"When the devil was well,
The devil a saint was he."
Jack sat, one evening, on a horse-block just outside the front gate,
contemplating the evening star and such of its companions as were
putting in their respective appearances. He was attired rather more
carefully than was considered necessary for a Doveton boy on any day
but Sunday, and his countenance was in keeping with his garb; while
his hair was brushed to a degree of smoothness almost dandyish.
Suddenly one-half of the Pinkshaw twins approached and asked Jack if
he didn't feel like going that night to a meeting to be held by the
German Methodists, who were holding a series of week-day evening
services.
"I can't," said Jack. "We're expecting—expecting a visitor, and I must
stay home to meet him."
"That's too bad," said the half of the Pinkshaw twins, scraping the
dust into a heap with his bare feet, "for they've got old Vater
Offenstein, all the way from New Munich, to do the exhorting, and they
expect a great time."
"They are real good people, those German Methodists are," said Jack,
"but you'll have to excuse me to-night. Get some other fellow to go
with you."
"I can't," explained young Pinkshaw. "Nearly all the boys are going to
a party at Billy Barker's sister's, but Billy and I don't speak since
he traded me a dog that was given to fits, so I'm not going."
Jack sympathized with the Pinkshaw twin in his loneliness; besides, he
did not know but some feeling stronger than mere curiosity was drawing
the boy toward the church; certainly he, Jack, would never have
divulged a religious feeling in any but a roundabout way. The church
was but a five minutes' walk, and he could excuse himself and come
away after the Pinkshaw twin became fairly interested. So he
accompanied the boy, their direction being toward the sound of some
very spirited singing, which could be distinctly heard above all other
evening sounds. Arrived at the little church, Jack found that his
companion would not have lacked congenial society even had he come
alone, for in the back seats were already congregated several boys of
respectable parentage, and a loafer or two besides, as well as half a
dozen adults who frequently occupied back seats in churches. Jack
would have retired at once, but the famous Vater Offenstein had just
ascended the pulpit, removed his coat, laid it across the desk and
opened the Bible, and Jack, who was just then full of sympathy with
all believers of the Word, was anxious to observe the old man's
method.
The service began with an earnest prayer, to which responses were
offered from most of the benches near the altar. Then a rich old
German choral was finely rendered, after which Vater Offenstein
proceeded to business. Jack understood a little of the exhortation,
having studied German, and he ventured a silent prayer that its whole
meaning might be taken in by Sam Mugley, the sadler shop apprentice,
who understood German and all the ways of the evil one beside. The
discourse was apparently a powerful one, for "Amen!" "Gott macht es!"
"Liebes Herr und Heiland!" and various other responses escaped
frequently from the faithful. Old Nokkerman, man-of-all-work at Matt
Bolton's father's store, seemed particularly excited; he waved to and
fro on his seat, his shock of long uncombed hair with a bald spot in
its centre making him particularly noticeable. The old man's cranium
did not, however, attract attention only from admirers of the
picturesque, for suddenly a small but rapid ball of soft-chewed paper
made a fair bull's eye on the circle of bare scalp, and flattened
itself over considerable space. Old Nokkerman turned speedily to
perceive only several rows of solemn-faced unregenerates, Jack's eye
being the only one he could catch, so he shook his fist warningly at
the general line of occupants of the back seats, and then resumed his
blissful manifestations as quickly as if the religious ecstacy were a
mere habit which could be assumed or laid aside at will. A hurried
interchange of views took place in a whisper on the furthest seat
back, with the result that Sam Mugley, the sadler shop apprentice,
slyly drew a small tin putty-blower from an inner breast pocket, and
aimed a ball of putty at old Nokkerman's cranial target. The shot
missed its mark, being low and to one side, and struck Fritz Shantz a
smart blow in the back of his neck. As Shantz was a butcher as well as
a devout Methodist, he rose instantly with blood in his eye, and
started for the back of the church, his mien being so terrible that
one of the more cautious of the loafers hurried out of church and took
to his heels, thus diverting suspicion from the guilty person, and
laying up for himself a day of wrath which Shantz determined should
not be long postponed.
Jack was really in sympathy with the worshippers, and was also
indignant, with them, at the godless disturbers of the excellent tone
of the meeting, but it was out of the power of any healthy boy with a
keen sense of the ridiculous to avoid a little laughter at the
peculiar ways of old Nokkerman and the butcher under their annoyances.
And a little laughter in a boy of fourteen is quite likely to be
something like the beginning of strife; it led to more and yet more,
until Jack was too full to restrain his merriment, and it bubbled out
of his eyes and all over his face. The brethren knew by experience
that when disturbances began so early in the evening, the occasion
demanded sharp eyes and prompt action, so several of the occupants of
the "Amen" seats kept a pretty steady sidelong glance at the back
benches, while one brother walked quietly out of church and notified a
constable that trouble was expected.
