Kitabı oku: «The Corner House Girls on a Houseboat», sayfa 6

CHAPTER XIII – THE TRICK MULE

Neale O’Neil was wiser than most boys of his age. Perhaps having once lived in a circus had something to do with it. At any rate, among the things he had learned was to think first and speak afterward. And he decided to put this into practice now. He was doing a deal of thinking about the ring he had seen roll over the deck to be so quickly, almost secretively, picked up by Hank Dayton. But of it Neale said nothing to the mule driver nor to those aboard the Bluebird.

Walking about on the upper deck and looking down the towpath toward Hank, who was bringing the mules from their sylvan stable to feed them, Neale heard Ruth call:

“How’s the weather up there?”

“Glorious!” cried the boy. “It’s going to be a dandy day.”

“That’s great!” exclaimed Ruth. “Come on, children!” she called. “Everybody up! The mules are up and we must be up too,” she went on, paraphrasing a little verse in the school reader.

“Did any of the mules fall into the canal?” asked Dot, as she made haste to look at her “Alice-doll,” who had dried satisfactorily during the night.

“’Course not! Why should a mule fall into the canal?” asked Tess.

“Well, they might. My doll did,” went on the smallest Corner House girl. “But, anyhow, I’m glad they didn’t.”

“Yes, so am I,” remarked Mr. Howbridge, as they all gathered around the breakfast table, which Mrs. MacCall had set, singing the while some Scotch song containing many new and strange words.

“Well, shall we travel on?” asked the lawyer, when the meal was over and Hank was hitching the mules to the tow-rope, the animals and their driver having had a satisfying meal.

“Oh, yes, let’s go on!” urged Agnes. “I’m crazy to go through one of the locks.”

“Will there be any trouble about getting the houseboat through?” asked Ruth of her guardian. “She is a pretty big craft!”

“But not as long as many of the canal boats, though a trifle wider, or ‘of more beam,’ as a sailor would say,” he remarked. “No, the locks are large enough to let us through. But tell me, do you find this method of travel too slow?” he went on. “I know you young folks like rapid motion, and this may bore you,” and he glanced quickly at Ruth.

“Oh, not at all,” she hastened to say. “I love it. The mules are so calm and peaceful.”

Just then one of the animals let out a terrific hee-haw and Agnes, covering her ears with her hands, laughed at her sister.

“That’s just as good as a honk-honk horn on an auto!” exclaimed Tess.

“Calm and peaceful!” tittered Agnes. “How do you like that, Ruth?”

“I don’t mind it at all,” was the calm answer. “It blends in well with the environment, and it’s much better than the shriek of a locomotive whistle.”

“Bravo, Minerva!” cried Mr. Howbridge. “You should have been a lawyer. I shall call you Portia for a change.”

“Don’t, please!” she begged. “You have enough nicknames for me now.”

“Very well then, we’ll stick to the old ones. And, meanwhile, if you are all ready I’ll give the word to Hank to start his mules. There is no hurry on this trip, as the man to whom I am to deliver this boat has no special need for it. But we may as well travel on.”

“I’ll be glad when I can start the gasoline motor,” remarked Neale.

“Which will be as soon as we get off the canal and into the river,” said the lawyer. “I’d use the motor now, only the canal company won’t permit it on account of the wash of the propeller tearing away the banks.”

The tow-line tauted as the mules leaned forward in their collars, and once more the Bluebird was under way.

Life aboard the houseboat was simple and easy, as it was intended to be. There was little housework to do, and it was soon over, and all that remained was to sit on deck and watch the ever-changing scenery. The changes were not too rapid, either, for a boat towed on a canal does not progress very fast.

“It’s like a moving picture, isn’t it?” remarked Agnes. “It puts me in mind of some scenes in foreign countries – rural scenes, I mean.”

“Only the moving pictures move so much faster,” returned Ruth, with a smile. “They show you hundreds of miles in a few minutes.”

“Gracious, I wouldn’t want to ride as fast as that,” exclaimed Tess. “We’d fall off or blow away sure!”

