“THE HUSWICK TRIBE.”
RUNNING quickly behind walls and fences, the Huswick boys made a rapid
raid upon Peternot’s melon-patch, and left it loaded with spoils.
“Say, Dock!” said Hank (nickname for Henry), skulking behind some
bushes, “le’s put for Chatford’s orchard, and scatter rines by the way,
so if we’re tracked the old man’ll think ’t was the deacon’s boys hooked
his melons.”
“Go ahead!” said Dock (nickname for Jehoshaphat), carrying two fine ripe
melons on his left arm while he dug into one of them with a jack-knife
in his right hand. “Stoop, and keep clus to the fence!”
“No danger, old man’s gone to meetin’,” said Cub, whose real name was
Richard,—his odd shape (he was ludicrously short and fat) having
probably suggested the nickname.
“Me an’ Cub can go without stoopin’,” giggled Hod, the youngest
(christened Horace). “See Hank! he looks like a well-sweep!”
And indeed the second of the boys, who was as wonderfully tall and lank
as Cub was short and thick, bore no slight resemblance to that ornament
of country door-yards.
“Hanged if one o’ mine ain’t a green one!” exclaimed Tug (short for
Dwight), dashing to the ground a large watermelon, the sight of which in
ruins would have made old Peternot’s heart ache.
“Guess we made a clean sweep of all the ripe ones,” said Cub. “No, you
don’t!” as Tug offered to relieve him of one of his three. “I never had
my fill o’ melons yit, though I’ve”—cramming his mouth while he
continued to talk—“been in the squire’s patch much as once afore now.”
“You never had your fill of anything, I believe, Cub!” said Hod, with
his usual giggle. “Remember when we went there in the night last year?”
“Night’s no time to go for melons,” said Cub. “Ye can’t tell a ripe one
’thout cuttin’ into ’t.”
“Yes, ye can,” said Tug; “smell on ’t. That’s the best way to tell a
mushmelon.”
“Cub’s terrible petic’lar about slashin’ the ol’ man’s whoppers, all to
once,” said Horace.
“Of course, for if we cut a green one we sha’n’t find it ripe next time
we go,” Cub explained. “Jest look! we’re makin’ a string o’ rines all
the way from Peternot’s to the deacon’s orchard!”
“There now, boys,” said Hank, “throw what rines ye got down here by the
brook, an’ stop eatin’ till we git to the woods.”
Their course had been westward, until they reached the orchard. They now
took the line of stone-wall which divided the squire’s land from the
deacon’s, and which led northward to the corner of Peternot’s
wood-lot,—Hank following Dock, Cub following Hank, Tug after Cub, and
Hod bringing up the rear. In this order they entered the woods, and were
hastening to find a secluded spot where they could sit and enjoy their
melons, when suddenly Dock stopped.
“Thought I heard somebody,” he said to Hank, coming up.
“So did I. Lay low, boys! Git behind this log!”
Down went boys and melons in a heap, each of the brothers, as he
arrived, tumbling himself and his load with the rest. There they lay,
only Hank’s long, crane-like neck being stretched up over the log to
reconnoitre; but presently even he thought it time to duck, and threw
himself flat upon the ground with the rest.
“Keep dark!” he whispered; “it’s that Jack Hazard, that lives to the
deacon’s! him an’ his big dog!”
Jack indeed it was, who had been too intently occupied in fastening
Peternot into the log to notice the approach of the Huswick boys. He had
thought of them, to be sure, but had supposed they would return through
the woods as they went.
He was now running as fast as he could with his basket of treasure,
directing his course towards the orchard, but keeping a little to the
right in order to reach a low length of fence, over which he intended to
climb, and then betake himself to the smoother ground of the pasture. A
log lay in his way. Lion, growling, drew back from it—too late. Jack, in
his headlong haste, sprang upon it, and leaped down on the other side,
alighting on a frightful heap of legs and heads and watermelons. He
jumped on Hank, tripped against Cub, and, falling, spilt his basket of
rattling coin all over Tug and Dock and Hod. Thereupon the heap rose up
as one man, astonishing poor Jack much as if he had stumbled upon a band
of Indians lying in ambush.
“What in thunder!—Jerushy mighty!—half-dollars!” ejaculated Cub and Dock
and Tug; while Hank stretched himself up to his full height, and Hod
fell vindictively upon Jack.
“Le’ me go!” screamed Jack, taking his knee out of a muskmelon, and
shaking off his assailant.
“That’s my melon,” said Hod, diving at him again furiously, “an’ you’ve
smashed it!”
He was butting and striking with blind rage, when Lion bounced upon him,
and actually had him by the collar of his coat, dragging and shaking him
with terrible growls, when Tug and Cub and Dock—one catching Hod by the
heels, one Jack, and the other Lion—disentangled the combatants.
“Where j’e git all this money?” demanded Cub.
“Found it, and I’m carrying it home,” said Jack, scrambling to pick up
his scattered half-dollars.
“He’s murdered somebody for it!” cried Hank, peering in the direction of
the hollow log. “I heerd him! Hold on to him, boys!” and he ran to make
discoveries.
“Don’t ye do that!” said Jack, as Hod rushed to help him pick up the
coin. “My dog will have hold of ye again! Watch, Lion!”
“Take that out o’ yer pocket, Hod!” said Cub, seizing his youngest
brother by the neck. “Melons is fair game, but now ye’re stealin’. None
o’ that while I’m around!”
Hank, meanwhile, had reached the hollow log, beside which the hat and
cane were; when, hearing groans from within and seeing a pair of legs
sticking out, he began at once to remove the rubbish from the opening.
Dock and Tug went to his assistance; and, each laying hold of a leg
while Hank pulled energetically at the coat-tail, poor old Peternot,
half smothered, fearfully rumpled, and frightfully cross, was hauled out
by the heels horizontally.
------------------------------------------------------------------------