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Pony Rider Boys in New England

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<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> <h3>LOOK WHO'S HERE</h3> By this time Jed Whitman had been to the camp and taken away Stacy's pony. Before leaving the village, Professor Zepplin, without going into details, had written to Banker Perkins that they found themselves unexpectedly short of funds, and urging that the next remittance be speeded eastward. "My pony gone!" wailed Stacy, upon discovering his loss. "Oh, why didn't one of you other fellows save me by giving up your pony instead? I can't walk." "Cheer up," laughed Tad. "The worst is yet to come for you, Chunky. Do you realize that we haven't a penny left, and that we've no credit in this town? We can't eat until Mr. Perkins' remittance arrives—after a few days." "Can't eat?" gasped Stacy, his face paling a little. "I won't stand that." "Hurrah!" cheered Ned Rector. "Chunky is going to save us! He's going to find food for us. We shall eat—right away!" "Now, you fellows know I can't do anything," uttered young Brown reproachfully. "But some of you ought to have the brains to find a way to get food." Tad and Ned whispered apart, then announced that they were going to the village. "Bring back half a dozen big steaks," Stacy called after them. Tad and Ned trudged on into town. There they found an opportunity to saw and split a large pile of wood for fifty cents. That was a fearfully close bargain, as they knew very well, but the Pony Rider Boys needed food, and so did their companions. They took the job, spent perspiring hours over it, then collected their money, and invested it in a fairly large piece of bacon, to the delight of Stacy Brown and the keen satisfaction of the Professor. "We have a big job tomorrow for which we are going to get a dollar and a half," announced Tad. "Stacy will have to go along and help." "What doing?" demanded the fat boy. "Cutting wood." "No, sir! You forget that I have a weak heart. I might drop dead," objected the fat boy. "Then we shouldn't have to pay the costs for you again. Professor, don't you think it would be bad for Stacy's weak heart if he were to fill up on this bacon?" asked Tad. "Wha—what? Don't I get any supper?" cried the boy. "You most certainly do not. If you are too weak in your heart to help cut up a little wood you are too weak to eat. That's flat. Go to bed," urged Tad. "I—I'll work. I'll cut the wood, but if I die it will be your fault. I don't care much what becomes of me now. I want my supper." "Professor, with your permission, we will give him a small slice of bacon," said Tad. "If it has no bad effect on him, we will give him another, a very thin slice, just before he turns in for the night." The Professor gave permission gravely. The supper was cooked, and it did smell good to those hungry boys as they sat down to their scanty meal. Tad, with great care, chose the thinnest slice on the platter, which he handed to Chunky. "Now bite off just a nibble at a time and chew it slowly," cautioned Tad. "I won't. I'll swallow it whole." Ned snatched the bacon from Stacy, whereat the fat boy sprang up and squared off for trouble. "Sit down, young man!" commanded the Professor. "No unseemly conduct." "If you will agree to eat as you should, you may have the bacon," said Tad. Stacy was now in a frame of mind to agree to anything, if by so doing he could get something to eat. They warned him to take forty chews on every mouthful, under penalty of having the bacon taken away from him if he failed to do as he was ordered. Stacy chewed dolefully, rolling his eyes from one to another of them during the chewing. He never had realized how far a thin slice of bacon would go if properly chewed. Stacy was ready for more after having made away with this piece, but the boys were firm. He could have no more until bedtime, when he would get a cold slice if he were still alive. In the morning the fat boy got two slices of bacon, but was obliged to chew them in the same way as before. These two slices with a cup of coffee made up his breakfast. When they were ready to start for work, Stacy required some urging and a little force to him to go along. Walter Perkins insisted on accompanying them and doing his share of the work. Something like an hour later four boys might have been observed in a vacant lot in the village hard at work. Walter Perkins and Chunky Brown were using a crosscut saw, while Tad and Ned were wielding axes, making the sticks fairly fly from the sharp blades. A few hours later a horseman came riding slowly down the street. As he drew nearer he brushed a hand across his eyes, looked, then shading his eyes looked again. "Great Smoke! What does this mean?" he exclaimed, gazing at the busy workers with wondering eyes. Clucking to his horse he jogged along, but the boys did not see him, so busy were they at their work, until he had ridden over into the lot and was almost upon them. "Mr. Vaughn!" cried Walter. "Hurrah!" shouted Ned Rector. "Here's the guide come back. I never was so glad to see anyone in my life." Tad, at the first call, looked; then, dropping his axe, he ran to the guide and grasped his hand, while two boys were tugging at the other hand on the opposite side of the horse. "How is your foot?" asked Ned. "It is better." "Why did you come here? You didn't hope to find us in this place, did you!" questioned Tad shrewdly. "To tell the truth, I did," answered Cale. "Then you heard?" "I heard last night that they had Mr. Stacy in limbo for killing that moose, so I started out right away. I rode most of the night from my home and I'm here. How did you get off?" "Stacy was fined one hundred dollars and costs, Mr. Vaughn. The costs amounted to twenty-eight dollars and a half. What do you think of that?" "What does this mean?" demanded Cale when the two were out of range of the others. "Oh, we are filling in a little time," answered Tad carelessly. "You are sure that is all?" "All I care to speak about." "Where shall I find Professor Zepplin?" "He is at the camp. You go down this street till you come to the hotel. There you turn to the left and go to the end of the road. The camp is straight ahead from that." "I reckon you had better go with me." "I can't do that. You see I have agreed to do this job here," replied the freckle-faced boy, flushing under the keen gaze of the guide. "So that's the trouble, is it?" "I don't know what you mean, sir?" "Yes you do. You know it took all the money you folks had to settle that fine, and that you are trying to earn some money to keep you going till you hear from home." "Stacy's pony is in pawn for twenty-eight dollars and fifty cents. Jed Whitman is holding it for costs and to save Chunky from going to the Bangor jail." "Why didn't you say so before?" Cale demanded. "I want you to come with me at once." Tad demurred, but the guide insisted. Vaughn rode straight down the street until he came to the bank, where Tad assisted him to dismount. Rather to Tad's amazement Cale entered the bank, and greeted the cashier cordially. "Joe, I want some money." "All right, Cale. How much?" "I reckon about two hundred will do me today." "Sure thing. How long do you want it for?" "Till I come this way again. Maybe a week, maybe a month. Make out the note for thirty days. I shall probably pay it before that." "That is an easy way to get money," gasped Tad. "For some folks. Here, take this and get your pony out of pawn, settle your bills and get ready to move. I see I've got to go along with you boys. I should never have left you, broken bones or no broken bones. Go on now and fix that matter up. Not a word. You may pay me back when you get your remittance." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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