It just suited the Corner House girls, though, and Neale extracted full enjoyment from it, though, truth to tell, he was rather worried in his mind. One matter was the finding of his father, and the other was a suspicion concerning Hank and the ring.

This was a suspicion which, as yet, Neale hardly admitted to himself very plainly. He wanted to watch the mule driver for a time yet.

“It may not have been one of Ruth’s rings, to begin with,” reasoned Neale. “And, if it is, I don’t believe Hank had anything to do with taking it, though he may know who did. I’ve got to keep on the watch!”

His meditations were interrupted, as he sat on the deck of the boat, by hearing Hank cry:

“Lock! Lock!”

That meant the boat was approaching one of the devices by which canal craft are taken over hills. A canal is, of course, a stream on a level. It does not run like a river. In fact, it is just like a big ditch.

But as a canal winds over the country it comes to hills, and to get up or down these, two methods are employed. One is what is called an inclined plane.

The canal comes to the foot of a hill and stops. There a sort of big cradle is let down into the water, the boat is floated into the cradle, and then boat, cradle and all are pulled up over the hill on a sort of railroad track, a turbine water wheel usually furnishing the power. Once over the brow of the hill the cradle and boat slide down into the water again and the journey is resumed.

The other means of getting a canal boat over a hill is by means of a lock. When the waterway is stopped in its level progress by reaching a hill, a square place is excavated and lined with rocks so as to form a water-tight basin, the open end being closed by big, wooden gates.

The Bluebird was now approaching one of these locks, where it was to be raised from a low to a higher level. While Hank managed the mules, Neale steered the boat into the stone-lined basin. Then the big gates were closed behind the craft, and the mules, being unhitched, were sent forward to begin towing again when the boat should have been lifted.

“Now we can watch!” said Dot as she and Tess took their places at the railing. Going through canal locks was a novelty for them, as there were no locks near Milton, though the canal ran through the town.

Once the Bluebird was locked within the small stone-lined basin, water was admitted to it through gates at the other and higher end. These gates kept the body of water on the higher level from pouring into the lower part of the canal. Faster and faster the water rushed in as the lock keeper opened more valves in the big gates. The water foamed and hissed all around the boat.

“Oh, we’re going up!” cried Dot. “Look, we’re rising!”

“Just like in an elevator!” added Tess.

And, indeed, that is just what it was like. The water lifted the Bluebird up higher and higher. As soon as the water had raised it to the upper level, the other gates were opened, and the Bluebird moved slowly out of the lock, having been raised about fifteen feet, from a lower to a higher level. Going from a higher to a lower is just the reverse of this. Sometimes a hill is so high that three sets of locks are necessary to get a boat up or down.

Once more the mules were hitched to the tow-line, and started off. As the boat left the lock another one came in, which was to be lowered. The children watched this as long as they could, and then turned their attention to new scenes.

It was toward the close of the afternoon, during which nothing exciting had happened, except that Tess nearly fell overboard while leaning too far across the rail to see something in the water, that Neale, looking forward toward the mules and their driver, saw a man leading a lone animal come out of a shanty along the towpath and begin to talk to Hank.

Hank halted his team, and the Bluebird slowly came to a stop. Mr. Howbridge, who was talking to Ruth and Agnes, looked up from a book of accounts he was going over with them and inquired:

“What’s the matter?”

“Oh, Hank has met a friend, I imagine,” ventured Neale. “It’s a man with a lone mule.”

“Well, he shouldn’t stop just to have a friendly talk,” objected the lawyer. “We aren’t hiring him for that. Give him a call, Neale, and see what he means.”

But before this could be done Hank turned, and, making a megaphone of his hands, called:

“Say, do you folks want to buy a good mule cheap?”

“Buy a mule,” repeated the lawyer, somewhat puzzled.

“Yes. This man has one to sell, and it might be a good plan for us to have an extra one.”

“I never thought of that,” said the lawyer. “It might be a good plan. Let’s go up and see about it, Neale.”

“Let’s all go,” proposed Agnes. “It will rest us to walk along the towpath.”

