TOM'S RUNAWAY
"Tom Mason is going to bring his colt out this afternoon," said Harry
to Bert, "and we can all take turns trying him."
"Oh, is it that pretty little brown horse I saw in the field back of
Tom's home?" asked Bert.
"That's him," Harry replied. "Isn't he a beauty!"
"Yes, I would like first-rate to ride him, but young horses are awful
skittish, aren't they?"
"Sometimes, but this one is partly broken. At any rate, we wouldn't
have far to fall, for he is a little fellow," said Harry.
So the boys went down to Tom's home at the appointed time, and there
they met Jack Hopkins.
"We've made a track around the fields," Tom told his companions, "and
we will train him to run around the ring, for father thinks he may be a
race-horse some day, he's so swift."
"You may go first," the boys told him, "as he's your horse."
"All right!" Tom replied, making for the stake where Sable, the pony,
was tied. Sable marched along quietly enough and made no objections to
Tom getting on his back. There was no saddle, but just the bit in the
horse's mouth and attached to it a short piece of rein.
"Get app, Sable!" called Tom, snapping a small whip at the pony's side.
But instead of going forward the little horse tried to sit down!
"Whoa! whoa!" called the boys, but Tom clung to Sable's neck and held
on in spite of the pony's back being like a toboggan slide.
"Get off there, get off there!" urged Tom, yet the funny little animal
only backed down more.
"Light a match and set it under his nose," Harry suggested. "That's the
way to make a balky horse go!"
Someone had a match, which was lighted and put where Sable could sniff
the sulphur.
"Look out! Hold on, Tom!" yelled the boys all at once, for at that
instant Sable bolted off like a deer.
"He's running away!" called Bert, which was plain to be seen, for Tom
could neither turn him this way or that, but had all he could do to
hold on the frightened animal's neck.
"If he throws him Tom will surely be hurt!" Harry exclaimed, and the
boys ran as fast as they could across the field after the runaway.
"Whoa! whoa! whoa!" called everybody after the horse, but that made not
the slightest difference to Sable, who just went as if the woods were
afire. Suddenly he turned and dashed straight up a big hill and over
into a neighbor's cornfield.
"Oh, mercy!" cried Harry, "those people are so mean about their garden,
they'll have Tom arrested if there's any corn broken."
Of course it was impossible for a runaway horse to go through a field
of corn and do no damage, and Tom realized this too. By this time the
dogs were out barking furiously, and altogether there was wild
excitement. At one end of the field there was a high board fence.
"If I could only get him there he would have to stop," thought Tom, and
suddenly he gave Sable a jerk in that direction.
"Drop off, Tom, drop off!" yelled the boys. "He'll throw you against
the fence!"
But at that minute the little horse threw himself against the boards in
such a way that Tom slid off, yet held tightly to the reins.
The horse fell, quite exhausted.
As quickly as they could get there the boys came up to help Tom.
"Hurry!" said Harry, "there is scarcely any corn broken, and we can get
away before the Trimbles see us. They're away back in the fields
planting late cabbage."
Tom felt hardly able to walk, but he limped along while Harry led Sable
carefully between the cornhills. It was only a few feet to the edge of
the field, and then they were all safe on the road again.
"Are you hurt?" the boys asked Tom, when finally they had a chance to
speak about the runaway.
"I feel as if I had dropped from a balloon onto a lot of cobblestones,"
Tom answered, "but I guess that's only the shaking up I got. That pony
certainly can go."
"Yes indeed," Harry admitted; "I guess he doesn't like the smell of
sulphur matches. Lucky he was not injured with that fall against the
fence."
"I found I had to throw him," Tom said, "and I thought the fence was
softer than a tree."
"I suppose we ought to make him run until he is played out," said Bert,
"That's the way to cure a horse of running away."
But none of the boys felt like risking their bones even to cure Sable,
so the panting animal was led to the stable and for the rest of the day
allowed to think over his bad conduct.
But that was not the last of the runaway, for in the evening just after
supper old Mr. Trimble paid a visit to Tom's father.
"I came over to tell you what a scallywag of a boy you've got," began
the cross old man. "He and a lot of young loafers took a horse and
drove him all through my cornfield to-day, and now you've got to pay
the damages."
"My son is not a scallywag," Mr. Mason declared, "and if you call him
names like loafer and scallywag I'll make you pay damages."
"Oh! you will, eh?" the other sneered. "Think I'm afraid of an old
constable up here, do you?"
"Well now, see here," Mr. Mason said, "Be reasonable and do not quarrel
over an accident. If any corn is knocked down I'll get Tom to fix it
up, if it's broken down we will see what it would cost to replace it.
But the boys did not do it purposely, and it was worse for Tom than
anyone else, for he's all black and blue from the hard knocks he got."
