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Bob the Castaway

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<h2 id="id00097" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER II</h2> <h5 id="id00098">ANOTHER PRANK</h5> "Drat that boy!" cried Mr. Hodge. "I'll make him suffer fer this. I'll have him arrested fer malicious mischief, an' I'll sue his father. I'll see if I can't put a stop to sech nonsense." He did not waste time in words, however, but hastened to shut the spigot of the molasses barrel to stop the wasteful flow. However, two gallons or more had run all over, the floor, making a sticky pool. Meanwhile Bob had crawled out from under the stoop and had crossed the street to Join Ted. "Did you see anything?" he asked. "Did I?" asked Ted. "Well, I should say I did. It was great. How'd ye think of it?" "Did I do anything?" asked Bob innocently. "I thought Bill Hodge stubbed his toe and fell. Probably he slipped in some molasses." "Did you pull the spigot open?" "Me? No, I didn't, but maybe the string did. I guess I've got to hurry home with this lard. Mom wants to make some pies." Bob got home much sooner than his mother expected he would. He gave her the lard, and then went out under the apple tree where he had left the paper snappers. "He's back quick," mused Mrs. Henderson. "I don't see how he had time to do any mischief. Perhaps he didn't play any tricks on any one this time," for Bob seldom went through the village but what he did so. However, Mrs. Henderson was mistaken, as we know. During this time Mr. Hodge was busy wiping as much of the molasses off the floor as he could with old cloths and pieces of newspaper. While he was doing this a customer came in and inquired: "What's the matter? Molasses barrel spring a leak, Bill?" "Leak? No, it was that pesky Bob Henderson. Wait till I git hold of him! I'll make him smart. An' I'm goin' to sue his father." "What did he do? Why, Bill, you walk lame. What's the matter, got rheumatiz?" "It's all on account of Bob." "What did he do?" "Came here for some lard. When I was down cellar gittin' it he tied a string to the molasses barrel spigot and stretched it across the doorway." "What, the spigot?" "No, the string. Ye know what I mean. Then he went out on the stoop an' yelled like sin. I thought somebody was killed an' I run out. I tripped over the string an' it pulled the spigot open. I barked my shins, an' when I looked in the store, after seein' nobody was hurt, the molasses was runnin' all over. Oh, wait till I git hold of that pesky boy!" "I s'pose if you hadn't been so curious to see who was killed it wouldn't have happened," observed Adiran Meelik. "Curious! Ain't I got a right to run an' see who's killed in front of my store?" "I s'pose so. But there wasn't anybody killed; only you came near being." "That's so. I'll bring an action against Bob Henderson's father for damages for personal injuries, that's what I'll do. Then there's the wasted molasses." "That boy plays too many tricks," observed Mr. Meelik as he took the brown sugar he had come in to purchase and walked out. "Altogether too many tricks. Still," he added with a smile, "I would like to have seen Bill stumble and watched his face when he seen that molasses runnin' to waste." The storekeeper lost no time in putting his plan into action. But as he was a cautious man, and did not want to waste money hiring a lawyer to bring suit if he could collect damages without doing so, he decided to call on Mr. Henderson himself. A short time after Mr. Hodge had succeeded in cleaning up as much of the molasses as possible his wife came in to relieve him of tending the store, as was her custom. She had had an early supper, and was to remain in the place until Mr. Hodge had also satisfied his appetite. By this arrangement there was no need of hiring a clerk. They lived in some rooms over the store. "Your supper's ready, William," she said. "I guess supper'll have to wait to-night." "Why?" "'Cause I'm goin' to see if I can't collect damages from Enos Henderson fer what his son done." "What's that?" Mr. Hodge explained, and his wife agreed with him that it would be wise first to try what a personal demand would do. It was about six o'clock when Mr. Hodge reached the Henderson home. Mr. Henderson stopped work at five, and he was at supper when the storekeeper entered. Bob knew the object of the visit, and, making an excuse that he wanted to see one of his boy chums, was about to leave the table. "My business is with him, too," said Mr. Hodge in rather surly tones. "With Bob?" asked Mr. Henderson, and his heart sank. He realized that his son must have been up to some prank in which the storekeeper was involved, for Mr. Hodge was not a person to pay friendly calls. "Yes. I've come t' see if ye'll settle my claim fer damages without a lawsuit." "A lawsuit?" inquired Mr. Henderson, now becoming quite alarmed, while Bob's mother grew pale. Bob himself, not a little frightened as the result of his joke, sank down in a chair. "I want damages fer personal injuries, as well as fer five gallons of molasses that run to waste." "It couldn't have been