COPPER AND OLD BONES
Though Roger and Adrian knew little of the business connected with
mortgages and railroad shares, they realized nevertheless, that
something serious had occurred. Adrian never recalled seeing his father
look so helpless and worried but once before, and that had been when his
mother was dangerously ill. Mr. Kimball's face was pale, and his blue
eyes, usually so bright and snapping, were dull, and seemed to be gazing
at something far away.
For a moment after Mrs. Kimball's announcement no one spoke. Then, as a
man recovering from some heavy blow, the farmer straightened up, shook
himself like a big dog emerging from the water, and said:
"Wa'al, boys, it's true, jest's mother here says. It's bad news, sure
'nuff, 'n' I don't know when I've bin so knocked out. It's so suddint,
jest like one a' them heavy thunder claps thet comes on ye 'fore ye know
there's a storm brewin'."
"Is it very bad?" asked Adrian, softly. "Is all the money gone? Can't
you get any of it back?"
"Seems not, son. Leastwise ef I kin, it won't be soon 'nuff fer me,
'cause th' mortgage is agoin' t' be foreclosed, 'n' t' stave thet off
I've got t' hev ready cash. Ef either a' th' calamaties hed happened
one at a time, I could a' stood it, but havin' 'em both together kinder
flambusts me, thet's what it does. I'm reg'lar flambusted, thet's what I
be; flambusted, thet's it," and he sank down in a chair, muttering this
one word over and over.
Then, by degrees, Roger and Adrian gathered enough of the matter to
understand it somewhat. When Mr. Kimball purchased his farm, some years
ago, he did not have enough money to pay all of the price, and he gave a
mortgage for the balance, that being a paper, by the terms of which he
agreed, after a certain number of years, to pay the rest of the money
due or forfeit the farm.
As time went on he prospered with his crops and paid off some of the
mortgage. Then his father died and left him a neat sum of money. But
instead of using this to cancel the mortgage, Mr. Kimball was induced by
his brother Seth to invest it in the stock of a certain railroad. Seth
told him that there the money would earn good interest, and when the
time came to pay off the mortgage, Mr. Kimball could sell his railroad
stock and with the money settle the debt on his farm, with something
left.
This would have been a good plan if matters in the financial world
hadn't gone wrong just before Mr. Kimball was to draw his money from the
investment in the railroad shares. The mortgage was nearly due, and he
expected to pay it off. But there came a panic in the stock market, and
the shares the honest farmer had put his money in dropped below par, so
far, in fact, that it seemed hopeless ever to expect them to rise
again. And then, with all his money gone, to be informed that unless he
paid off the balance of the mortgage the farm would be taken from him
was blow enough to discourage any one.
"Wa'al," said Mr. Kimball, after a long silence, and with more
cheerfulness in his tones than his family had heard since he got the bad
news, "wa'al, there's no use cryin' over spilt milk, 'n' what can't be
cured must be endured. Th' money's gone, thet's sure. Now I'll hev t'
pitch in 'n' airn some more. I'm young yit. I guess I kin do it. Never
say die, 'n' don't guv up th' ship. Them's my mottoes," and he blew his
nose with a vigor that seemed to be uncalled for.
"It's turrible," spoke up Mrs. Kimball, "jest 's ye were gittin' ready
t' take things a leetle easier, Bert. It's a shame, thet's what 't is,
'n' ef I could see some a' them railroad directors I'd tell 'em so,
thet's what I would."
"Easy, easy," said Mr. Kimball. "It's tough luck, t' be sure, but from
what th' newspapers says, I ain't th' only one. There's lots went down
in the Wall Street crash. Plenty a' others lost their money. Th' thing
fer me 'n' you t' do now, is t' consider what's t' be done. No use
settin' down 'n' foldin' our hands. Cryin' never mended matters yit. I
must go t' th' city t' see Jackson 'bout th' mortgage. Ef he'll hold off
a bit mebby I kin straighten things out. Ef he won't--"
He didn't finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant.
"I'm hungry," announced Mr. Kimball, suddenly. "Why," looking at the
clock, "here 't is near seven, 'n' th' chores ain't done yit, 'n' no
table set."
"I didn't think any 'bout eatin'," said Mrs. Kimball, "but I'll git
supper right away."
