“And the tree got in the way,” said Mrs. Meadows, nodding her head. “Do you have any idea how much it would cost to replace that tree?”
“How much?” asked Jim hoping that it would be some such sum as three or four dollars. He would then offer to pay for a new tree and settle the matter. After all, it couldn’t be much, as there were evergreens all over the hills.
“About twenty-five dollars; that’s a golden cypress.”
Jim’s heart sank. He couldn’t afford such a sum as that, so instead of being able to offer casually to replace the damage he was forced to mumble, “I’m sorry.”
“That doesn’t replace the tree,” said his mother sternly. “From now on there will be no more roping around here. I want you to take a book over to Mrs. Alsop. When you come back you can go down and help your father in the garden. Perhaps if you are kept busy enough you won’t be into any mischief.”
Feeling very contrite, Jim took the book and went riding off to the Alsop’s. He completed his errand and turned back toward home. His spirits began to rise on the way back. His mother didn’t harbor a grudge long and luckily his father hadn’t witnessed the incident. He would rush down to the garden as soon as he returned and work like mad to correct the bad impression he had made.
Mr. Meadows was busy in the garden picking watermelons. They had an exceptionally large patch that year, and melons were bringing high prices in Springdale. He carefully picked the largest and ripest and stacked them near the fence. He rapidly collected a huge pile, all he could possibly haul to town in one trip of the car. He had just about completed his selection of all the ripe melons when Jim came tearing down the lane.
Most of the fences were barbed wire around the farm and too dangerous, in Jim’s opinion, to jump unless there were some vital reason. However, the garden was bordered by a relatively low board fence. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to ride Ticktock directly to the garden and thus show how anxious he was to help his father.
Unable to see what was on the other side, Jim came sailing grandly over the fence. It was a beautiful jump with a very inglorious landing. Ticktock came down squarely on the center of the pile of watermelons. Fortunately the mustang recovered his balance and didn’t break a leg. As it was, the result was bad enough. Broken watermelons were scattered far and wide, the luscious juice dripping over the ground.
“You wild Indian!” shouted Mr. Meadows. “Look what you’ve done!”