JOHN HENRYS HAPPY HOME.
Early the next morning I broke camp and took the trail to town,
determined never to come back alive unless Bunch agreed to sell the
plantation to Uncle Peter.
The old gentleman had crowded his check for $20,000 into my
trembling hands the night before with instructions to deposit it in
my bank, and at my convenience I was to let him have the deed to
the place.
Well, if Bunch should refuse to play ball I could send the check
back to Uncle Peter, and a telegram to Clara J., telling her that I
was back in the flat, laid up with a spavined fetlock or something.
Uncle Peter was out in the garden planting puree of split peas or
some other spring vegetable when I started for the train, so all
the Recording Angel had to put down against me was the new batch of
Ochiltrees I told Clara J.
I soon located Bunch, and to my surprise found him more inclined to
josh than to jolt.
[Illustration: Bunch Jefferson--All to the Good and Two to Carry.]
"Ah! my friend from the bush!" he exclaimed; "are you in town to
buy imitation coal, or is it to get a derrick and hoist your home
affairs away from my property? Why don't you take a tumble, John,
and let go?"
"Bunch," I said, "believe me, this is the crudest game of
freeze-out I ever sat in. My throat is sore from singing, 'Father,
dear father, come home with me now!' and every move I make nets me
a new ornamentation on my neck. Why didn't I tell the good wife
that the ponies put the crimp in my pocketbook instead of crawling
into this chasm of prevarication and trouble?"
"You can search me!" Bunch answered, thoughtfully.
"And that phony wire you sent me yesterday almost gave me a
plexus," I said bitterly. "Why did you frame up one of those
when-we-were-twenty-one dispatches from the front? It sounded like
a love song from Willie Hayface of Cohoes, after his first day on
Broadway. Didn't you know that my wife was liable to open that
queer fellow and put me on the toasting fork?"
Bunch blinked his eyes solemnly, but when I told him all about the
trouble his telegram had caused he simply rose up on his hind legs
and laughed me to a sit down.
"Well," he gasped after a long fit of cackling; "sister did intend
going out to Jiggersville and the only way I could stop her was to
suddenly discover that her health wasn't any too good, so I chased
her off to Virginia Hot Springs for a couple of weeks."
After all, Bunch had his redeeming qualities.
"I sent you that wire before I took sister's temperature," Bunch
explained, "and I quite forgot to send another which would put a
copper on the queens."
Once more he laughed uproariously and chortled between the
outbursts, "Now--ha, ha, ha!--I'm even for--ha, ha, ha!--for that
shoot the chute I did in your--ha, ha, ha--in your cellar--oh! ha,
ha, ha, ha!"
"Oh, quit your kidding!" I begged, and then, suddenly, "Say, Bunch,
will you sell the old homestead?"
Bunch stopped laughing and looked me over from head to foot. "Is
this on the level or simply another low tackle?"
"It's the goods," I answered: "I simply can't frighten, coax,
scare, drive or push my home companions away from your property, so
I'd like to buy it if you're game to cut the cards?"
"Been playing the lottery?" he snickered.
"No, but I have the Pierponts, all right, all right," I replied;
"will you put $14,000 in your kick and pass me over the baronial
estate?"
"Fourteen thousand!" Bunch repeated slowly. "Sure, I will. If you
can Morgan that amount I'll make good with the necessary documents,
and then you and your family troubles may sit around on fly paper
in Jiggersville for the rest of your natural lives for all I care."
I explained to Bunch that I wanted the deed made out in the name of
Peter Grant for the reason that Uncle Peter was a bigger farmer
than I, and in short order the preliminary arrangements were
completed to the satisfaction and relief of both parties concerned.
That evening I went back to Jiggersville feeling as light as a pin
feather on a young duck.
Uncle Peter could have the property; Bunch could buy his sister
another castle, and I was ahead of the game just $6,000, more than
enough to square me for all the green paper I had torn up at the
track.
Of course, it did look as though Uncle Peter had been whipsawed,
but when I considered the bundles the old gentleman had stored away
in the vaults, and when I remembered his eagerness to cough, I
simply couldn't produce one pang of conscience.
Two days later Bunch had a certified check for $14,000 and Uncle
Peter was the happy owner of the country estate.
