STUNG
"I ain't hardly had a decent swim all summer," Sube complained to
Gizzard one day late in August. "It's all right to go in on the sly once
in a while, but when you got to do it all the time it gets to be a
chestnut."
"Well, why don't we fix up some other swimmin'-hole?" suggested Gizzard.
"The Unionville hole is the only decent one there is!" returned Sube
bitterly. "And I'm goin'ta fix that Bigmouth Bissett so's he won't come
botherin' when _I'm_ in swimmin'! That's what I'm goin'ta do!"
Gizzard's interest was aroused at once. "What you goin' to do to 'em?"
he asked.
"Never you mind! I'll fix 'em! He'll be sorry he ever monkeyed around
_me_!"
"But how'll you fix 'em?" Gizzard insisted.
"You jus' wait! I'll show you!"
To tell the truth Sube did not then know what he was going to do to his
arch enemy. But he had supreme faith that there is always something to
be done if one can only think of it. Relations had been strained ever
since the limburger episode. Seth Bissett had sworn that he would avenge
himself, and he was everywhere regarded as a gentleman of his word in
matters of vengeance.
Accordingly, whenever Sube and his companions had desired to take a
swim, they had deemed it advisable to post a sentry in a place where he
could command a view of the approach to the swimming-hole. And as picket
duty usually fell to Biscuit's lot no matter who counted out or how,
Biscuit made slow progress in mastering the art of swimming in the water
with the same degree of skill he exhibited on top of the kitchen table.
He was still inclined to swim like a fish--under water.
But he was a past-master at the art of "chawin' beef." He could untie
knotted clothes faster than any other member of the gang--perhaps
because he had had more practice--and he was familiar with every known
penalty meted out to "the last man with his clo's off." He could tell
with clairvoyant certainty who was "cracking stones"; and as a sentry he
stood in a class by himself. He never slept, he never loafed; he never
slipped back to take a peek at the game of tag. But when the enemy
approached he quickly spread the alarm so that the swimmers could snatch
up their clothes and retire into the bushes.
At first the element of danger was exhilarating; then it became
bothersome; and finally, intolerable. It was at this stage that Sube
made known his intention to fix Seth Bissett. Not long afterwards he
went into the silence and emerged with an idea. Then his actions became
suspicious, and his face assumed a look of inscrutable determination.
The subsequent acts of Sube and Gizzard were baffling in the extreme.
They repaired to the upper story of the barn for a conference; but when
Annie innocently entered the barn a few moments afterwards in quest of
kindling wood, Sube's suspicions were aroused, for suspicions are one of
the most precious possessions of boyhood.
"Bet she's follerin' us!" he whispered.
Gizzard glanced cautiously about before he replied, "Prob'ly."
"Let's get out of here and go to some place that's safe."
An adjournment was thereupon taken to the midst of the berry patch in
the rear of the deserted house, to which they had fled the night Dan
Lannon was after them. From there they returned to the barn and
obtained the ball of strong twine that Sube had used on his box kite,
after which they took a roundabout course that brought them at dusk to
the Unionville Mill.
They slipped across the bridge and plunged into the jungle back of the
swimming-hole; and there they lay in hiding until the last laggard
swimmer had left. Then they stepped boldly into the clearing.
After assuring himself that the coast was clear Sube drew back his
sleeves in imitation of a prestidigitator. "Watch me closely, ladies and
gent'mun!" he began in an undertone. "The hand is quicker than the eye."
He made a few baffling passes with his hands and produced the ball of
string. This he held aloft between his thumb and forefinger that each
and all might see.
"I have here a simple little ball of twine, ladies and gent'mun! A
simple little--"
"Aw, shut up!" cried Gizzard good naturedly. "And go on up that tree
'fore it gets so dark you can't see nuthin'!"
Sube immediately began to climb the huge leaning willow that overhung
the pool, protesting meanwhile that the hand was quicker than the eye.
But after he had ascended a few feet he became singularly silent.
Between the darkness and the foliage Gizzard lost sight of him
completely, but he did not appear to be alarmed, for he lay down on his
back and gazed up at the stars that were just beginning to become
visible. It was some time before Sube re-appeared laboriously lowering
himself to the ground. As soon as his feet touched the sod he snatched
the ball of string from his teeth and spat vigorously.
"Rottenes' string I ever tasted!" he sputtered.
"Well," returned Gizzard, "if it's any worse'n chawin' a knot out of a
porpoise-hide shoestring, I don't want any."
"But I got it fixed all right," said Sube.
Then Gizzard led the way into the shrubbery, followed by Sube, who
carefully paid out the string as he went. An observer might have thought
that the pair were intent upon outwitting a labyrinth; but assuredly
such was not their purpose. For after retiring a few paces into the
underbrush, Sube tied the string securely to a sapling, and detaching
the ball with his knife, put it into his pocket; then, taking hold of
hands in order to keep together they made a wide detour to avoid coming
in contact with the string, and started for home.
The next night was a memorable one in the annals of the Unionville
swimming-hole. None of the bathers present that night could think of
anything else for several hours afterwards; and the pangs of some of
them lasted well into the next day, and even the day after that. The
thing began just as Seth Bissett was poised on the bank for a dive.
He heard a vicious hum, and at almost the same instant felt something
strike him a stinging blow on the ear. Before he could so much as raise
his hand to investigate, another pierced his shoulder. Then a broadside
swept his entire body.
The other members of the party were at a loss to account for his strange
actions, other than by the hypothesis that he had been seized with
sudden insanity; for, with an unearthly yell, he leaped into the air
swinging his arms and legs like the wings of an ungainly windmill, and
landed, after a short but successful flight, far out in the water.