The Bluebird was near shore and there was no difficulty in getting to the path. Then all save Mrs. MacCall, who preferred to remain on board, walked up toward the two men and the three mules.

The man who had stopped Hank was a rough-looking character, but many towpath men were that, and little was thought of it at the time.

“Do you folks want to buy a good mule?” he asked. “I’ll sell him cheap,” he went on. “I had a team, but the other died on me.”

“I’m not much of an authority on mules,” said Mr. Howbridge slowly. “What do you say, Neale? Would you advise purchasing this animal if he is a bargain?”

Neale did not answer. He was carefully looking at the mule, which stood near the other two.

“Where’d you get this mule?” asked Neale quickly, looking at the stranger.

“Oh, I’ve had him a good while. He’s one of a team, but I sold my boat and – ”

“This mule never towed a boat!” said the boy quickly.

“What makes you say that?” demanded the man in an angry voice.

“Because I know,” went on Neale. “This is a trick mule, and, unless I’m greatly mistaken, he used to be in my uncle’s circus!”

CHAPTER XIV – AT THE CIRCUS

All eyes were turned on Neale O’Neil as he said this, and it would be difficult to say who was the more astonished. As for the Corner House girls, they simply stared at their friend. Hank Dayton looked surprised, and then he glanced from the mule in question to the man who had offered to dispose of the animal. Mr. Howbridge looked very much interested. As for the strange tramp – for that is what he was – he seemed very angry.

“What do you mean?” he cried. “This mule isn’t any trick mule!”

“Oh, isn’t he?” asked Neale quietly. “And I suppose he never was in a circus, either?”

“Of course not!” declared the man. “Who are you, anyhow, and what do you mean by talking that way?”

“I advise you to be a little more respectful in tone,” said Mr. Howbridge in his suave, lawyer’s voice. “If we do any business at all it will be on this boy’s recommendation. He knows about mules. I do not. I shall hear what he and Hank have to say.”

“Well, it’s all foolish saying this mule was in a circus,” blustered the man. “I’ve had him over a year, and I want to sell him now because he hasn’t any mate. I can’t pull a canal boat with one mule.”

“Especially not a trick mule that never hauled a boat in his life,” put in Neale.

“Here! You quit that! What do you mean?” demanded the man in sullen tones.

“I mean just what I said,” declared Neale. “I believe this is a trick mule that used to be in my uncle Bill’s show – in Twomley and Sorber’s Herculean Circus and Menagerie, to be exact. Of course I may be mistaken, but if not I can easily prove what I say.”

“Huh! I’d like to see you do it!” sneered the man.

“All right, I will,” and Neale’s manner was confident. “I recognize this mule,” he went on to Mr. Howbridge, “by that mark on his off hind hoof,” and he pointed to a bulge on the mule’s foot. “But of course that may be on another mule, as well as on the one that was in my uncle’s circus. However, if I can make this mule do a trick I taught old Josh in the show, that ought to prove what I say, oughtn’t it?”

“I should think so,” agreed the lawyer.

“You can’t make this mule do any tricks,” sneered the tramp. “He’s a good mule for pulling canal boats, but he can’t do tricks.”

“Oh, can’t he?” remarked Neale. “Well, we’ll see. Come here, Josh!” he suddenly called.

The mule moved his big ears forward, as though to make sure of the voice, and then, looking at Neale, slowly approached him.

“Anybody could do that!” exclaimed the man disdainfully.

“Well, can anybody do this?” asked the boy. “Josh – dead mule!” he suddenly cried. And, to the surprise of all, the mule dropped to the towpath, stretched out his legs stiffly and lay on his side with every appearance of having departed this life.

“There!” exclaimed Neale. “That’s the trick I taught him in the show, before I left it.”

The other mules were sniffing at their prostrate companion.

“Oh, isn’t he funny!” cried Dot, as Josh opened one eye and looked straight at her.

“I’d rather have a mule than Billy Bumps for a pet!” declared Tess.

“Did you really make him do it, Neale?” asked Ruth.

