“I don’t. I ain’t teched a drop in six months.”
“Well, you had better do something for yourself,” said Tom, as he backed away from the ticket window.
“I don’t understand this, nohow!” muttered the old station master. “But I ain’t goin’ to smoke thet cigar no more!” he added, and threw the weed out on the railroad tracks.
When Tom got to the wagon he was shaking with laughter. The joke was too good to keep, and as they drove along he told Jack Ness about what had occurred.
“It’s one on Ricks,” said the hired man, with a broad grin. “He’s kind o’ a superstitious man an’ he’ll imagine all sorts o’ things!”
“Well, if it cures him of smoking it will be a good job done,” answered Tom. “I’ve seen him with a pipe in his mouth when a lady wanted a railroad ticket, and he would blow the smoke right into her face.”
It made Randolph Rover somewhat nervous to have so many fireworks and so much powder around the premises—and there was a good reason for this, for the facilities for fighting fire at Valley Brook were very meager. So, to please his uncle, Tom stored the stuff in a small building at the bottom of one of the fields, where some farming implements and berry crates and boxes were kept.
The cannon Tom had mentioned was a rather old affair. But it seemed to be in good condition and the boys spent some time in cleaning it out and putting it in condition for use. It was mounted on a big block and set in the middle of the lawn.
“Now, I reckon we are ready to celebrate!” cried Sam, after all the preparations were complete. “And we ought to have a dandy time.”
“We will have,” answered Dick.