A COWARDLY TRICK
"We seem to have this car almost all to ourselves," remarked Mouser,
looking around.
"We ought to call it the Rockledge Special," laughed Pee Wee.
"Perhaps Tommy might object to that," said Bobby.
"Go as far as you like," grinned Tommy.
The travel was indeed very light on that particular day. There were only
six or eight people scattered through the car. This was due in part to
the snowstorm. Nobody would do much traveling on such a day unless it
was absolutely necessary.
Half-way down the car, and on the other side of the aisle, a very old
man was seated. He was evidently traveling alone. His hair was gray and
scanty and his face was seamed with wrinkles. It was clear that he was
very tired, and every once in a while his head would drop on his breast
in a doze from which he would awake with a start at any sudden jar of
the train.
"It's too bad that such an old man should have to be going on a journey
all alone," remarked Bobby with quick sympathy.
"Yes," agreed Fred. "He must be awful old. He looks as if he was as much
as eighty."
"He's a Grand Army man too," observed Mouser. "You can see that from the
hat he has there up in the rack."
"He may be going to visit some of his children," suggested Pee Wee.
"More likely he's going to the Old Soldiers' Home," conjectured Bobby.
"You know there is one a little way the other side of Rockledge."
"I'll bet he could tell some mighty good stories about the war," said
Fred.
"I'd like to see all that he has seen," mused Bobby.
"Or do all that he has done," added Mouser. "It must be great to have
been in a big war like that."
"Maybe he was at Gettysburg," guessed Pee Wee.
"Or marched with Grant or Sherman," chimed in Fred.
Their youthful imaginations quickened as they recalled the exciting
scenes in which the veteran might have played a part, and they had a
deep respect for him now as he sat there in his old age and weakness.
"I'd almost like to go up and get him to talking," ventured Fred. "We
might get him started on the war. It's all very well to read about it,
but there's nothing like hearing from one who has been through it."
"I don't think I would if I were you," objected Bobby. "He's probably
too tired to do much talking and would rather be left alone."
"There's another fellow going up to him now," replied Fred, "and I'll
bet he'll get some good stories out of him."
He indicated a large overgrown boy who seemed to be about fourteen years
old. Up to now, he had been seated on the other side of the aisle from
the veteran. But now he had risen and gone over in his direction. But
instead of slipping into the seat beside him, as the boys had expected,
he sat down in the seat directly behind him.
"Guess again, Fred," laughed Pee Wee good-naturedly.
"Everybody's hunches go wrong sometimes," answered Fred defensively.
"What's the fellow up to anyway?" asked Mouser, with a sudden stirring
of curiosity.
The newcomer seemed to have a long feather in his hand such as is
commonly used in feather dusters. While the old man's head drooped in a
doze, the boy reached over and tickled the back of the old man's neck
with the tip of the feather.
The veteran reached up his hand fretfully as though to brush away a fly
that was annoying him. The boy drew back and snickered audibly.
The boys looked at each other indignantly.
"What do you think of that?" demanded Mouser.
"Queer sense of fun some people have," snorted Pee Wee.
"He's a cheap skate," declared Fred angrily.
"He ought to have a thrashing," exclaimed Bobby.
Several times the scene was repeated, and the would-be joker was in high
glee at the success of his trick.
At last the old man gave up the attempt to sleep, and straightened up
wearily in his seat.
The joker looked around the car as though seeking for applause, but the
silly grin on his face stiffened into a scowl as he met only
contemptuous glances.
But his delicate sense of humor was not yet exhausted. The old man rose
from his seat to go to the back of the car to get a drink of water. As
he passed the fellow's seat, the latter reached out the tip of his foot.
The veteran tripped against it, stumbled and had all he could do to keep
from falling by clutching the back of a seat.
This was the last straw and the boys were furious. By a common impulse
they sprang out of their seats and went quickly down the aisle to where
the fellow was sitting.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself!" snapped Bobby.
"You're too mean to live!" blazed out Fred.
"A fellow that'll torment an old man like that ought to be tarred and
feathered," blurted Mouser.
"And ridden on a rail," finished Pee Wee.
The fellow looked at them with surprise that was mingled with alarm as
he noted their wrathful faces. He jumped up and stood with his back
toward the window.
Now that they saw him at closer range, their first impression of him was
confirmed. He was strong and muscular, but the strength of his body was
belied by the weakness of his face. It was a thoroughly mean face,
pallid and unhealthy looking, with a loose mouth and shifty eyes that
dropped when you looked straight into them.
"What's the matter with you boobs?" he demanded, in a voice that he
tried to make threatening. "You'd better mind your own business. Who
asked you to butt in?"
"We didn't need any asking," replied Bobby. "We saw what you did to that
old man. You seemed to think it was funny, but we think it's mean and
sneaking."
"And you've got to stop it," put in Fred.
"It will be the worse for you if you don't," added Mouser.
"I'll do just exactly what I want to do," was the ugly reply, "and I'd
like to see you Buttinskis stop me."
"We'll stop you quick enough," said Bobby, "and the first thing we're
going to do is to make you change your seat."
"Oh, you own the car, do you? I've paid my fare on this train and I'll
sit anywhere I want to. Any one would think you were president of the
road to hear you talk."
"We'll do something besides talk in a minute," Mouser came back at him.
"What'll you do?" jeered the bully, though his voice now was getting
unsteady as he saw that the boys were in earnest.
Fred leaned forward, snatched the fellow's cap from his head and threw
it in a seat some distance away.
"Follow your hat and you'll find your seat," he cried.
The fellow started forward in a rage, but just then the conductor came
into the car. He came forward briskly.
"Here, none of this!" he exclaimed. "You boys mustn't do any scrapping
on this train. Get back in your seats now, all of you, and behave
yourselves."
The boys slowly obeyed, although Fred, whose fighting blood was up, had
to be urged along a little by the others.
"No sense in not minding the conductor," counseled Bobby. "We've carried
our point and that's enough."
They had indeed carried their point, for the fellow, having regained his
cap, slumped down in the seat where Fred had thrown it, and for the rest
of the trip the old man was left in peace.
Nor did the bully try to get even for his discomfiture. But if looks
could kill, the boys would surely have been withered up by the angry
glances he shot at them from time to time.
"He's a sweet specimen, isn't he?" chuckled Mouser.
"A nice thing to have around the house," commented Pee Wee.
"He'd brighten it up on rainy days," laughed Bobby.
"A cute little cut-up, all right," affirmed Fred.
"I'd hate to have him at Rockledge," said Mouser.
"Perhaps he's going there, for all we know," Pee Wee suggested.
"I hope not!" exclaimed Fred. "Bronson and Jinks are about all we can
stand as it is."
"Wouldn't Bronson and Jinks be glad to have him there?" said Bobby.
"They'd be as thick as peas in a pod in less than no time."
But further comment was cut short by the brake man throwing open the
door and shouting:
"All out for Rockledge!"