“Yes, and I can do it again!” declared the lad. “Up, Josh!” he commanded, and the mule scrambled to his feet. “Dead mule – Josh!” cried Neale again, and down the animal went a second time.

“Well, what have you to say to that?” the boy turned to ask the tramp. But the man did not stay to answer. Off he ran, down the towpath, at top speed.

“Shall I get him?” cried Hank, throwing the reins on the back of one of his mules, while Josh, in response to a command from Neale, stood upright again.

“No, let him go,” advised Mr. Howbridge. “It is very evident that he had no legal claim to this mule, and he either took him away from the circus himself, or received him from some one who did. Neale, I congratulate you.”

“Thanks. I thought I recognized old Uncle Josh, but the trick proved it. He hasn’t forgotten that or me; have you, old fellow?” he asked as he rubbed the mule’s velvety nose. And the animal seemed glad to be near the boy.

“Pretty slick, I call that,” said Hank admiringly. “Guess you’ll have to teach my mules some trick, Neale.”

“It takes too long!” laughed the lad.

“Is this our mule now?” asked Dot, as she approached the new animal, which was quite gentle and allowed the children to pet him.

“Well, I don’t know just who does own him,” said Mr. Howbridge, not wanting to give a legal opinion which might be wrong. “But he certainly does not belong to that man,” and he looked after the retreating figure, now far down the towpath.

“’Cause if he’s our mule I’d like to give my Alice-doll a ride on his back,” went on Dot.

“I’d like a ride myself!” exclaimed Tess.

“Oh, don’t try that!” sighed Ruth.

“Josh wouldn’t mind,” put in Neale. “I used to ride him in the circus. Look!”

With a spring he reached the mule’s back, and then, at the word of command, Josh trotted up and down the towpath.

“Oh, do let me try!” begged Tess.

“Shall I put her on?” Neale asked, and, at a nod from Ruth, he lifted the little girl up on the mule’s back, and the delighted Tess was given a ride.

“Oh, it’s ever so much nicer’n Scalawag!” she cried as she was lifted down. “Try it, Dot!” Scalawag was the circus pony that Neale’s uncle had given to Tess and Dot.

“I will if I can hold my Alice-doll!” stipulated the youngest Kenway.

“Sure!” assented Neale, and the fun was continued.

“I wish I dared to do it!” exclaimed Agnes, with a look at Ruth. But Ruth shook her head, and Agnes, after a moment’s hesitation, yielded to Ruth’s sense of the fitness of things.

“Well, the question now arises,” said Mr. Howbridge, “what shall we do with this mule, which seems to have been stolen?”

“I say take him along with us,” answered Hank. “One of our critters might get hurt, and we’d have to lay up if we didn’t have an extra one.”

“I don’t believe Uncle Josh would pull in harness with another mule,” said Neale. “He has always been a trick mule, and has worked alone. He is quite valuable.”

“Do you suppose your uncle sold him?” asked the lawyer.

“I don’t believe so,” said the boy. “I believe he was stolen, and I know, in that case, that Uncle Bill would be glad to get him back.”

“Well, then let’s take him back,” suggested Hank. “I can drive him along with my mules for a spell until we come to the place where the circus is playing. He’ll drive, I guess, if he won’t pull a boat, and he’ll be company for my mules.” Hank was fond of animals, and treated them kindly.

“How does that plan appeal to you, Minerva?” asked Ruth’s guardian. “This is your trip, as well as mine. Do you want to be bothered with an extra mule?”

“Oh, I don’t see that he would be any bother,” she said. “If Hank looks after him, we shan’t have to. And if it’s Neale’s uncle’s mule he ought to be returned.”

“That settles it,” said Mr. Howbridge. “We’ll take the mule with us.”

“I’m sure Uncle Bill will be glad to get him back,” declared Neale. “And I’m pretty sure he never sold him.”

So it was arranged. Once more the Bluebird was under way, the two harnessed mules towing her and Uncle Josh, the trick animal, wandering along at his own sweet will.

For a time the Corner House girls, with Neale and Mr. Howbridge, walked along the towpath. Then they went back to the boat as Mrs. MacCall, blowing on a horn, announced meal time.

