FACING THE MUSIC
There was a stir of anticipation among the boys, and they crowded
closer, as Teddy faced his angry relative.
"Jiminy, but he's going to catch it!" whispered Jim.
"You bet he will. I wouldn't like to be him," agreed Jack, more
fervently than grammatically.
His uncle looked at Teddy sourly.
"I'm not a bit surprised," he growled. "From the minute I saw you on the
bank I felt sure you were mixed up in this some way or other. You'd feel
nice now, if you'd killed your uncle, wouldn't you?"
Poor Teddy, who did not look the least like a murderer and had never
longed to taste the delights of killing, stammered a feeble negative.
"Why did you do it?" went on his merciless cross-examiner. "Didn't you
see the stage coming? Why didn't you bat the other way?"
The culprit was silent.
"Come," said his uncle sharply, "speak up now! What's the matter with
you? Are you tongue-tied?"
"You see, it was this way," Teddy began, and stopped.
"No," said his uncle, "I don't see at all."
"Well," Teddy broke out, desperately, goaded by the sarcasm to full
confession, "I was batting flies to the fellows, and one of them said I
couldn't hit anything, and I wanted to show him that he was wrong, and
just then I saw the coach coming, and I took aim at the gray horse. I
didn't think anything about his running away--I'd never seen him run
hard, anyway--and--and--I guess that's all," he ended, miserably.
"No, it ain't all, not by a long sight!" ejaculated Jed, who had been
especially stung by the slur on his faithful gray. "Not much, it ain't
all! So, yer did it on puppose, did yer? I might have s'spicioned from
the fust thet you was at the bottom of this rascality. They ain't
anything happened in this town fur a long time past thet you ain't been
mixed up in.
"I'm mortal sure," he went on, haranguing his audience and warming up at
the story of his wrongs, "thet it was this young varmint thet painted my
hosses with red, white and blue stripes, last Fourth of July. I jess had
time to harness up to get to the train in time, when I found it out, and
I didn't have time to get the paint off before I started. And there was
the people in Main Street laffin' fit ter kill themselves, and the
loafers at the deepo askin' me why I didn't paint myself so as to match
the hosses. It took me nigh on two days before I could get it off, and
the hosses smelt of benzine fur more than a week. Ef I could a ketched
the feller what done it, I'd 'a' taken it out of his hide, but I never
had no sartin proof. Howsumever, I knowed pooty well in my own mind who
done it," and he glared vindictively at Teddy.
But Teddy had already done all the confessing he cared to do for one
day, and the author of Jed's unwilling Fourth of July display was still
to remain a mystery.
Far more important to Teddy than Jed's threats was the wrath of his
uncle, who stood looking at him with a severity before which Teddy's
eyes fell.
"And you mean to tell me," said Mr. Aaron Rushton slowly, "you have the
nerve to stand there and tell me that you actually aimed at that
horse--that you deliberately----"
"No, not deliberately, Uncle Aaron," interrupted Fred, who had been
trying to get in a word for his brother, and now seized this opening.
"He didn't think of what he was doing. If he had, he wouldn't have done
it. He didn't have any idea the horses would run away. Teddy wouldn't
hurt----"
"You keep still, Fred," and his uncle turned on him savagely. "When I
want your opinion, I'll ask you for it. If you weren't always making
excuses for him and trying to get him out of scrapes, he wouldn't get
into so many.
"Not another word," he went on, as Fred still tried to make things
easier for Teddy. "We'll finish this talk up at the house. I want your
father and mother to hear for themselves just how near this son of
theirs came to killing his uncle."
"I'll see if I can get a rig of some kind to carry you up," volunteered
Fred.
"Never mind that," answered his uncle shortly. "It isn't far, and I
don't want to wait. Bring that valise that you'll find in the coach
along with you. I want to get into some dry things as soon as possible.
Lucky it isn't a shroud, instead of regular clothes," and he shot a
glance at Teddy that made that youth shudder.
"As to the damage done to the coach and horses," Mr. Rushton said,
turning to Jed, who had been watching Teddy's ordeal with great
satisfaction and gloating over what was still coming to him when he
should reach home, "you need not worry about that. Either my brother or
I will see you to-morrow and fix things up all right."