"We will live with you and Aunt Martha a little while," I said to
him; "but if you have no objection I'd like to buy a small lot down
near the brook from you and build a bit of a cage there for
ourselves."
Uncle Peter chuckled affirmatively, but seemed unwilling to
continue the subject further. "Isn't it glorious out here," he
smiled. "Pure air, fresh from the bakery of Heaven! I have
younged myself ten years since we came out here. Yesterday I fell
in a bear trap which Tacks had dug and carefully concealed with
brush and leaves. It took me four hours to get out because I'm
rather stout, but the exercise surely did me good."
Can you beat him?
A week later the second anniversary of our wedding would roll
around, and although Clara J. was a trifle hard to win over, I
finally coaxed her to let me have Bunch out to spend a few hours
with us on that occasion.
At the appointed hour Bunch arrived and Clara J. greeted him with
every word of that telegram darting forth darkly from her eyes.
"Mrs. John," said Bunch, "I'm simply delighted to know you. I've
often heard your husband speak well of you."
She had to smile in spite of herself.
"Mrs. John," Bunch went on, with splendid assurance; "you should be
proud of this matinee idol husband of yours, for, to tell you the
truth, he's all the goods--he certainly is."
Clara J. looked somewhat embarrassed, and as for me, I was away out
to sea in an open boat. I hadn't the faintest idea what Bunch was
driving at.
"You surely have a wonderful influence over him," the lad with the
blarney continued. "A week or so ago I threw some bait at him just
to test him and he didn't even nibble. You know, in the old days
John and I often trotted in double harness to the track--bad place
for young men--sure!"
Bunch surveyed the property with a quick glance and said, "Yes, I
sent John a telegram. 'The two queens will be out this afternoon,'
I wired, meaning two horses that simply couldn't lose. 'They are
good girls, so treat them white,' I told him, meaning that he
should put up his roll on them and win a hatfull; but, Mrs. John, I
never touched him. He simply ignored my telegram and sat around in
the hammock all day, reading a novel, I suppose. I apologize to
you, Mrs. John, for trying to drag him away from the path of
rectitude, but, believe me, I didn't know when I sent the message
that he had promised you to give the ponies the long farewell!"
Clara J. laughed with happiness, all her doubts dispersed, and
said, "Oh, don't mention it, Mr. Bunch! I'm simply delighted to
welcome you to our new home. You have never been out here before,
have you?"
Bunch glanced at me, then through the open front door in the
direction of the scene of his downfall, and said, hesitatingly,
"Never before, thank you, kindly!"
Good old Bunch. He had squared me with my wife and the world--oh,
well, some day, perhaps, I'd get a chance to even up.
"John," he said, a few minutes later, when we took a short stroll
around the place. "Now that I've started in to tell the whole
truth I musn't skip a paragraph. This is a pleasant bit of
property, but the solemn fact remains that I put the boots to you.
I gave you the gaff for $6,000, old friend, and it breaks my heart
to tell you that I'm not sorry. Bunch for Number One, always!"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"This farm only cost me $8,000," he said, giving me the pitying
grin.
"It cost me $14,000 and I sold it for $20,000," I said, slowly.
We stopped and shook hands.
"Who's the come-on?" he asked, presently.
"Uncle Peter," I answered, "but the old boy has so much he has to
kick a lot of it out of the house every once in a while, so it's
all right."
After dinner we were all sitting on the piazza listening to a
treatise from Uncle Peter on the subject of the growth and proper
care of wheat cakes, or asparagus, I forget which, when suddenly
the cadaverous form of the Sherlock Holmes of Jiggersville appeared
before us.
"Evenin' all!" bowed Harmony Diggs, clinging tightly to a bundle
which he held under his arm.
"Find that robber yet?" inquired Bunch, winking at me.
"That's just what I dropped around for to tell you, thinkin' maybe
you'd be kinder interested in knowin' the facts in the case,"
Harmony went on, carefully placing the precious bundle on the steps.
"I got a clue from this here gent," he said, pointing a bony finger
at Bunch, "and I ups and chases that there maleyfactor for four
miles, well knowin' that the cause of justice would suffer and the
reward of fifty dollars be nil and voidless if the critter got
away. But I got him, by crickey, I got him!"
