THE BATTLE IN THE ATTIC
About ten minutes after Bill Benton left his little chamber an
ill-looking man, whose garb and general appearance made it clear that he
was a tramp, came strolling across the fields. He had made some
inquiries about the farmers in the neighborhood, and his attention was
drawn to Nathan Badger as a man who was likely to keep money in the
house.
Some tramps are honest men, the victims of misfortune, not of vice, but
Tom Tapley belonged to a less creditable class. He had served two terms
in a State penitentiary without deriving any particular moral benefit
from his retired life therein. His ideas on the subject of honesty were
decidedly loose, and none who knew him well would have trusted him with
the value of a dollar.
Such was the man who approached the Badger homestead.
Now it happened that Mrs. Badger and Andrew Jackson had gone to make a
call. Both intended to be back by nine o’clock, as neither wished to
lose the gratification of being near by when Bill Benton received his
flogging. As for Mr. Badger, he was at the village as usual in the
evening.
Thus it will be seen that as Bill also had left the house, no one was
left in charge.
Tom Tapley made a careful examination of the house from the outside, and
his experienced eyes discovered that it was unprotected.
“Here’s luck!” he said to himself. “Now what’s to prevent my explorin’
this here shanty and makin’ off with any valuables I come across?”
Two objections, however, occurred to the enterprising tramp: First, it
was not likely at that time in the evening that he would be left alone
long enough to gather in his booty, and, secondly, the absent occupants
of the house might have money and articles of value on their persons
which at present it would be impossible to secure.
The front door was not locked. Mr. Tapley opened it, and, finding the
coast clear, went upstairs. Continuing his explorations, he made his way
to the little attic chamber usually occupied by the bound boy.
“Nobody sleeps here, I expect, though the bed is rumpled,” he said to
himself. “There’s two boys, I’ve heard, but it’s likely they sleep
together downstairs. I guess I’ll slip into bed and get a little rest
till it’s time to attend to business.”
The tramp, with a sigh of enjoyment, for he had not lately slept in a
bed, lay down on Bill’s hard couch. It was not long before drowsiness
overcame him and he fell asleep.
In the meantime the three absent members of the family came home. First
Mrs. Badger and Andrew Jackson returned from their visit.
“Your father isn’t home yet, Andrew,” said his mother.
“I hope he will come soon, for I’m sleepy,” said Andrew.
“Then you had better go to bed, my darling.”
“No, I won’t. I ain’t goin’ to lose seein’ Bill’s flogging. I hope
father’ll lay it on well.”
“No doubt the boy deserves it.”
“What do you think he had the impudence to say to me, mother?” asked
Andrew.
“I shall not be surprised at any impudence from the young reprobate.”
“He wanted me to beg his pardon for strikin’ him with a whip, as he said
I did.”
“Well, I never did!” ejaculated Mrs. Badger. “To think of my boy
apologizing to a low, hired boy like him!”
“Oh, he’s gettin’ awful airy, ma! Shouldn’t wonder if he thought he was
my equal!”
“There’s nothing but a flogging will subdue such a boy as that. I ain’t
unmerciful, and if the boy showed a proper humility I wouldn’t mind
doin’ all I could for him and overlookin’ his faults, but when he
insults my Andrew, I can’t excuse him. But there’s one thing I can’t
understand: He didn’t use to be so bold.”
“I know what has changed him, ma.”
“What is it, Andrew?”
“It’s that Dick Schmidt. Dick treats him as if he was his equal, and
that makes him put on airs.”
“Then Dick lowers himself--though, to be sure, I don’t hold him to be
equal to you! The Badgers are a better family than the Schmidts, and so
are the Coneys, which was my name before I was married.”
“I wonder whether Bill’s asleep?” said Andrew.
“You might go to the foot of the stairs and listen,” said his mother.
Andrew followed his mother’s advice, and, opening the door at the foot
of the attic stairs, was astonished to hear the deep breathing which
issued from Bill’s chamber.
“Ma,” he said, “Bill is snoring like a house afire.”
“Reckless boy! Does he make so light of the flogging which your father
has promised him?”
“I don’t know. He’s gettin’ awful sassy lately. I do wish father would
come home.”
