THE MESSAGE CROAKER BROUGHT
"Missus Wilson, where's Billy?"
Mrs. Wilson turned to the door, wiped her red face on her apron, and
finished emptying a pan of hot cookies into the stone crock, before
answering, sternly:
"He's down to the far medder, watchin' the gap, Maurice. Don't you
go near him."
"No ma'am, I won't. Jest wondered where he was, that's all."
"I 'low you're tryin' to coax him away fishin' er somethin'."
"Oh, no ma'am. I gotta get right back home to Ma. She's not very
well, an' she'll be needin' me."
"Fer land sakes! you don't say so, Maurice. Is she very bad?" The
tones were sympathetic now. Maurice nodded, and glanced longingly at
the fresh batch of brown cookies.
"She was carryin' the big meat-platter on her arm an' she fell with
her arm under her--an' broke it."
"Lord love us!" Mrs. Wilson started to undo her apron. "Why didn't
you tell me before, you freckle-faced jackass, you! Lord knows what
use you boys are anyways! Think of you, hangin' 'round here askin'
fer Billy and your poor Ma at home groanin' in pain an' needin' help.
Ain't you 'shamed of yourself?"
"Yes ma'am," admitted Maurice cheerfully. "I guess I should'a told
you first off but Ma she said if you was busy not to say anythin'
'bout her breakin' it."
"Well, we'll see about that. No neighbor in this here settlement is
ever goin' to say that Mary Wilson ever turned her back on a
feller-bein's distress. I'll go right over to your place with you
now, Maurice. Come along."
Mrs. Wilson was outside, by this time, and tying on her sun-bonnet.
Maurice held back. She grasped his arm and hustled him down the walk.
"Is it broke bad, Maurice?" she asked anxiously.
Maurice, peering about among the trees, answered absently.
"Yes ma'am. I guess she'll never be able to use it ag'in."
"Oh pity sake! Let's hurry."
Maurice was compelled to quicken his steps in order to keep up to the
long strides of the anxious woman. Suddenly he halted. "Missis
Wilson," he said, "you fergot to take that last pan o' cookies out'a
the oven."
The woman raised her hands in consternation.
"So I did," she exclaimed. "You stay right here an' I'll go back and
take it out now."
"Let me go," said Maurice quickly. "I know jest how to do it an' kin
get through in less'n half the time it'll take you."
"Well, run along then. I best keep right on. Your poor Ma'll be
needin' me."
Maurice was off like a shot. As he rounded the house on a lope he
ran into Billy, coming from the opposite direction. Billy's cotton
blouse was bulging. In one hand he carried the smoking bake-pan, in
the other a fat cookie deeply scalloped on one side.
"Where you goin' so fast, Maurice?" he accosted, his mouth full.
Maurice glanced fearfully over his shoulder. "Hush, Bill. If your
Ma happens to come back here it'll go bad with me."
Billy held out the pan to his chum and waited until Maurice had
filled his pockets. Then he asked: "Where's she gone?"
"Over to our place. I told her about Ma fallin' an' breakin' the
meat-platter, an' I guess she misunderstood. She tried to take me
along with her. I had an awful time to get 'way from her."
Billy laughed. "Gee! Ma's like that. Nobody gets 'way from her
very easy. Here, fill your shirt with the rest o' these cookies, an
I'll take the pan back; then we'll be goin'."
"Fish ought'a bite fine today," said Maurice as he stowed the cookies
away in his bosom.
"You bet. The wind's south. Have you got the worms dug?"
"Yep. They're in a can in my pocket. Did Croaker come back?" he
inquired, as the two made their way down the path.
"Sure he came back. He's a wise crow, that Croaker, an', Oh gosh!
don't he hate Ma, though! He gets up in a tree out o' reach of her
broom, an' jest don't he call her names in crow talk? Ma says she'll
kill him if ever she gets close enough to him an' she will, too."
"Well sir, I nigh died when I seen him settin' on our winder-sill,"
laughed Maurice. "We was havin' mornin' prayer; the new teacher was
at our place an' he was prayin'. Croaker strutted up an' down the
sill, peerin' in an' openin' an' shuttin' his mouth like he was
callin' that old hawk-faced teacher every name he could think of. I
saw he had a paper tied 'round his neck so I crawled on my hands an'
knees past Ma, an' slipped out. If Ma hadn't been so deef, she'd
have heard me an' nabbed me sure."
Billy chuckled. "Then you got my message off of Croaker, Maurice?"
"Yep; but by jinks! I had a awful time guessin' what you meant by
them marks you made on the paper. Darn it all, Bill, why can't you
write what you want'a say, instead of makin' marks that nobody kin
understan'?"
"There you go, ag'in," cried Billy. "How many times have I gotta
tell you, Maurice, that Trigger Finger Tim never used writin'. He
used symbols--that's what he used. Do you know what a symbol is, you
poor blockhead?"
[Illustration: Bill's message]
"I should say I do. It's a brass cap what women use to keep the
needle from runnin' under their finger-nail."
"Naw, Maurice. A symbol is a mark what means somethin'. Have you
got that message I sent you? Well, give it here an' I'll show you.
