"He won't catch me to-day, I bet," says Harry. "Rule Britannia, and Rowell forever!" and off he goes.
Down went the strawberries and shoes under the tree.
"Hail, Columbia! and Yankee Doodle! and Fourth of July!" I yelled, and away I go after him, and all the rest after me.
Over Snow's fence vaults Harry, and over it the hounds vault too. Through the apple orchard, down to the bean patch, in and out among the bean poles, behind the barn, over a pile of empty flower-pots—and such a smash!—until the other end of the farm was reached, where there was a stone wall, but some of the stones had fallen in one place near the ground, and left quite a big hole. The hare flattened himself as flat as a pancake, and was on the other side in a jiffy. And I flattened myself, wondering why the other fellows had stopped a-hollering behind me, and I was half-way under, when somebody grabbed me by the heels and jerked me out again, and in another minute I was standing before Michael Snow and Professor Weston. All of a sudden—it had gone clean out of my head until then—I remembered I had promised the Professor.
"Upon my word and honor, sir," said I, looking straight into his eyes—he's got awful nice eyes, only kind of stern sometimes, and this was one of the times—with a cold shiver running down my back, "I forgot. They were just starting as I came along, and Harry Hunter hurrahed for 'Britannia and Rowell,' and I hurrahed for 'Hail, Columbia.'"
"And 'Yankee Doodle, and Fourth of July,'" says Snow, with a grin, and the Professor's eyes began to twinkle.
"You needn't say any more, Morningstar," says he, "for I know when one of my boys gives his word of honor he is telling nothing but the truth. But your memory must have a lesson. It needs cultivating. Go back to the school-room. I will arrange matters with Mr. Snow, and be there in half an hour."
Back I went, feeling bad enough, to the tree where I'd left the berries and shoes. Jerry O'Neill was sprawling on the grass—he's the fellow that eats everything he can get hold of, you know—and he handed me the empty basket. "I ate 'em," says he; "I thought they was yours, and you wouldn't mind." The shoes were gone. "I guess a tramp I met took 'em," says Jerry. "He had a bundle sticking out of one of his coat pockets."
When the Professor came in he told the boys himself what I had promised to tell them, and then he said: "I'm sorry to punish Morningstar, but, as I told him a short time ago, his memory needs a lesson. And so I shall be obliged to ask him to go every play-hour to Michael Snow's grounds and give him his services, until such time as Snow shall consider himself repaid for the damage done to-day."
"Oh, I say now, that won't do at all," blurts out Harry Hunter, turning very red, "I beg pardon, sir, but what I'd like to say is this: Morningstar forgot his promise in his wish to uphold the honor of his country, sir—"