He looked from one to the other, seeking a sign of applause, and
Bunch said, "Where did you catch him?"
"About four miles yonder," Diggs explained, indefinitely. "It was
a fierce fight while it lasted, but they ain't no maleyfactor
livin' can escape the clutches of these here hands oncet they
entwines him. I pulled the dem cuss out of his clothes!"
With this thrilling announcement he opened the bundle and proudly
displayed the burglar harness which Bunch had worn on that
memorable night.
"And the burglar himself?" Bunch questioned.
Diggs raised his head slowly, and with theatrical effect answered,
"I give the cussed scoun'rel the doggonest drubbin' a mortal
maleyfactor ever got and let him go. That was nearly two weeks
ago, and he ain't showed up since, dag him!"
"You win, Mr. Ananias!" said Bunch, handing Diggs a ten dollar
bill, as he whispered to me, "That story is worth the money."
"What's that for?" inquired Diggs, somewhat taken aback.
"That's my contribution to the reward for the robber," Bunch told
him.
"Well," spluttered Diggs; "it don't seem zactly right, seein' as
how I on'y pulled the cuss out of his clothes and then let him go
with a lambastin'."
"The ten-spot is for the clothes you pulled him out of," Bunch
said, picking up the garments and handing them to me. "Keep them,
John, as a souvenir of your first burglar--and true friend, Bunch!"
I took them reverently, and said, "For your sake, Bunch, they'll be
handed down from generation to generation."
Clara J. blushed and said, "Oh, John!" and I thought Uncle Peter
would chuckle himself into a delirium.
"Good-night, Mr. Ananias!" Bunch called, as Diggs made a farewell
bow and turned to go.
"Good-night, one and all," replied Diggs, then a thought struck him
and he turned with, "Say, who's this here Mr. Annienias? Seems
like the name's familiar, but it ain't mine."
"Mr. Ananias is the first detective mentioned in history," Bunch
explained, and Mr. Diggs beamed over us all.
"Wait a moment, Mr. Officer," Aunt Martha piped in; "have a drop of
refreshment before you go. Tacks, run in and pour Mr. Officer a
drink from that bottle on the sideboard!"
Diggs stood there swallowing his palate in delightful anticipation
until Tacks handed him a brimming glass from which the brave
thief-taker took one eager mouthful, whereupon he emitted a shriek
of terror that could be heard for miles.
"Water! water! quick! I'm a'burnin' up!" cried the astonished
Diggs.
Uncle Peter in his eagerness to quench the flames poured half a
pitcher full of ice water down the back of Diggs' neck.
"It ain't there, it's down my throat!" yelled the unfortunate
Harmony, whereupon Uncle Peter poured the rest of the ice water
over the constable's head.
When, finally, the old fellow was revived he faintly declined any
more refreshment, and with a sad "good-night," faded away in the
twilight.
"Gee!" exclaimed Tacks, as he watched the retreating form, "I'm
afraid I upset some tobascum sauce in that glass by mistake."
Presently, Bunch went off to the depot to take a train back to the
city, and for some little time we sat in silence on the piazza.
"Grand, isn't it?" Uncle Peter said, breaking the spell. "Couldn't
be any nicer, now, could it?" Then he went over and stood near
Clara J.
"Little woman," he said; "ever since we first talked of moving out
here I noticed how worried John was."
"So did I," she answered, taking my hand in hers.
"A day or two ago I found out what the trouble was," the old
gentleman continued; "this property was too heavy a load for a
young man to carry, especially when he's just married, so I bought
it from him!"
Before Clara J. could express a word Uncle Peter put his arm around
Aunt Martha's waist and continued, "Aunt Martha and I talked it all
over last night and in celebration of your second anniversary we
want you to accept this little present," and with this he placed a
document in Clara J.'s hands.
"It's the deed to the property," Aunt Martha said, "all for you,
Clara J., but if you don't mind, we'd like to live here!"
"Yes," said Uncle Peter; "that garden certainly needs someone to
look after it!"
Clara J. was crying softly and hugging Aunt Martha,
My own eyes were damp and I yearned to have somebody run the lawn
mower over me.
"I'll race you down to the gate and back," I suggested.
"You're on," laughed Uncle Peter; "I believe I do need a little
exercise!"