At this the cross man quieted down and said, Well, he would see about
it. Mr. Trimble was one of those queer people who believe all a boy is
good for is doing mischief and all a boy deserves is scolding or
beating. Perhaps this was because he had no sons of his own and
therefore had no regard for the sons of other people.
Mr. Mason went directly to the cornfield with his neighbor. He looked
carefully over every hill, and with a spade and hoe he was able to put
back into place the few stalks that had been knocked down in Sable's
flight.
"There now," said Mr. Mason, "I guess that corn is as good as ever. If
it wants any more hoeing Tom will come around in the morning and do it.
He is too stiff to move to-night."
So that ended the runaway, except for a very lame boy, Tom Mason, who
had to limp around for a day or two from stiffness.
"How would you like to be a jockey!" laughed his companions. "You held
on like a champion, but you were not in training for the banging you
got."
"Well, I guess Sable will make a fine racehorse," said Tom, "when he's
broken. But it will take someone stronger than I am to break him in."
The next afternoon all the boys went fishing. They had been out quite
late the night before to find the "night walkers" for bait, as those
little worms only come out of the ground after dark. Bert had a new
line his father brought from Lakeport, and the others boys had nets and
hooks, as most country boys who live near streams are always fond of
fishing.
"Let's go over to the cove," Harry said when they all started off.
"There's lots of good fish in that dark corner."
So the cove was chosen as a good spot to fish from, and soon the
Bobbsey boys and their friends were lying around the edge of the deep
clear stream, waiting for a bite.
Bert was the first to jerk his line, and he brought it up with such
force that the chubfish on his hook slapped Harry right in the face!
"Look out!" called Harry, trying to dodge the flapping fish. "Put your
catch down. He's a good one, but I don't care about having him kiss me
that way again."
All the boys laughed at Bert, who was a green fisherman they said. The
fish was really a very nice plump chub and weighed more than a pound.
He floundered around in the basket and flapped his tail wildly trying
to get away from them.
"I've got one," called Tom next, at the same moment pulling his line
and bringing up a pretty little sunfish. Now "sunnies" are not
considered good eating, so Tom's catch did not come up to Bert's, but
it was put in the basket just the same.
"I'm going out on the springboard," August Stout announced, stepping
cautiously out on the board from which good swimmers dived.
"You know you can't swim, August," said Harry, "and if you get a catch
and jerk it you'll tumble in."
"Oh! I'll be all right," August answered, lying down flat on the narrow
springboard and dropping his line.
For a time all the boys lay watching for a bite. No one spoke, for
sometimes they say fish are very sensitive to sound and go in another
direction if they hear a voice.
It was a beautiful July day, and perhaps the boys were a little lazy.
At any rate, they all became so quiet the little woodpeckers on the
trees went on with their work pecking at the tree bark as if no human
being was in sight.
Suddenly there was a big splash!
"August!" yelled all the boys at once, for indeed August was gone from
the springboard.
"Quick!" called Harry to his companions. "He can't swim!"
The next minute the boy in the water came to the top and threw up his
arm. But no one was near enough to reach it.
"Strike out, August!" yelled Bert. "We're coming," and one boy after
the other dropped in the water now, having thrown off their heavy
clothing.
"Oh, where is he?" screamed Bert in terror, for no movement on the
water's surface showed them where August was.
"Here!" cried Tom Mason, who was quite a distance out. "Here he is!
Help! come quick!"
No need to urge the boys to hasten, for all realized the danger their
companion was in.
"Don't pull down, August," went on Tom. "Try to help yourself, or
you'll pull me under." Harry had around his neck a strong piece of rope
he picked up as he made a dive into the water.
"Take hold of this," he called to August, "and we can all pull."
As the rope was put in August's hand the other boys all took hold and
soon towed the unfortunate boy in.
"He's very weak," said Harry when they pulled August up on the shore.
"I guess he has swallowed a lot of water. We better roll him on the
grass and work his arms up and down. That will revive him."
August was indeed very weak, and had had a narrow escape. For some time
his companions worked over him before he opened his eyes and spoke.
"Oh!" he murmured at last, "I'm so sick!"
"I guess you are, August," said Tom, "but you'll be all right soon."
They lifted him carefully under a shady tree and removed his wet
clothing.
"I'll run over to Smith's and get him something to wear home," said
Harry, who hurried across lots and presently returned with an old suit
of clothes. August was able to dress himself now, and as soon as he
felt strong enough the boys helped him home.
"You can have my fish, August," said Bert nobly.
"And mine too," Tom added. August did not want to accept the boys'
offers at first, but at last they prevailed upon him to do so.
"I think I fell asleep," said he, referring to the accident.
"Guess we all did!" added Harry, "for we only woke up when we heard the
splash."
It seems the number of accidents country boys have only make them truer
friends, for all the things that happened in Meadow Brook made each boy
think more of his companions both in being grateful for the help given
and being glad no dear friend's life was lost.