CHAPTER XXIII.
The other boys were very much interested in the story of the tramp, and so was Mr. Foster when he came home, but poor Annie was a good deal more troubled than pleased.
"Oh, mother," she exclaimed, "do you suppose I'll have to appear in court as a witness against him?"
"I hope not, dear. Perhaps your father can manage to prevent it."
It would not have been easy for even so good a lawyer as Mr. Foster, if Burgin himself had not saved them all trouble on that score. Long before the slow processes of country criminal justice could bring him to actual trial, so many misdeeds were brought home to him from here and there, that he gave the matter up and freely related not only the manner of the barn-burning, but his revengeful motive for it. He made his case so very clear that when, in due course of time, he was brought before a judge and jury, there was nothing left for him to do but to plead "guilty."
That was some months later, however, and just at that time the manner of his capture—for the story of the demijohn leaked out first of all—gave the village something new to talk about. It was as good as a temperance lecture in spite of old Jock's argument that:
"You see, boys, good liquor don't do no harm. That was real good apple-jack, an' it jist toled that chap across the bay and captured him without no manner of diffikilty."
There were plenty who could testify to a different kind of "capture."
One effect of the previous day's work, including his adventures as an ornamental cook, was that Dab Kinzer conceived himself bound to be thenceforth especially polite to Joe and Fuz. The remaining days of their visit would have been altogether too few for the various entertainments he laid out for them.
They were to catch all that was to be caught in the bay. They were to ride everywhere and see everything.
"They don't deserve it, Dab," said Ford; "but you're a real good fellow. Mother says so."
"Does she?" and Dab evidently felt a good deal better after that.
Dick Lee, when his friends found time to think of him, had almost disappeared. Some three days afterward, while all the rest were out in the "Jenny," having a good time with their hooks and lines, "Gloriana" made her appearance in Mrs. Kinzer's dining-room with a face that was darker than usual with motherly anxiety.
"Miss Kinzer, has you seed my Dick dis week?"
"No, he hasn't been here at all. Anything the matter with him?"
"Dat's de berry question. I doesn't know wot to make ob 'im."
"Why, is he studying too hard?"
"It aint jist de books. I isn't so much afeard ob dem, but it's all 'long ob dat 'cad'my. I wish you'd jist take a look at 'im, fust chance ye git."
"Does he look bad?"
"No, taint jist altogeder his looks. He's de bes' lookin' boy 'long shoah. But den de way he's goin' on to talk. 'T aint nateral. He use to talk fust rate."
"Can't he talk now?"
"Yes, Miss Kinzer, he kin talk, but den de way he gits out his words. Nebber seen sech a t'ing in all my born days. Takes him eber so long jist to say good-mornin'. An' den he don't say it like he used ter. I wish you'd jist take a good look at 'im."
Mrs. Kinzer promised, and gave her black friend such comfort as she could, but Dick Lee's tongue would never again be the free and easy thing it had been. Even at home and about his commonest "chores," he was all the while struggling with his pronunciation. If he succeeded as well with the rest of his "schooling," it was safe to say that it would not be thrown away upon him.
Gloriana went her way, and the next to intrude upon Mrs. Kinzer's special domain was her son-in-law himself, accompanied by his rosy bride.
"We've got a plan!"
"You? A plan? What about?"
"Dab and his friends."
"A party!" exclaimed Dab, when his mother unfolded Ham's plan to him. "Ham and Miranda give a party for us boys! Well, now, aren't they right down good! But, mother, we'll have to get it up mighty quick."
"I know, but that's easy enough with all the help we'll have. I'll take care of that."
"But, mother, what can we do? There's only a few know how to dance. I don't, for one."
"You must talk that over with Ford. Perhaps Annie and Frank can help you."
Great were the consultations and endless were the plans and propositions, till even Mrs. Kinzer found her temper getting a little worried over them.
"Miranda," she said, on the morning of the day, "all the invitations are sent now, and we must get rid of Dabney and the boys for a few hours."
"Send 'em for some greens to rig the parlor with," suggested Ham. "Let 'em take the ponies."
"Do you think the ponies are safe to drive just now?"
"Oh, Dab can handle 'em. They're a trifle skittish, that's all. They need a little exercise."
So they did, but it was to be doubted if the best way to secure it for them was to send them out in a light, two-seated wagon, with a load of five lively boys.
"Now, don't you let one of the other boys touch the reins," said Mrs. Kinzer.
Dab's promise to that effect was a hard one to keep, for Joe and Fuz almost tried to take the reins away from him before they had driven two miles from the house. He was firm, however, and they managed to reach the strip of woodland, some five miles inland, where they were to gather their load, without any disaster, but it was evident to Dab all the way, that his ponies were in unusually "high" condition. He took them out of the wagon while the rest began to gather their very liberal harvest of evergreens, and did not bring them near it again until all was ready for the start homeward.
"Now, boys," he said, "you get in. Joe and Ford and Fuz on the back seat to hold the greens. Frank, get up there, forward, while I hitch the ponies. These fellows are full of mischief."
Very full, certainly, nor did Dab Kinzer know exactly what the matter was, for a minute or so after he seized the reins and sprang up beside Frank Harley. Then, indeed, as the ponies reared and kicked and plunged, it seemed to him he saw something work out from under their collars and fall to the ground. An acorn-burr is just the thing to worry a restive horse, if put in such a place, but Joe and Fuz had hardly expected their "little joke" would be so very successful as it was.
The ponies were off now.
"Joe," shouted Fuz, "let's jump!"
"Don't let 'em, Ford," exclaimed Dab, giving his whole energies to the horses. "They'll break their necks if they do. Hold 'em in!"
Ford, who was in the middle, promptly seized an arm of each of his panic-stricken cousins, while Frank clambered over the seat to help him. They were all down on the the bottom now, serving as a weight to hold the branches, as the light wagon bounced and rattled along over the smooth, level road.
In vain Dab pulled and pulled at the ponies. Run they did, and all he could do was to keep them fairly in the road.
Bracing strongly back, with the reins wound around his tough hands, and with a look in his face that should have given courage even to the Hart boys, Dab strained at his task as bravely as he had stood at the tiller of the "Swallow" in the storm.
No such thing as stopping them.
And now, as they whirled along, even Dab's face paled a little.
"I must reach the bridge before he does. He's just stupid enough to keep right on."
And it was very stupid indeed for the driver of that one-horse "truck wagon" to try and reach the narrow little unrailed bridge first. It was an old, used-up sort of a bridge, at best.
Dab loosened the reins a little, but could not use his whip.
"Why can't he stop!"
It was a moment of breathless anxiety, but the wagoner kept stolidly on. There would be barely room to pass him on the road itself; none at all on the narrow bridge.
The ponies did it.
They seemed to put on an extra touch of speed, on their own account, just then.
There was a rattle, a faint crash, and then, as the wheels of the two vehicles almost grazed one another in passing, Ford shouted:
"The bridge is down!"
Such a narrow escape!
One of the rotten girders, never half strong enough, had given way under the sudden shock of the hind wheels and that truck wagon would have to find its path across the brook as best it could.
There were more wagons to pass as they plunged forward, and rough places in the road, for Dabney to look out for, but even Joe and Fuz were now getting confidence in their driver. Before long, too, the ponies themselves began to feel that they had had nearly enough of it. Then it was that Dab used his whip again, and the streets of the village were traversed at such a rate as to call for the disapprobation of all sober-minded people.
"Here we are, Ham, greens and all."
"Did they run far?" asked Ham, quietly.