"Thank yer, Mr. Rushton," mumbled Jed, as he mentally tried to reach the
very highest figure he would dare to charge, with any hope of getting
it. "I knowed you would do the right thing. I'm only sorry that you
should have so much trouble with that there young imp," and he shook his
head sorrowfully and heaved a sigh, as though he already saw ahead of
Teddy nothing but the gallows or the electric chair.
Nor could he forbear one parting shot at that dejected youth.
"Don't forget, young man, thet you may have to reckon with Uncle Sam
yet," he hinted, with evident relish, as the party prepared to move
away. "It ain't no joke to interfere with the United States mail and
them thet's carryin' it. The padlock on that mailbag was all bent and
bunged up when the stage smashed up against that tree. Course, I ain't
sayin' what may come of it, but them gover'ment folks is mighty tetchy
on them p'ints. They've got a big prison at Leavenworth and another at
Atlanta where they puts fellers that interferes with the mails in any
way, shape or manner. Oh, I know all about them places. I've traveled a
good deal in my time, and----"
But by this time, the uncle and nephews were well on their way up the
hill, and Jed had to save the rest of his discourse for his cronies that
evening at the general store.
The Rushton home stood on a beautiful elm-shaded street just beyond the
field where the boys had been playing ball. It was a charming,
up-to-date house, capacious and well arranged, and furnished with every
comfort. A broad, velvety lawn stretched out in front, and towering elms
threw their cool shadows over the roadway.
Around three sides of the house ran a hospitable veranda, with rugs and
rattan furniture that made of it one large outside room. Tables, on
which rested books and magazines, with here and there a vase of flowers
fresh cut from the garden, showed that the inmates of the house were
people of intelligence and refinement.
Mansfield Rushton, the boys' father, was one of the most prominent
citizens of Oldtown. He was a broker, with offices in a neighboring
city, to which he commuted. His absorption in his business and his
interest in large affairs left him less time and leisure than he would
have liked to devote to his family. He was jovial and easy-going, and
very proud of his two boys, to whom he was, in fact, perhaps too
indulgent. "Boys will be boys," was his motto, and many an interview,
especially with Teddy, that ought, perhaps, to have ended in punishment,
was closed only with the more or less stern injunction "not to do it
again."
His wife, Agnes, was a sweet, gracious woman, who, while she added
greatly to the charm and happiness of the household, did not contribute
very much to its discipline. She could be firm on occasion, and was not
as blind as the father to what faults the boys possessed. Although each
one of them was as dear to her as the apple of her eye, she by no means
adopted the theory that they could do no wrong. Like most mothers,
however, she was inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt, and it
was not hard to persuade her that they were "more sinned against than
sinning."
The Rushton system of household management, with love, rather than fear,
the ruling factor, was not without its critics. The boys' uncle, Aaron,
some years older than his brother Mansfield, and wholly different in
disposition, had been especially exasperated at it. On his occasional
visits to Oldtown he never tired of harping on his favorite proverb of
"spare the rod and spoil the child," and his predictions of Teddy's
future were colored with dark forebodings.
To be sure, he had never gone so far as to prophesy that Teddy's
mischief would ever come near killing any one. And yet, that was
precisely what had happened.
And as Aaron Rushton toiled up the hill the discomfort he felt from his
wet clothes was almost forgotten in the glow of satisfaction that at
last he had proved his theory. He would show Mansfield and Agnes that
even if he was a bachelor--as they had at times slyly reminded him--he
knew more about bringing up boys than they did.
The unsuspecting parents were sitting on the veranda, waiting for the
boys to come in to supper. The table was spread and waiting, and Mr.
Rushton had once or twice glanced impatiently at his watch.
"What on earth is keeping those boys?" he exclaimed. "Oh, here they are
now. But who's that with them? Why, it's Aaron! Great Scott! What's the
matter?" he cried, as he sprang up excitedly.
Mrs. Rushton uttered a little shriek as her eyes fell on the three
figures entering the gateway.