was obliged to own that he had been smoking.
When he felt a little better, his father questioned him so closely, that in spite of his promise, Tommy had to say he had "hooked jack" that forenoon, and that he had been in the woods with Joe and Ben, where each of them had smoked a cigar.
Dr. Woggs went to the school that afternoon, and told Miss Dale all about it; and then to the parents of Joe and Ben, and told them all about it. The truants were all punished; and as the schoolmistress promised to send word to their homes when either of them was absent again, they had no chance to "hook jack" afterwards.
Tommy was as well as ever the next day; but that red eye became a black eye, and the children laughed at him for a week.
He thought how much trouble he had caused himself by being proud and lazy, and he resolved to be a better boy. He did very well for some time; he went to school without complaining, and didn't talk big; but he was not entirely cured.
It often takes a great while to get rid of bad habits; but we should banish them, even if it takes a whole lifetime to do so.