As he came to the surface he took up the yell where he had left off and
again began the windmill motions to the accompaniment of incoherent
profanity. Then he went down again. By this time his strange conduct was
perfectly understood by his companions, for they had themselves been
attacked by the same insidious foe. A swarm of yellow-jacket hornets,
proverbially mad, had descended upon them without apparent provocation,
and wholly without warning.
As soon as the wily yellowjackets discovered that their prey was in the
water, they hovered about over the surface, striking at everything that
came up. And while mankind is, in a limited way, amphibious, surely he
makes no claim of extensive submarine ability. This fact the murderous
hordes seemed to have taken into consideration in carrying out their
attack.
By painful stages the victims worked their way downstream until they
were out of range. Then they dragged themselves up on the bank and
started what looked like a cartoon of a mud-slinging campaign. To an
idle passerby a group of full grown human beings with their heads and
often their bodies completely poulticed in black mud would have been an
amusing sight. But on this occasion not so much as a suspicion of a
smile crossed the face of any person present. An incipient laugh would
doubtless have been punished by immediate execution.
The only observers who were not among the suffering participants were in
no mood for smiles. They lay absolutely motionless back in the bushes
and devoutly hoped that their labored breathing and pounding heartbeats
would not be overheard. The affair had got away from them entirely.
There was no telling what would happen if their part in it should be
discovered.
Not until it was quite dark did the badly stung bathers dare to return
for their clothes. The hornets were gone. And the languid stillness of
the summer night was broken only by their grim tokens of exclamation.
Some time after the last suffering victim had dragged his weary feet
down the path leading from the pool, two dark shadows cautiously emerged
from the shrubbery.
"Let's beat it for home!" urged a husky voice. "If any one saw us around
here they'd prob'ly kill us!"
"All right," breathed the other. "The quicker the better!"
"Do you s'pose any one ever did die from bee-sting?"
"I'm afraid so. One feller said if he didn't die before mornin' he might
have one chance in a hundred--"
Next day Sube's face blanched with fear as he saw the undertaker's wagon
pass the house in the direction of the Unionville Mill. When the
fearsome news was broken to Gizzard he presented a ray of hope.
"I ast my dad last night if anybody ever died of bee-sting and he said
he never heard of any; but he said if a person got enough of 'em he
couldn't see why they wouldn't kill just like a charge of birdshot."
"Does he know about everybody that dies in the whole world?" asked Sube
incredulously.
"Maybe not all of 'em; but he knows about a good many."
At this point in the discussion Biscuit arrived, and with him came a
brilliant idea to Sube.
"How good do you know Hi Wilbur, Biscuit?" he asked.
"How good! Say! He used to work for us!"
"Bet you don't know 'im good enough to nail 'im for a ride when he comes
along!" challenged Sube.
"Oh! Don't I! Don't I, now! Well, you just watch me! _Watch_ me! I'll
show you if I do or not!" howled Biscuit.
"Well," said Sube, "he jus' went down the street, and when he comes back
pretty quick we'll watch you all right!"
"Huh! You watch me! _Watch_ me!"
"Well," taunted Sube, "when you're ridin' with 'im and we're watchin'
you, I'll bet you dassent ask him who's dead down the street--Here he
comes now! Get on the job, Biscuit! We're watchin'!"
As the undertaker's service wagon approached with Hi on the lofty seat,
Biscuit ran out in the road and hailed him. The team was instantly
brought to a standstill and Biscuit clambered aboard.
"Fooled you, didn't he?" jeered Gizzard.
"Not on your life he didn't!" retorted Sube. "When he comes back and
tells us who's dead you'll see that I fooled--Look!--He's gettin' down!"
Biscuit came running back to them triumphantly. "Ha-ha! What'd I tell
you--!"
"Who's dead?" interrupted Sube.
"Nobody but ol' Miss Stebbins," replied Biscuit. "But I got some'pm
better'n that to tell you!"
Sube and Gizzard waited in breathless suspense until Biscuit should
speak. There was no telling what it might be.
"They've took Seth Bissett back to prison--!"
"What's that!" cried Sube and Gizzard in a chorus.
"Yessir! The payroll officer came this mornin' and found Seth's face all
blotchy 'cause he'd been on two or three drunks lately, and the officer
said there was a lot of complaints against 'im, so he took 'im back to
prison!"
"Did they take 'im jus' cause his face was all broke out?" asked Sube
weakly.
"Oh, my no!" replied Biscuit. "Hi says he's been drunk every night for a
month, hollerin' round and bustin' windows and all like that!"
"Hear that, Gizzard, ol' sock!" cried Sube, lustily thumping Gizzard on
the chest. "Hear what he said!"
For an answer Gizzard returned a jovial body-blow, after which the two
boys clinched and went down rolling over and over in the exuberance of
their spirits.
The gang was hastily assembled for a swim, and soon with unrestrained
shouts of joy they were tearing along the narrow path, undressing as
they went. Sube was the first one in the water. As he came to the
surface his companions thought they detected a peculiar expression on
his face, but they threw themselves into the pool without stopping to
investigate. Then they were sorry. For the pool was unspeakably
polluted.
They hurriedly dragged themselves out on the bank, making faces
expressive of disgust and disappointment. Sube was the first to speak.
"It's all off for this year!" he growled. "We might jus' well go up to
the spring and wash this smelly ol' water off'm us. That rotten ol'
pickle factory's opened up--"
"Pickle factory?" asked Biscuit. "What's the pickle factory got to do
with it?"
"Why, they'll be dumpin' their ol' smelly brine in the creek from now
until next winter!... And jus' when we'd got the hole to ourselves,
too!"