The first time old Deacon Gibson, a local preacher, had been hiving a swarm of bees when Nicodemus arrived on the scene. Nicodemus had failed to assist in hiving that swarm. Worse than that, he had butted the unfortunate parson into three beehives and released three other swarms upon him.
On his second escape, Nicodemus had boldly entered the log school house while school was in session. The teacher had climbed on top of the table. Since there were only holes where windows should have been, the children swarmed through the window holes leaving Nicodemus with the situation well in hand. Since it was a warm day and Nicodemus was tired, he had fallen asleep beneath the table. Needless to say there had been no more school that day.
Johnny laughed aloud as he recalled these stories of the Colonel’s prize ram. But now his eyes were glued upon the high walled pen in which Nicodemus was confined. Some living creature beside Nicodemus had entered that pen. He and Nicodemus were having it out. Was Nicodemus chasing the intruder about or was the wary old ram at last on the run?
“Might be that bear we saw yesterday,” Johnny told himself. “I—I’ve just got to see.”
Johnny knew the Colonel and liked him. A big, bluff, red-cheeked, jovial southern gentleman, he was the idol of every boy who came to know him. Nicodemus, despite all his reputation for breaking up beehives and dismissing schools, was a valuable ram. If anything seriously threatened his safety, the Colonel should know of it. Besides, there was a chance, a bare chance, that Johnny, through this little adventure, might become better acquainted with the Colonel’s daughter, Jensie.
Soon enough Johnny discovered that Nicodemus was not in the slightest bit of danger, unless, like many an aged and crusty human being, he was in danger of bursting a blood vessel because of unsatisfied rage.
As Johnny climbed the high board fence, to peer with some misgiving into Nicodemus’ pen, he barely held back a gasp.
“Of all things!” he muttered. Then, having lifted himself to a secure position atop a post, he sat there, mouth open, eyes staring, witnessing a strange performance.
There were indeed two living creatures in that pen. One was the invincible Nicodemus. The other, instead of being a bear, was a boy, the fleetest footed boy Johnny had ever seen.
Johnny wanted to laugh. He longed to shout. He did neither, for this would have broken up the show. “And that,” he told himself, “would be a burning shame.”