GONE
In the middle of the room was a table Jimmy always ate his meals at, and
on that table was a big square piece of paper and there was a big
envelope on the floor. But there wasn’t any sign of Jimmy. Oh, boy,
didn’t I feel good on account of that.
Westy read the paper out loud and it was something about a convention of
the Grand Army, or something like that. It said how all the members of
some post or other were asked to go to Saratoga on account of that big
convention and it was addressed to “Comrade James Van Dorian.” Gee, I
felt awful sorry for him, sort of, because I knew how it was with him.
“He just couldn’t help it,” Westy said, “he got ready in a hurry and
went. I guess he took all the money he had saved up—poor old Jimmy.”
“He’ll lose his job, that’s sure,” I said.
Even while we were standing there I could kind of see him getting
dressed up in a hurry in that old blue coat he had, with the buttons all
falling off it, and starting off with his crutch. Maybe he just got his
pension money, hey?
All the while the whistle on the tug was blowing and I was afraid people
would come around and maybe they’d all be on the side of the tugboat man
and be mad at Uncle Jimmy.
Jiminy, I wasn’t mad at him, anyway.
And I could hear that old man shouting about all the things he was going
to do and about the bridgeman deserting and leaving him in the mud.
“Hurry up,” Westy said, “let’s find the key-bar and we’ll open it for
him; we can do it all right.”
So we looked all around in a hurry, but we couldn’t find it anywhere.
The key-bar is what you open the bridge with, you know. It’s kind of
like a crow-bar and you stick it in a certain place and walk around
pushing it. It isn’t so hard when you get started on account of the
bridge being balanced right and it’s geared up, too. But what’s the use
if you can’t find the key-bar?
“It must be somewheres around,” Westy said, all excited.
Oh, didn’t we turn things inside out! But it wasn’t any use—we couldn’t
find it.
“Don’t let’s bother,” I said, “I’ve got an idea; come ahead—quick!”
I didn’t even stop to tell him what I was thinking about, but I hustled
back into the boat, with Pee-wee after us, wanting to know what we found
inside.
“A couple of mysteries,” I panted out.
“How many?” he wanted to know.
“And a couple of ghosts thrown in,” I said. “Hurry up.”
On the way across I told the fellows to please let me talk to the old
man, because I had something particular to say to him. I was panting and
rowing so hard, that I couldn’t tell the fellows then. Anyway, I guess
Pee-wee had that house haunted and filled with German spies and Uncle
Jimmy murdered and goodness knows what all.
We pulled up right alongside the tug-boat and I called out to the old
man that I wanted to tell him something and to please let me come up. I
was all trembling, but anyway, I said it right out and I didn’t wait for
him to say yes, because he was too busy saying other things to say it.
Westy and Pee-wee stayed in the rowboat and I went right up into the
little house where the old man was. Oh, boy, wasn’t everything polished
all nice and shiny! Gee, it was nice up in there. The wheel looked
awfully big and the compass, you could just see your face in it. And it
smelled kind of oily and nice up there. Wouldn’t I like to live in a
place like that!
The old man was smoking a pipe and he blew out a lot of smoke—it was
kind of like a barrage. Then he said very stern and gruff,
“Well, sir?”
Oh, boy, wasn’t I shaky! But I started right in, and when you once get
started it’s easy, that’s one sure thing.
I said, “Maybe you’ll only be more mad when I tell you but I heard you
say something about Uncle Jimmy _deserting_. Twice you said that. And I
thought maybe you might be a veteran, hey? Maybe that’s a crazy thing to
think, hey?”
All he said was, “Well, sir,” and he blew a lot of tobacco smoke at me
and looked at me with a frown, all fierce, but I wasn’t scared.
“I only kind of deduced that,” I said, “and anyway I’ve got to admit
you’ve got reason to be mad.”
Even still, all he said was, “Well, sir,” and he held his pipe so I
thought maybe he was going to chuck it at me—good night!
“Anyway, if you _were_ a soldier, maybe you’ll understand, that’s all.
Uncle Jimmy, that’s what we call him, he went away to the Grand Army
Convention—that’s where he went. I’m not saying he had a right to go,
but one thing, big boats like yours never come up this way, so the
bridge doesn’t have to be opened very often—sometimes not all summer.
It’s kind of just bad luck for him, that’s all. But, one thing sure, I
know how it is to be away when I ought not to be, I do. And I’m no
better than he is, that’s one sure thing. I’m a boy scout,” I told him,
“and my scoutmaster says you have no right to make bargains about things
that are wrong. But anyway, maybe you wouldn’t think this would be
trying to make a bargain with you and sticking up for somebody that did
wrong. So I thought I’d ask you if you’ll please promise not to write to
the government people, and I’ll promise you to open the bridge for you
in ten minutes. He’s lame, Uncle Jimmy is, and he got that way in some
battle, and he has to use a crutch. And that’s the reason they gave him
a job. I see your tug is named _General U. S. Grant_, and maybe he was
fighting with General Grant, hey? You can’t tell.
“We can’t find the key-bar, but about a month ago, the old key-bar fell
in the river, and I know where it is. Maybe you think I’m crazy, but
I’ll dive and get it for you, if you’ll only promise not to tell on
Uncle Jimmy, because he couldn’t help going. Maybe you don’t understand,
but he _just couldn’t_. I’ve got the swimming badge and that’s for
diving too. All you have to do is to give me some rope, so I can take
one end of it down and then you can haul it up and the key-bar will be
tied to it. You can be dead sure. Because what a fellow has to do, he
can do. Only you have to make me the promise first ’cause that’ll help
me to do it.”