Meanwhile, Vater Offenstein continued his exhortations, alternating
between heavenly love and the brimstone of the unpopular extreme of
the debatable land, and the excitable among the brethren and sisters
responded more and more fervently, and Gottlieb Wiffterschneck sprang
to his feet and jumped up and down shouting, "Ach, Herr Jesu!" when
the horse doctor's boy, who had been biding his time outside the
church just under one of the windows, carefully trained a huge syringe
to bear upon the altar, and deluged Vater Offenstein's face with
water, which, like the precious oil upon the head of Aaron, ran down
upon his beard and garments, and shed considerable upon the Holy Book
beside. This was too much for even good Vater Offenstein, so instead
of repeating the sublime prayer of the dying Stephen he picked up a
small wooden bench upon which short preachers usually knelt in the
pulpit, and hurled it at the window, missing the open space and
sending it through two panes of glass and the intervening sash. This
provoked a laugh even from one or two of the faithful, so the
occupants of the back benches released themselves from all restraint,
and laughed aloud in a most unseemly manner, while Vater Offenstein
wiped his face and hair with his coat, and quoted appropriate passages
of Scripture most dreadfully between his teeth, translating some of
them into English for the benefit of the race from which alone the
annoyances of the brethren proceeded. A general quiet being thereby
induced, the exhortation was resumed for a short time, and ended in an
invitation to the penitent to go forward to the altar and be prayed
for.
While the brethren sang a hymn, several sinners passed up the narrow
aisle and Jack turned his head with the hope that he might see Sam
Mugley, the saddler shop apprentice, join the band, but the wicked Sam
was just in the act of blowing a second putty-ball, and Jack's head
coming suddenly in range as it turned, the ball struck Jack fairly in
one eye, causing the boy to emit a howl of anguish. In an instant
Shantz the butcher had collared Jack and shaken him soundly,
exclaiming,
"Dat iss vat a gute Amerigan boy iss, iss it?"
"Somebody hit me in the eye with something," screamed Jack, "and it
hurts awfully. _Oh!_"
"Den dat iss too bad," said Shantz. "Dell me who it vass and I will
break effery bone in hiss body."
But Jack could not tell, and several sympathizing brethren gathered
about him and suggested that he should take a seat farther forward,
and be where the bad boys could not annoy him. Although this
suggestion, thanks to the mysterious ways of the unfathomable German
mind, was equivalent to asking him to put himself more directly under
fire, Jack gladly availed himself of it, so as to remove himself from
an environment which was full of cause for suspicion.
By this time the assemblage was on its knees, listening to a prayer by
Petrus von Schlenker. Petrus' prayer was very earnest, but it was also
long; it was delivered with such rapidity that Jack could not
understand a word of it, so the exercise became rather monotonous to
him, and he opened his eyes and looked about. Under the single slat
which formed the back of the bench, and directly in front of him, Jack
beheld the broad and well-patched trowsers-seat of Nuderkopf
Trinkelspiel, and Satan, who long ago became noted for putting in an
appearance when the Sons of God were in council (See Job, Chap. I),
suggested to Jack that through such a mass of patches a bent pin might
work its way for quite a distance without doing any serious damage to
the wearer. Jack broke an anticipatory laugh square in two, and closed
his eyes in prayer to be delivered from temptation, but when he opened
his eyes again there were the patches, apparently a little more
inviting than before. Jack did not exactly wish that some good brother
on the bench behind Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel would think to crook a pin
and place it on Nuderkopf's bench just as the latter arose to take his
seat, but he wished, in case anyone _should_ be prompted to do such a
thing, that he, Jack, might have his head turned just then so as to
observe the result of the operation. And still Petrus von Schlenker's
prayer went on, and Jack's eyes remained open, and the boy was glad
that he did not occupy the seat behind Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel, lest he
might be tempted. Suddenly there came to Jack something which would
have been called an inspiration had its tendency been different. He
remembered that he had a pin in the lapel of his own jacket, and it
occurred to him that this pin might be bent so as to have a reliable
base, and the point might be inserted in the seat of Nuderkopf
Trinkelspiel's trowsers, where it would be in position to attend to
business as soon as the worshippers resumed a sitting posture. Jack
promptly whispered to himself "Get thee behind me, Satan," suiting the
action to the word by removing the pin from the coat and dropping it
on the floor. But there it was more tempting than it had been before;
it lay there, bright, thick and strong, demanding that Jack should
look at it. It was no common, soft pin, to collapse at the first sign
of pressure, but tough enough to serve as a nail, if occasion
required. Jack was really curious to know if so unprecedented an
application of a pin could be successful, because, if he became a
preacher, as he instantly resolved he would, he might some time preach
in German in that very church, and then if such a trick were served
upon any one, he would be able to detect the guilty person. Besides,
the patch seemed to repose upon other patches, and probably the pin
point could not more than pierce the cloth itself, where it would be
when Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel knelt at the next prayer, and it would
demonstrate what would be the effect of a similar operation upon a
thinner pair of trowsers.