She and Clara started to put the meal on, and in bustling about they
forgot for a time the bad news. Roger and Adrian went out to help lock
up the barn and various out-houses, to bed down the horses, and see that
everything was in good shape for the night.
"It's too bad, isn't it?" ventured Roger, noting his cousin's unusual
silence and guessing the cause.
"Well, as dad says, it might be worse," answered Adrian. "I'm going to
pitch in and help all I can."
"And I will too, as long as I'm here," said Roger heartily, and by
reason of this trouble the two boys felt more like brothers than
cousins.
"I don't s'pose there's much we can do though, Ade."
"I know how I can make considerable loose change," replied the country
boy. "If it wasn't so near winter I could clear twenty-five dollars
easy, and that'd pay some of the interest."
"How could you make twenty-five dollars?" asked Roger.
"I'll show you to-morrow. There goes the supper horn," and the two boys
hurried into the house.
If Roger expected the bad news to have any immediate effect on life at
his uncle's house, he was agreeably disappointed. He looked at the table
closely to see if there had been any change made in the quality or
quantity of the food, but the board seemed more bountifully spread than
ever. There were meat and potatoes, a big plate of salt-rising bread, a
large pat of sweet golden butter, cakes, cookies, preserves, cheese, and
some dark brown buckwheat honey, enough for a dozen hungry boys. Then
Roger felt his heart a little lighter when he saw there was no need to
put the household on short rations. Adrian too, appeared relieved when
he saw the well-spread table, and he gazed on it with a feeling of
thankfulness that things were not as bad as they might have been.
Under other circumstances there might have been a more cheerful party
gathered around the board, but then it is hard to be light-hearted when
trouble is in the air and when there are worries to be met. However, Mr.
Kimball did his best to shake off the feeling of gloom, and he really
succeeded so well that, before the meal was over, he had Roger laughing
at his recital of some of the queer doings of the people of Cardiff.
After supper, which was not finished until rather later than usual, Mr.
Kimball busied himself with various papers and account books. Roger and
Adrian feeling tired from their day's tramp went to bed, where, in spite
of the memory of the trouble hanging over the house, they slept soundly.
In the morning Mr. Kimball went to Syracuse by the early stage, and as
the hired man had to take a load of grapes to the city, the two boys
were left with the farm to themselves. There were a few chores to do,
which they made short work of, and then Adrian, taking a large bag from
the barn, started off across the fields.
"Where to now?" asked Roger.
"I told you I'd show you how to make a little money, didn't I?" said
Adrian. "This is one of the ways. I used to do it when I was a small
chap, but lately I haven't had much chance, so now I'm going to start in
again."
"What are you going to do?"
"Gather bones."
"Bones?"
"Yes, bones."
Roger thought his cousin was joking, but a look at the face of the
country lad convinced the city boy there was a serious purpose back of
the words.
"You see it's this way," explained Adrian. "Bones are good to make
fertilizer of, and there's a factory over to Tully where they buy 'em.
They pay half a cent a pound, and farmers that have lots of bones around
send 'em to the factory. But there's plenty of bones lying around loose
in the fields, and at the back doors of houses. When I was about ten
years old, me and Chot Ramsey used to make a half dollar, easy,
gathering up the old bones and selling 'em when the collecting wagon
came from Tully. That's what I'm going to do now. But I'm going to do it
different. I know a number of women folks that'll save their meat bones
for me if I ask 'em, and I'm going to. Besides collecting all I can
lying around loose, you see I'll have a sort of private supply to
collect from. But maybe you don't want to come along. It's not much fun,
but it's not dirty, for the bones are all clean ones."
"Of course I'll come along and help," said Roger. "Didn't I say I
would?"
It was rather a novel idea, this one of Adrian's, so Roger thought. But
plenty of country boys know the value of bones, though they may never
have taken the trouble to collect and sell them. Roger and Adrian
started off over the fields. The country lad seemed to know just where
to go, and, before proceeding far, he had come across several big beef
bones, clean and white.
They were tossed into the bag which the boys carried between them, slung
on a long pole. They visited several back-yards of houses, where Adrian
knew the people, and, when he had collected all the bones in sight, he
asked the women if they wouldn't save any more they might have, as he
would be around again in a week. Most of them promised, for they liked
the boy, who had often done favors for them.
"Just throw 'em in one place always, and I can gather 'em up every
week," said Adrian, at house after house.
