HUNTING FOR THE THING YOU MUSN'T THINK ABOUT
When he had gone a long way, Bobby crossed the road and crawled under
the fence into the field beyond. He tried so hard not to think about
the thing he was searching for that he forgot all about the fact that
it had been hours since dinner and that the sun's bedtime could not be
so very far off. One can't remember _everything_ when trying so hard
not to think of _one_ thing. He _wasn't_ thinking of that--only of the
presents Richard had received, and _that_ wasn't the same!
He trudged on till his short legs grew weary, always looking down at
the ground and stepping, oh, so lightly! He was startled when a big
gruff voice suddenly boomed out right in front of him:
"Hullo, Bub! What're you doin' out here?"
Bobby was so astounded that he blurted out the truth without thinking.
"Hunting for my birthdays."
"Huntin' for your birthday, huh? Well, now, what do you think of that,
Steve?" And the rough, bearded man who had spoken to him, winked
prodigiously at the youth who was helping him mend a broken place in
the fence.
"Where'd-ja lose it?" asked the youth.
"Don't know," confessed Bobby.
"That's a funny thing to lose," said the rough, bearded man. "Sure you
had one?"
"Don't perzactly 'member," replied Bobby. Then a dreadful thought came
to him: he was _thinking_ about his birthdays! "Please, I musn't not
think about it."
The bearded man burst out laughing.
"You're a funny codger! Huntin' for something you mustn't think about!
What do you think of that, Steve?"
Steve didn't think very highly of the matter, Bobby was sure from the
way he laughed.
"Does your mother know you're out?" asked Steve, and in turn exchanged
another prodigious wink with the man with whiskers.
"Ain't not got any mothers," said Bobby.
"Oh," said the bearded man in a different voice, "you're one of the
kids old man Eller has out to his place."
"Yes'm," Bobby admitted and began to back away. These men were making
fun of him and he felt uncomfortable, and they had made him _think_
of his birthdays! He had taken only a few backward steps when a big
pleasant voice behind him made him jump.
"Quite a ways from home, aren't you, son?"
"I'm hunting my----," but Bobby remembered just in time and stopped.
"Yes'm," he added and turned to look up into a pair of friendly blue
eyes and at lips that smiled under a blond mustache that curled up at
the ends. The man put a hand on Bobby's shoulder and drew him closer.
"Lost, are you? Well, we'll soon fix that. What is your name?"
"No'm," said Bobby, trying to answer the man's questions in order.
"No'm! That's a funny name!" exclaimed the man and laughed till his
eyes all crinkled up.
"No'm's not my name!" laughed Bobby. "No'm, I'm not lost, I'm
hunting----" Again he remembered just in time and stopped.
"That's a secret, is it? Is your name, too?"
"Bobby North," he replied and smiled up at this man who laughed at him
without making fun of him.
"Where do you live?"
"Way off--_there_," replied Bobby, pointing over the tops of the trees.
"Oh, up there! You've chosen a fine home--"
"He's one of the kids at Eller's place, Mr. Anning," interrupted the
man with the whiskers.
"He's huntin' for his birthday which he was careless enough to lose,"
added Steve.
"Was not care-_less_!" Denied Bobby and that unsteady lower lip began
to tremble.
"Of course you were not careless," said the man with the mustache.
"Somebody just forgot to tell you. Here, take this."
He put his hand in his pocket and drew it out full of money. He
selected a large shining white piece and put it in Bobby's hand.
"Here's a quarter for you. Now it will soon be sundown and you'd better
make tracks for Mr. Eller's. Know how to find it?"
"Thank you," said Bobby, clutching the quarter and not forgetting what
the Supe'tendent told him to say whenever anybody gave him anything.
Then, after a time, he remembered the man's question and he replied to
it. "Yes'm."
"That's it--that house way over there on the other side of the road,"
said the man. "Keep your eyes on the house and you can't miss it."
"Yes'm," said Bobby and started off.
"Here," called the man, "Wait a minute. Here's a quarter for you." He
drew out another handful of money and selected another shining white
quarter, only it was not so shiny as the other one. "Now skeedaddle for
Mr. Eller's."
Forgetting to thank the man for the second quarter, Bobby started off,
keeping his eyes fixed on the house. When he had gone a long ways he
turned and looked back. The Man with the Pocketful of Quarters waved to
him, and Bobby, after waving, too, set resolutely onwards for the house
far off across the road.
Now it's hard to remember just what you a going to do when one is a
very little boy and has just been given two whole quarters all for his
very own, particularly if the disturbing thought _will_ come to you
that you can have lots and lots of quarters and other things given to
you if you have birth--the thing you musn't think about.
That reminded Bobby; he was sure that he hadn't stepped on _It_ while
he wasn't thinking or he would have felt it under his foot as he
did the spoon. Perhaps it might be somewhere along this mysterious,
inviting white road, all covered with dust and lined with trees and
bushes, that wound away further than anyone could see. It might be just
beyond that turn; there where the meadow lark went sailing happily up
into the sky. He would go there and look.
Dragging his toes in the dust to see if his lost birthdays might be
covered up there, Bobby gained the turn in the road, and the next one,
and the one beyond that, and still trudged on, his short legs aching
and stumbling. He _wasn't_ thinking about the thing he musn't think
about! Why didn't he feel it under his feet? Perhaps because the water
wasn't in his eyes so he couldn't see, as it had been when he stepped
on the spoon. He began to fear he couldn't go much farther. Still he
kept on.
Then suddenly the sun went entirely to bed. Bobby began to be
frightened for he had never been out all alone with the darkness.
When it's all dark, little boys can't tell what other things may be
about. His lip began to tremble and now the water _did_ come into his
eyes. That interested him; it was so when he stepped on the spoon; it
might be that he would find his--what he was looking for--now, and he
stumbled on through the dust and the gathering darkness towards the
next turn in the road.
As he toiled on, he became conscious of a gentle purring sound behind
him that kept getting louder and louder. He was almost at the turn when
there came a fierce honking right behind him. Blinded by the water in
his eyes, he could but dimly see a great black mysterious object almost
on him when he turned. He was too frightened to move. The thing came to
a sudden stop just a few feet from him and he saw that it was only a
'mobile. A rough, young voice cried:
"Don't you know enough to get out of the road when you hear a car
coming, you little--"
"James! You might have struck him!" cried a sweet, frightened voice
from the body of the 'mobile. "We ought not to have tried to make home
without having the lights on."
"Don't stand there in the way like a----" the rough, young voice began,
but the woman's voice interrupted:
"The child is crying! Open the door, James."
Before he knew what she was going to do, the lady was kneeling right
in the dust of the road by his side. She put her arms about him and
drew his head against her breast. It was so soft and warm there and so
_safe_ that Bobby cried all the harder for very relief and his arms
stole about the neck of the lady until his fingers got tangled in her
soft hair.
"I _do_ believe the child is lost," said the lady and gathered Bobby up
in her arms and carried him into the 'mobile. "Light the lamps, James,"
she added from the depths of the black-cushioned seat.
James, who wore a pair of big glasses that almost hid his face, turned
on the lights, and, through his tears, Bobby soon saw two beams of
light spurt out on the road ahead.
"Tell me your name, won't you?" begged a low voice close to Bobby's ear.
He struggled to control his sobs enough to answer.
"I like little boys," added the voice coaxingly.
"B-B-Bob-b-by," he said at last, nestling closer in those protecting
arms.
"He's so tired he's falling asleep," said the voice which was the
sweetest Bobby had ever heard.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]