more than three gallons," interrupted Bob. "Molasses runs awful slow, and the spigot wasn't open more than three minutes." "It runs fast in hot weather," observed the storekeeper. "What is it all about?" asked Mr. Henderson. Then Mr. Hodge explained, dwelling on the pain he had suffered as a result of the fall from the string that tripped him and on the loss of the molasses. "I want ten dollars damage," he concluded. "A dollar fer the molasses an' the rest fer personal injuries." "I am afraid I cannot afford to pay so much," said Mr. Henderson, who, while he made good wages, was trying to save up enough to pay for his home. "Then I'll sue ye." "I would not like you to do that, but I cannot afford to pay ten dollars—at least not now. I have some interest to meet this week." "Well, maybe I might take a little less," said Mr. Hodge, as he saw a prospect of Bob's father coming to a settlement. "I'll make it eight dollars, an' ye can pay me in installments." "I suppose that will be fair," admitted Mr. Henderson. He spoke very quietly, but he was much exercised over what had happened. "Can ye pay me anythin' now?" asked Mr. Hodge eagerly, rubbing his shins, which, to tell the truth, were only slightly bruised and did not hurt him in the least now. "I could give you two dollars. But first I want to ask Bob if he is responsible for this." To his sorrow Mr. Henderson did not have much doubt of it. "Oh, I guess he won't deny it," said the storekeeper. "Did you do this, Bob?" inquired his father. "I—I guess so, but I didn't mean anything." Bob was not so happy over his prank as he had been at first. Mr. Henderson said nothing. He took two dollars from his wallet—a wallet that did not have any too much money in it—and handed the bills to the storekeeper, who eagerly pocketed them. "When kin ye give me some more?" he asked. "Next week. I am sorry, Mr. Hodge, that my son did this." "So am I. But I s'pose boys will be boys." Mr. Hodge seemed in better mood. The truth was, he had not expected to receive any money, and as he was a sort of miser, it made him feel better to think he was going to get damages without having to pay a lawyer. In reality, not more than fifty cents' worth of molasses had run to waste. When the storekeeper had left Mr. Henderson further questioned Bob, getting all the particulars of the trick. "I'm sorry, dad," said Bob when he had finished his recital. "That is what you say every time, my son. You said it after you frightened Mrs. Anderson's cow and they had to have the veterinarian for the animal, but that did not pay his bill. I had to settle for it." "I know, dad. I'll not do it again." "And that's another thing you always say, Bob. Now this is getting serious. You must mend your ways. This will be quite a heavy expense to me. I was going to spend that two dollars for a new pair of shoes. Now I will have to wait." "I'm sorry, dad." "But that doesn't give me my shoes." Mr. Henderson spoke gravely, and Bob felt quite badly over what he had done, for he loved his father and mother very much, and would not intentionally pain them. The trouble was he was, like many other boys, thoughtless. He did not count the consequences when indulging in pranks. A little later, after giving his son quite a severe lecture, and obtaining his promise to be better in the future, Mr. Henderson prepared to go to bed. Bob also retired to his room, for he felt in no mood to go out with the village boys that night. "I'm sure I don't know what to do with Bob," said Mrs. Henderson to her husband when she was locking up the house. "I'm afraid he'll get into serious trouble." "I hope not. I think I must punish him severely the next time he plays any tricks." "He is too big to whip." "I know it. I must think of some other method." Bob fell asleep, resolving to mend his ways, or at least to play in the future only harmless tricks to which no one would object. But in the morning his good resolutions had lost some of their power, like many others made during the night. That day in school Bob snapped several of the paper crackers, and in consequence was kept in. However, his mother was visiting a neighbor, and when he came home late that afternoon she did not see him. That evening Ted Neefus called for Bob. They were chums of long standing. "Let's take a walk," suggested Ted. "Aw, that's no fun." "What'll we do then?" Bob thought a few seconds. "I'll tell you," he said. "We'll put a tic-tac on Mrs. Mooney's window. She lives all alone, and she'll think it's a ghost rapping." "Good! Come on. Have you got some string?" "Sure." So you see how poorly Bob remembered his promise of the night before, and with what thoughtlessness he again started to indulge in a prank—a prank which might throw a nervous woman into hysterics. Yet in this Bob was just like thousands of other boys—he "didn't mean anything." The trouble was he did not think. So the two boys, their heads full of the project of making a tic-tac, stole quietly through the village streets toward the cottage of the Widow Mooney. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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