The trip along the canal continued in leisurely fashion. Now the Bluebird would be lifted up at some water-foaming lock, or lowered in the same fashion. Twice they were lifted over inclined planes, and the young folks, especially Dot and Tess, liked this very much.

The weather had been all that could be desired ever since they started, except the rain storm in which the girls were robbed. But now, about four days after leaving Milton, they awoke one morning to find a disagreeable drizzle. But Hank and the mules did not seem to mind it. In fact they rather liked splashing through the rain and mud.

Of course getting out and strolling along the towpath was out of the question for the voyagers, and they found amusements enough on board the houseboat.

It rained all day, but it needed more than this to take the joy out of life for the Corner House girls.

“Fair day to-morrow!” cried Neale, and so it proved.

They approached a small town early the next day, and as they tied up at a tow-barn station to get some supplies Dot cried:

“Oh, look at the elephant!”

“Where?” demanded Tess.

“I mean it’s a picture of it on that barn,” went on the mother of the “Alice-doll,” and she pointed.

“Oh, it’s a circus!” exclaimed Tess. “Look, Ruth – Agnes!”

And there, in many gay posters was the announcement that “Twomley & Sorber’s Herculean Circus and Menagerie” would show that day in Pompey, the town they had then reached.

“It’s Uncle Bill’s show!” cried Neale. “Maybe I’ll hear some news of my father.”

“And shall we have to give back Josh mule?” asked Tess, who had taken quite a liking to the animal.

“Well, we’ll see,” said Mr. Howbridge. “But I think we may as well, all of us, go to the circus,” he added.

And, that afternoon, the trick mule having been left in the towpath barn with Hank’s animals, almost the whole party, including the driver, went to the circus. Only Mrs. MacCall decided to stay on the houseboat.

On the way to the circus the party passed the post-office. Ruth remembered that this was a town she had mentioned in a letter to Luke Shepard and ran in to see if there was any mail.

“Ruth Kenway,” said the clerk, in answer to her question, and a moment later passed out a fine, fat letter, addressed in the hand she knew so well.

“I’ll read it to-night – I haven’t time now,” she told herself, and blushed happily. “Dear Luke – I hope everything is going well with him.”

CHAPTER XV – REAL NEWS AT LAST

“Oh, look at the toy balloons! Look, Alice-doll,” and Dot held her constant companion up in her arms.

Dot was in a state of great excitement, and kept repeating to Tess stories of her experiences of the summer previous when Dot, her older sisters and some friends, seated in a box of this very circus, Scalawag, the pony, had been publicly presented to the smaller Corner House girls – a scene, and a sensation, which is told of in a previous volume of this series and which, alas! Tess had missed.

“There’s pink lemonade!” cried Tess. “Oh, I want some of that! Please, Ruth, may I have two glasses?”

“Not of that pink lemonade, Tess,” answered the older girl. “It may be colored with hat dye, for all we know. We’ll see Neale’s Uncle Bill, who will take us to the best place to get something to drink.”

“Just see the fat lady!” went on Dot next.

“Fat lady! Where? I don’t see any!” exclaimed Tess. “Do you mean an elephant?” she asked.

“No. I mean over there!” and Dot pointed to a gayly painted canvas stretched along the front of the tent in which the side shows were showing.

“Oh, that! Only a painting!” and Tess showed in her voice the disappointment she felt.

“Well, the lady is real, and we can go inside and see her; can’t we, Ruth?” pursued Dot. “Oh, I just love a circus; don’t you, Alice?” and she hugged her doll in her arms.

“Yes, a circus is very nice,” was the answer. “But now listen to me,” went on Ruth. “Don’t run away and get lost in the crowd.”

“You couldn’t run very far in such a crowd,” answered Tess.

“No, but you could get lost very easily.”

“Oh, see the camels! They are going for a drink, I guess.”

“Well, they have to have water the same as the other animals.”

“Oh, what was that?” cried Dot, as a gigantic roar rent the air.

“That must have been a lion,” answered Ruth.

