The little party gathered on the porch again after tea, and amused
themselves with conversation while waiting till the setting of the sun,
and the fading away of the twilight should give a better opportunity
for the display of the fireworks.
“I fancy,” remarked Mr. Austin, half-interrogatively, half in
assertion, “that our present sovereign is more highly appreciated in
America than was her royal grandfather George the Third?”
“There is no comparison,” replied Captain Raymond. “Americans highly
appreciated your queen’s kindly expressed sympathy in the sad days of
our poor Garfield’s suffering, and she has many admirers among us.”
Just then Mr. Riggs came up the path from the front gate, and greeting
the company, “Good-evenin’, cap’n, Mr. Austin, and young folks,” took a
seat in their midst.
“Well, we’ve had a riglar old-time glorious Fourth,” he went on,
addressing no one in particular, “on’y ’tisn’t done yit, thank fortin’,
an’ I’ve come round to see them fireworks set off. The folks did turn
out copiously this mornin’, and I don’t mistrust that they won’t do it
agin to-night.”
“Of course they will. Who wouldn’t turn out to see fireworks?”
It was the squeaky little voice again right behind his chair, as on the
former occasion.
He sprang up as if he had been shot, faced about, and with a scared
look asked, “Why, where is he—the old raskil?”
“Rascal, indeed! I’m no rascal, sir, but a patriotic, honest American
citizen.”
It was the squeaky voice again, and this time sounded a trifle farther
off, as if the speaker might be descending the porch steps; but though
distinctly heard, he could not be seen.
“Well, now, if it isn’t the beatenest thing! I wonder ef I’m a-gittin’
crazy!” exclaimed Riggs, staring wildly round from side to side. “You
all heered him, didn’t ye? but has anybody seen the raskilly feller?”
The Austins and Mr. Short were struck dumb with astonishment; the
Raymonds did not speak either, but the next moment a loud, “Ha, ha,
ha!” coming apparently from among the branches of the nearest tree, was
followed by the squeaky voice:
“You can’t see me? That’s only because you don’t look in the right
place; I’m big enough to be seen by the naked eye, even at a
considerable distance.”
“But ye’r always playing at hide and seek,” said Riggs, “and a body
can’t never find ye.”
“Why who is he? and where is he?” queried Albert, staring up into the
tree; “his voice seems to come from among those branches, but I see
nothing there.”
“It is growing dark,” remarked Captain Raymond in reply.
“Yes, sir; but still I think I could see a man or boy if he were really
there.”
“Come up on to the porch roof, all of you,” called the voice, now
seeming to come from there; “it’ll be the best place to see the
fireworks from.”
“It is time to begin setting them off; isn’t it, papa?” asked Lulu.
“Yes,” he said, and Max, springing down the steps and the walk to the
gate, in another minute had sent up a sky-rocket, and as it darted
skyward the same squeaky voice cried out from the upper air, “Up I go!”
“There, did ye hear that?” screamed Riggs. “He’s gone up with the
rocket. He must be a wizard.”
“Ha! there is certainly a ventriloquist among us!” exclaimed Mr. Austin.
“I agree with you,” said the captain, “it is the only rational
explanation of the phenomenon.”
“And it is yourself, sir?”
“No, sir; if I have any talent in that line it remains to be discovered
by myself even.”
And without waiting for further embarrassing questions, the captain
hurried to Max’s assistance.
Mr. Short did likewise, and for the next hour or more the display of
the fireworks absorbed the attention of every one present, almost to
the exclusion of thoughts on other matters.
It was quite a fine display—for the captain had been generous in his
outlay for the celebration of the Fourth, and many were the expressions
of delight and admiration from the crowd of spectators who had gathered
to witness it.
There were rockets, squibs, Roman candles, Bengal lights, Catherine
wheels, and others of more complicated structure, some of which sent
out figures of men and animals.
One of these Max reserved for the last, and as a tiny figure of a man
issued from the brilliant coruscation and darted upward, it cried out
in the squeaky little voice that had troubled Mr. Riggs so often,
“Good-by; I’m off!”
“There the feller is at last. I seen him this time,” screamed the old
man. “Now did ye ever? how did he git in there? and how did he git out?”
The faces of the crowd were full of surprise and perplexity as they
first gazed upward, then turned toward each other in half-breathless
astonishment.
“There is a ventriloquist among us,” repeated Mr. Austin; “there must
be, without doubt.”
“Ven—ven—what is it anyway?” asked Riggs.
“Ventriloquist; one who can speak without moving his lips, and cause
his voice to seem to come from somewhere outside of himself; from some
person or animal, or place near at hand or farther off.”
“You don’t say. I never heered o’ sech doins!” exclaimed Riggs. While
several others standing near cried out, “A ventriloquist. Is there one
here? If there is, let him give us some more of his tricks. We’d like
no better fun.”
“Just you keep quiet then, all of you, and perhaps he will,” said Mr.
Short, who, though he knew nothing absolutely in regard to the matter,
began to have strong suspicions that Captain Raymond could tell all
about it if he would.
A short, sharp bark, that seemed to come from the coat-pocket of the
speaker, made him start involuntarily and thrust his hand deep into it.
He drew it out with a laugh. “Nothing there, as I might have known,” he
said.
But the words were hardly out of his mouth when a loud, furious
barking, growling and snarling began in the midst of the crowd,
causing them to scatter pell-mell to the sidewalks, women and children
screaming, men and boys shouting, bursts of laughter following, as they
perceived that the cause of their fright was but another trick of the
ventriloquist.
“Who is he! who is he!” was the question bandied from one to another,
but answered by no one.
“Hoo, hoo, hoo!” came from amid the branches of a tree in Mrs.
McAlpine’s yard.
It sounded like the cry of an owl, but was followed by a human voice,
“Good-night, friends. We have had a glorious Fourth, and now it is time
to go home and to bed.”
“That means the show is done for to-night, I s’pose,” remarked Riggs,
“and we may as well git fer home. But I just wisht I could find out who
the feller is,” he mumbled to himself, as he moved down the street.
The crowd dispersed and the Raymonds retired to their own apartments.
“Oh, Max, how good it is that nobody’s found you out yet?” laughed Lulu
gleefully.
“I’m glad they haven’t,” returned Max. “Papa, did I do anything
objectionable?”
“I have no fault to find with you, my boy,” his father replied, with a
slight smile and a very affectionate look at his son.