Jack picked up the pin and bent it with the greatest care, though it
would have seemed to an exact scientist that the upright portion was
unnecessarily long for a purpose merely experimental. He inserted it
with the greatest nicety between the coarse threads of the homespun
patch, and though he admitted that Petrus von Schlenker was considered
a very good man, he determined that his prayer was too long to be
efficacious. Suddenly the voluble Petrus said "Amen," the audience
arose, Jack's heart bounced into his mouth, Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel
began to sit down, the brethren started the noble choral beginning
"Groser Gott wir loben dich;
Herr, wir preisen deiner stärke,"
when suddenly Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel emitted a most appalling yell,
and followed it up with so many others of a similar character, that
the song sank to a faltering termination, and the singers crowded
around their disturber, scarcely knowing whether to attribute the
disturbance to pain or to grace. Several minutes elapsed before
Nuderkopf Trinkelspiel sought the cause of his agony, but when at
length he extracted the pin from the seat of his trowsers and held it
aloft in explanation, no one failed to comprehend the cause of his
agitation. Then astonishment gave place to mystery, for it passed
conjecture how the pin could even have got upon the bench, with
several reliable brethren just behind Nuderkopf and one at either side
of him. During the general arising, Jack considered it safer to start
homeward to see the company that had been expected early in the
evening, but he lingered outside the window just a moment, to see the
excitement subside, and great was his mirth as he beheld the wondering
faces of the honest Germans. Here he was joined by the Pinkshaw twin
and two or three other boys, but just then Vater Offenstein reminded
the congregation that time was rapidly bearing them on to eternity, so
the brethren resumed their seats, and Jack was going to start for home
when the Pinkshaw twin asked, perhaps forgetting Jack's new
professions,
"What next?"
Lazy George Crayton remarked that he had brought some torpedoes which
he had saved over from the fourth of July, but none of them had
exploded when he threw them, perhaps because in the church he could
not get good elbow-room when he threw.
Jack had determined not to make any more trouble, but if there was
anything which he despised above all others, it was a person who could
never think of but one way to do a thing. So he reproached George
Crayton with being a dunderhead, and George replied that if somebody
was smarter than somebody else, perhaps somebody would have the
kindness to show how. So Jack thought carefully for a moment or two,
and then asked if anyone had an old letter in his pocket. Nobody
answered in the affirmative, but as Jack said that any stout sheet of
paper a foot long would do, a boy who lived near by sped homeward, and
soon returned with a sheet of foolscap. Jack rolled this into a tube,
put several torpedoes into it, put his lips to one end by way of
illustration, and remarked
"There!"
"I'll bet you can't blow them hard enough to snap," whispered the lazy
George in reply.
Such an aspersion of the power of his lungs was too much for Jack's
principles, so he peered cautiously about the church for an
appropriate mark. Vater Offenstein was the most prominent and tempting
one in sight, but him Jack regarded almost as the Lord's anointed. On
either side of the pulpit, however, were large oil lamps, and inviting
attention to the one which was nearest, Jack took deliberate aim and
blew a mighty blast. He missed the lamp, but the wall behind the
pulpit was hard enough to stop any small projectile, and against this
the torpedoes crashed almost as a single one, and caused Vater
Offenstein to jump nearly across the pulpit. Half a dozen of the
faithful hurried out of doors, and after them, to see the fun, dashed
all the occupants of the back seats, while from some unknown hiding
place sprang the constable. Away flew the boys, all in the same
direction, and after them went the constable, the brethren and the
whole body of the scoffers. Jack and the Pinkshaw twin easily got away
from their pursuers and found friendly cover in the darkness, but a
confused sound of harsh voices, dominated by a loud wail, indicated
that lazy George Crayton had been caught.
"Oh, oh, oh," exclaimed Jack in a hoarse whisper, "isn't it too
dreadful?"
"Never mind," said the Pinkshaw twin, reassuringly, "they haven't got
_us_."
"They _will_ get us, though," said Jack. "That George Crayton will
tell on us—he's an awful coward when he gets cornered. What shall I
do?"
"Lick him," suggested the Pinkshaw twin; "lick him until he'll be
afraid to say his soul's his own the next time he gets into a scrape."
"That isn't it," said Jack. "The thing will get all over town, and all
this time I ought to have been at home to see Mr. Daybright, who was
to come to our house to-night for the express purpose of examining me
on my evidences!"
The Pinkshaw twin had nothing to say in reply to this information, and
Jack sneaked home and hung about the doorway until he assured himself
that Mr. Daybright had gone; then he made some lame excuse for his
absence and retired to a very uneasy pillow.
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