“I think I hear him now,” said Mrs. Badger, listening intently.
Her ears did not deceive her.
Soon the steps of the master of the house, as he considered himself,
were heard upon the doorstep, and Mr. Nathan Badger entered.
“I’m glad you’ve come, pa. Are you goin’ to flog Bill now?”
“Yes, my son. Get me a stout stick from the woodshed.”
Andrew Jackson obeyed with alacrity.
Armed with the stick, Mr. Badger crept upstairs, rather astonished by
his bound boy’s noisy breathing, and, entering the darkened chamber,
brought the stick down smartly on the astonished sleeper.
In about two minutes Mrs. Badger and Andrew, standing at the foot of the
stairs, were astonished by the noise of a terrible conflict in the
little attic chamber, as if two men were wrestling.
There was the sound of a heavy body flung on the floor, and the voice of
Mr. Badger was heard shouting:
“Help! help! murder!”
“The young villain’s killing your father!” exclaimed the astonished Mrs.
Badger. “Go up and help him!”
“I don’t dare to,” said Andrew, pale as a sheet.
“Then I will!” said his mother, and she hurried upstairs, only to be met
by her husband, who was literally tumbled downstairs by the occupant of
the attic chamber.
Husband and wife fell together in a heap, and Andrew Jackson uttered a
yell of dismay.
In all the confidence of assured victory, Mr. Nathan Badger, seeing the
dim outline of a figure upon the bed, had brought down his stick upon it
with emphasis.
“I’ll l’arn you!” he muttered in audible accents.
It was a rude awakening for Tom Tapley, the tramp, who was sleeping as
peacefully as a child.
The first blow aroused him, but left him in a state of bewilderment, so
that he merely shrank from the descending stick without any particular
idea of what had happened to him.
“Didn’t feel it, did yer?” exclaimed Mr. Badger. “Well, I’ll see if I
can’t make yer feel it!” and he brought down the stick for the second
time with considerably increased vigor.
By this time Tom Tapley was awake. By this time also he thoroughly
understood the situation or thought he did. He had been found out, and
the farmer had undertaken to give him a lesson.
“That depends on whether you’re stronger than I am,” thought Tom, and he
sprang from the bed and threw himself upon the astonished farmer.
Nathan Badger was almost paralyzed by the thought that Bill Benton, his
hired boy, was absolutely daring enough to resist his lawful master. He
was even more astounded by Bill’s extraordinary strength. Why, as the
boy grappled with him, he actually felt powerless. He was crushed to the
floor, and, with the boy’s knee upon his breast, struggled in vain to
get up. It was so dark that he had not yet discovered that his
antagonist was a man and not a boy.
Nathan Badger had heard that insane persons are endowed with
extraordinary strength, and it flashed upon him that the boy had become
suddenly insane.
The horror of being in conflict with a crazy boy so impressed him that
he cried for help.
Then it was that Tom Tapley, gathering all his strength, lifted up the
prostrate farmer and pitched him downstairs just as Mrs. Badger was
mounting them, so that she and her husband fell in a breathless heap on
the lower stairs, to the indescribable dismay of Andrew Jackson.
Mrs. Badger was the first to pick herself up.
“What does all this mean, Mr. Badger?” she asked.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” said Mr. Badger ruefully.
“You don’t mean to say you ain’t a match for a boy?” she demanded
sarcastically.
“Perhaps you’d like to try him yourself?” said her husband.
“This is very absurd, Mr. Badger. You know very well he’s weak for a boy
of sixteen, and he hasn’t had anything to eat since morning.”
“If you think he’s weak, you’d better tackle him,” retorted Nathan. “I
tell you, wife, he’s got the strength of a man and a strong man, too.”
“I don’t understand it. Tell me exactly what happened.”
“Well, you saw me go upstairs with the stick Andrew Jackson gave me,”
said Mr. Badger, assuming a sitting position. “I saw the boy lyin’ on
the bed, snoring and I up with my stick and brought it down pretty hard.
He quivered a little, but that was all. So I thought I’d try it again.
He jumped out of bed and sprang on me like a tiger, grinding his teeth,
but not saying a word. I tell you, wife, he seemed as strong as a horse.
I couldn’t get up, and he sat and pounded me.”