Good luck seemed to be with the boys, for they found more bones than
ever Adrian had hoped for. The bag got so heavy they could hardly carry
it, and so were forced to make a trip back to the house, to get rid of
the load.
"We must have fifty pounds there," reckoned Adrian, proudly, as he piled
the contents of the bag in a heap back of the barn, "and there's fifty
more we can get to-day. Not bad for a start, eh, Roger? One hundred
pounds of fertilizer. That's fifty cents."
"I call it fine," said Roger. "But of course we can't expect to do as
well as this every day."
"No, we'll have to tramp farther for our next hundred pounds," agreed
Adrian, as they started off on their second trip.
They went over the fields and roads. The bag was almost full a second
time when Adrian, who had picked up a smooth, round stone to throw,
stopped short as it fell in the midst of some corn stubble, with a
resounding clang.
"That hit something," he declared, as he set off on a run, much to the
surprise of Roger. "Hurrah! I thought so," shouted Adrian a second
later, as he stooped over where he had seen the stone fall. He held up
to view a battered old wash-boiler.
"What good is that?" asked Roger.
"Good? Why, can't you see it has a copper bottom. Copper brings fifteen
cents a pound from the junk man, and there's three pounds here."
He caught up a heavy sharp rock and soon had cut and hammered the bottom
off the boiler, the upper part of which was of tin. The copper he beat
up into a compact mass and placed it in the bag with the bones. Then
having a pretty good load, the boys started home. On the way Adrian came
across a large bottle, which he picked up.
"I wish I knew where there were a lot of these," he remarked.
"Why?" asked Roger.
"'Cause George Bennett gives three cents apiece for large ones like
this. We must keep our eyes peeled for 'em as we go along."
And they did, but they found no more that day.
"Let's see," said Adrian, as they were washing up for dinner. "A hundred
pounds of bones is fifty cents, and we'll reckon forty cents for the
copper. With three cents for the bottle, that makes ninety-three cents
for the morning. My half is forty-six and a half cents; not bad for a
starter, eh?"
"Well, I guess you're a little wrong in the figuring," said Roger.
"How so?"
"Why, it's all yours. I won't take half. I'm only helping you in this. I
don't want any share."
"But you've got to take it."
"Well, I won't. It's all going into a general fund to help pay that
mortgage," said Roger, stoutly. "Probably we'll not get an awful lot,
but every little helps, and your father is going to have all my share."
"Well--well," began Adrian, somewhat affected by his cousin's offer, but
what he would have said was never known, for the dinner horn blew just
then, and the boys were so hungry they forgot everything else save their
appetites.
In the afternoon they picked more grapes, and neither of them suggested
stopping to rest or play. The fascination of business was on them, and
they seemed to have taken the responsibility of wanting to do all they
could.
"Might as well get a lot picked," suggested Adrian, as he and Roger
snipped away at the big bunches, "then dad can hurry to the city with
them while the price is high;" and they gathered the fruit as long as
they could see.
When Mr. Kimball returned home from the city that night he seemed to
feel a little easier than when he left. He told his wife, and the boys
overheard him, that he had succeeded in getting a delay of the mortgage
foreclosure until May first, and that would give him several months to
try to get the money together. True, it seemed but a respite, for there
was not much chance of his securing the cash, he said, since later news
of the failure of the railroad shares only confirmed the first report,
that they were gone beyond hope of ever getting anything from them. But
for all that, Mr. Kimball was hopeful. There was not much chance of
using the money he would get from the present crops, as that would be
needed for ordinary household expenses. Nevertheless the farmer found a
chance to laugh a little, and he was greatly pleased and touched when he
learned what the boys had done.
"We must hurry 'n' git th' rest a' th' grapes picked to-morrow," he
said. "Cold spell's a-comin', 'n' a frost'll nip 'em so they won't sell.
My! But I'm hungry, though, mother. Hungry's a b'ar. So we'll hev
supper, 'n' talk arterwards."
The meal progressed more pleasantly than the one of the night before,
and when it was over and the dishes and chores were done, they all took
their chairs in the "settin' room," as Mrs. Kimball called it. There
Clara played the organ, and the boys sang songs and hymns until it was
time to go to bed. Roger was tired with the day's experience, and he was
anxious, too, about his uncle. But this did not prevent him from
sleeping, and he dropped off, feeling that busy and exciting as his life
in the country had been, it had already done him good. But there were
more lively times ahead of him.