Now then, you see them two marks standin' up 'longside each other?"
"Yep."
"Well, what do you think they stand fer?"
"I thought maybe you meant 'em fer a couple of trees, Bill."
"Well I didn't. Them two marks are symbols, signifyin' a gap."
"A gap? Hully Gee!"
"Yep, an' this here animal settin' in that gap, what you think it is?"
Maurice shook his head. "It's maybe a cow!" he guessed hopefully.
"Nope, it's a dog. Now then, you see these two boys runnin' away
from the gap?"
"Gosh, is that what they be, Bill? Yep, I see 'em."
"Well, that's me an' you. Now then, what you s'pose I meant by them
symbols? I meant this. _I've gotta watch gap. Fetch your dog over
an' we'll set him to watch it, an' we'll skin out an' go fishin'._"
Maurice whistled. "Well I'll be jiggered!" he exclaimed. "I wish't
I'd knowed that. Say, tell you what I'll do. I'll sneak up through
the woods an' whistle Joe over here now."
"No, never mind. I bribed Anse to watch that gap fer me."
"What did you have t' give him?"
"Nuthin'. Promised I wouldn't tell him no ghost stories fer a week
if he'd help me out."
They had topped a wooded hill and were descending into a wide green
valley, studded with clumps of red willows and sloping towards a
winding stretch of pale green rushes through which the white face of
the creek flashed as though in a smile of welcome. Red winged
blackbirds clarioned shrilly from rush and cat-tail. A brown bittern
rose solemnly and made across the marsh in ungainly flight. A blue
crane, frogging in the shallows, paused in its task with long neck
stretched, then got slowly to wing, long pipe-stem legs thrust
straight out behind. A pair of nesting black ducks arose with soft
quacks and drifted up and out, bayward.
Billy, who stood still to watch them, was recalled suddenly to earth
by his companion's voice.
"Bill, our punt's gone!"
With a bound, Billy was beside him, and peering through the rushes
into the tiny bay in which they kept their boat.
"Well, Gee whitticker!" he exclaimed. "Who do you s'pose had the
nerve to take it?"
Maurice shook his head. "None of our gang 'ud take it," he said.
"Likely some of them Sand-sharks."
"That's so," Billy broke off a marsh-flag and champed it in his teeth.
Maurice was climbing a tall poplar standing on the bank of the creek.
"I say, Billy," he cried excitedly. "There she is, jest 'round the
bend. They've beached her in that piece of woods. It's Joe LaRose
an' Art Shipley that took her, I'll bet a cookie. They're always
goin' 'cross there to hunt fer turtle's eggs."
"Then come on!" shouted Billy.
"Where to?"
"Down opposite the punt. I'm goin' t' strip an' swim across after
her."
Maurice dropped like a squirrel from the poplar. "An' leave them
boat thieves stranded?" he panted. "Oh gosh! but won't that serve
'em right!"
"Let's hustle," urged Billy. "They may come back any minute."
They ran quickly up the valley, Billy unfastening his few garments as
they ran. By the time Billy had reached the bend he was in readiness
for the swim across. Without a thought of the long
leeches--"blood-suckers" the boys called them--which lay on the oozy
bottom of the creek's shallows ready to fasten on the first bare foot
that came their way, he waded out toward the channel.
"Bill, watch out!" warned Maurice. "There's a big womper coiled on
that lily-root. You're makin' right fer it."
"I see it," returned Billy. "I guess I ain't scared of no snakes in
these parts."
"But this beggar is coiled," cried his friend. "If he strikes you,
he'll rip you wide open with his horny nose. Don't go, Bill."
"Bah! he's uncoilin', Maurice; he'll slip off, see if he don't.
There, what did I tell you?" as the long mottled snake slid softly
into the water. "You can't tell me anythin' 'bout wompers."
"But what if a snappin'-turtle should get hold of your toe?"
shuddered Maurice.
"Shut up!" Billy commanded. "Do you want them Sand-sharks to hear
you? You keep still now, I'm goin' after our punt."
Billy was out in mid stream now, swimming with swift, noiseless
strokes toward the boat. Just as he reached it the willows along
shore parted and two boys, both larger than himself, made a leap for
the punt. Billy threw himself into the boat and as the taller of the
two jumped for it his fist shot out and caught him fairly on the jaw.
He toppled back half into the water. Billy seized the paddle and
swung it back over his shoulder. The other boy halted in his tracks.
Another moment and the punt was floating out in midstream.
LaRose had crawled to shore and sat dripping and sniffling on the
bank.
"Now, maybe the next time you boat-thieves find a punt you'll think
twice afore you take it," shouted Billy.
"How're we goin' to get back 'cross the crick?" whined the vanquished
LaRose.
"Swim it, same's I did," Billy called back.
"But the snakes an' turtles!" wailed the marooned pair.
"You gotta take a chance. I took one." Billy urged the punt forward
across the creek to where the grinning and highly delighted Maurice
waited.
"Jump in here, an' let's get fishin'."
Maurice lost no time. "Where'll we go, Bill?"
"Up to the mouth. There's green bass up there an' lots of small
frogs, if we need 'em, fer bait."