“The idea of being pounded by a small boy!” ejaculated Mrs. Badger.
“Just what I’d have said a quarter of an hour ago!”
“It seems impossible!”
“Perhaps it does, but it’s so.”
“He never acted so before.”
“No, and he never hit Andrew Jackson before, but yesterday he did it. I
tell you what, wife, I believe the boy’s gone crazy.”
“Crazy!” ejaculated Mrs. Badger and Andrew in a breath.
“Just so! When folks are crazy they’re a good deal stronger than it’s
nateral for them to be, and that’s the way with Bill Benton.”
“But what could possibly make him crazy?” demanded Mrs. Badger
incredulously.
“It may be the want of vittles. I don’t know as we’d orter have kept him
without his dinner and supper.”
“I don’t believe a bit in such rubbish,” said Mrs. Badger, whose courage
had come back with the absolute silence in the attic chamber. “I believe
you’re a coward, Nathan Badger. I’ll go upstairs myself and see if I
can’t succeed better than you did.”
“You’d better not, wife.”
“Oh, don’t go, ma!” said Andrew Jackson, pale with terror.
“I’m going!” said the intrepid woman. “It shan’t be said of me that I’m
afraid of a little bound boy who’s as weak as a rat.”
“You’ll find out how weak he is,” said Mr. Badger. “I warn you not to
go.”
“I’m goin’, all the same,” said Mrs. Badger. “You’ll see how I’ll tame
him down. Give me the stick.”
“Then go if you’re so plaguy obstinate,” said her husband, and it must
be confessed that he rather hoped his wife, who had ventured to ridicule
him, might herself meet with a reception that would make her change her
tune somewhat.
Mrs. Badger, stick in hand, marched up to the door of the attic and
called out boldly:
“Open the door, you young villain!”
“How does she know I’m young?” thought Tom Tapley, who was on guard in
the room. “Well, now, if she wasn’t such an old woman I should feel
flattered. I guess I’ll have to scare her a little. It wouldn’t be
polite to tumble her downstairs as I did her husband.”
“Have you gone crazy?” demanded Mrs. Badger behind the door.
“Not that I know of,” muttered the tramp.
“Perhaps you think you can manage me as well as Mr. Badger?” she
continued.
“I should smile if I couldn’t,” commented Tom Tapley. “That woman must
think she’s extra strong to be a match for me!”
“I’m coming in to whip you till you cry for mercy!”
“Really, she’s a pretty spunky old woman!” thought the tramp. “If I
can’t hold my own against her, I’ll sell myself for old rags!”
Mrs. Badger pushed open the door, saw dimly the outline of the tramp and
struck at it with the stick.
But alas! the stick was wrenched from her hand, a pistol, loaded only
with powder, was discharged, and the intrepid lady, in a panic, flew out
of the room and downstairs, tumbling into her husband’s arms.
Nathan Badger was delighted at his wife’s discomfiture. She couldn’t
taunt him any longer.
“I told you so!” he chuckled. “How do you like tacklin’ him yourself, my
dear? Wouldn’t you like to try it again? Ho! ho!”
“Mr. Badger, you’re a fool!” exclaimed his wife sharply.
“It strikes me you’re a little in that way yourself, Mrs. Badger. Did
you give him a floggin’? Ho, ho! you were in a great hurry to come
away!”
“Mr. Badger, he fired at me with a pistol. I tell you he’s a dangerous
boy to have in the house.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Badger, you can manage him just as easy!”
“Shut up, Mr. Badger! How did I know he had a pistol? I tell you it’s a
serious thing! Before morning, you, and Andrew Jackson, and me may be
dead corpses!”
At this awful statement Andrew Jackson burst into a terrified howl.
“I’ll tell you what we’d better do, Mr. Badger. We’ll go into our room
and lock ourselves in.”
“Let me come in, too,” said Andrew. “He’ll kill me! He hates me!”
“Yes, my darling, you may come, too!” said his mother.
So the valiant three locked themselves up in a chamber and listened
nervously.
But Tom Tapley was already out of the house. He made his escape over the
roof, fearing that the neighborhood would be roused and his safety
endangered.
So passed a night of unparalleled excitement in the Badger homestead.