“Oh—that’s all right,” I said, feeling disappointed and relieved at the same time. “I hope it’s nothing serious?”
“No ... I guess not....” Eddie answered, not mentioning who was sick. “It’s only serious for the time being.”
Well,—here was a nice howdy do! After leaving Eddie I stopped outside his house, wondering what move to make next. The fellows would be expecting me to show up with him any minute now. I’d better go down and tell the boys it was all off ... and explain just why so’s I wouldn’t get the blame for not going through with my part in the proceedings.
Obadiah Erasmus Tucker lived the second house from the corner off the intersection of James and Adams streets, just a block from the school. Of course it had to be my luck to run into him as I passed the house. He was on his way down to the Chamber of Commerce to attend a civic meeting that he wanted to write up for a civics lesson.
“Why, good evening, Ralph!” Obadiah said to me. He had an old way about him that made you feel like he was doing you a favor to speak to you. “Snappy weather, eh what?”
“Yes,—pretty lively,” I replied, feeling uneasy as Obadiah hit it off alongside me. I was thinking of his running into the fellows at the trough and that he’d know right away we were up to some devilment and have us called on the carpet the next day or report us to the principal.
I shifted over to the side nearest the trough so I could give the fellows the high sign at the first opportunity but when we got up close there wasn’t a one in sight and I began to think they’d gotten wise and skidooed when all of a sudden there was a noise like the radio report of the democratic convention ... only worse ... and black forms swooped around from the street side of the trough and from behind every nearby tree.
For a second I couldn’t figure out what it was all about ... until I heard Obadiah give a yell ... and the next thing I knew there was a flock of arms hoisting him in the air ... and before I could shout or do a thing ... Plop! he went, right into the middle of the watering trough!
There was the grandest splashing and sputtering you ever heard for the next few seconds. The air seemed full of Obadiah’s arms and legs. He kicked hard enough to send him most half way across the English channel but he couldn’t make any headway in the watering trough except down.
Every time Obadiah’s head came to the top, Pete Dean, who was standing on the steps, shoved it under again, yelling, “Souse him good, fellows! He needs it!”