“Oh, do you think he’ll get loose?” exclaimed Tess, holding back a little.

“I guess not.”

“It’s the same old crowd,” remarked Neale, as he looked on the familiar scenes about the circus tent, while Mr. Howbridge walked along with Ruth. Agnes and Neale were together, and Dot and Tess had hold of hands. Hank, after the arrival at the grounds, said he would travel around by himself, as he saw some men he knew. He agreed to be back at the canal boat at five o’clock, after the show.

“Wait until I get you a ticket,” Neale said, as the mule driver was about to separate from them. Going to the red and gold wagon, Neale stepped to the window. The man inside was busy selling tickets and tossing the money taken in to an assistant, who sorted and counted it.

“How many?” asked the man in the ticket wagon, hardly looking up.

“Seven – two of ’em halves,” answered Neale quickly.

“Well, where’s the money – where’s the cash?” asked the cashier rather snappily, and then, for the first time, he looked up. A queer change came over his face as he recognized Neale.

“Well, for the love of alligators!” he exclaimed, thrusting forth his hand. “When’d you get on the lot?”

“Just arrived,” answered Neale with a smile. “Got some friends of mine here who want to see the show.”

“Surest thing you know!” cried the cashier. “How many’d you say? Seven – two halves? Here you are,” and he flipped the tickets down on the wooden shelf in front of him. “Are you coming back to join the outfit?” he went on. “We could bill ‘Master Jakeway’s’ act very nicely now, I imagine. Only,” and he chuckled, “we’d have to drop the ‘Master.’ You’ve got beyond that.”

“No, I’m not coming back,” answered Neale. “That isn’t saying I wouldn’t like to, perhaps. But I have other plans. I’ve heard that my father has returned from the Klondike, and I want to see my uncle to find if he has any news. Is he around – Uncle Bill, I mean?”

“Yes, he was talking to me a while ago. And I did hear him mention, some time back, that he had news of your father. Well, well! I am glad to see you again, Neale. Stop in and see me after the show.”

“I’ll try to,” was the answer.

Hank, being given his ticket, went away by himself, and, after greeting some more of his circus friends, Neale began a search for his uncle. It was not an easy matter to locate any of the circus men on the “lot” at an hour just before the performance was to begin. And Tess and Dot were eager to go in and see the animals, the side shows, the main performance and everything else.

“I’d better take them in,” Ruth said finally. “You can join us later, Neale, you and Mr. Howbridge.”

So this plan was agreed on, and then the two eager girls were led into the tents of childish mystery and delight, while Neale and the lawyer sought the proprietor of the show.

They found him talking to Sully Sorber, the clown, who was just going in to put on his makeup.

At first Uncle Bill just stared at Neale, as though hardly believing the evidence of his eyes. Then a welcoming smile spread over his face, and he held out his hand.

“Well! Well! This is a coincidence!” exclaimed the ringmaster. “I was just figuring with Sully here if we would get any nearer Milton than this, as I wanted to have a talk with you, and now here you are! How did it happen? Glad to see you, sir,” and he shook hands with Mr. Howbridge. “I’ve been going to answer your letters, but I’ve been so busy I haven’t had time. One of the elephants got loose and wrecked a farmer’s barn, and I’ve had a damage suit to settle. But I am glad to see you both.”

“Tell me!” exclaimed Neale eagerly. “Have you any news from father? Is he back from the Klondike? Where can I find him?”

“My! you’re as bad as ever for asking questions,” chuckled Mr. Bill Sorber. “But there! I know how it is! Yes, Neale, I have some real news, though there isn’t much of it. I never see such a man as your father for not sending word direct. But maybe he did, and it miscarried. Anyhow, I’ve been trying to get in touch with him ever since I got your letter, Mr. Howbridge,” he went on speaking to the lawyer.

“Yes, your father has come back from the Klondike,” he resumed to Neale. “He put in his time to good advantage there, I hear, and made some money. Then he set out for the States, and, in an indirect way, I learned that he is located in Trumbull.”

“Trumbull? Where’s that?” asked Neale eagerly.

“It’s a small town on Lake Macopic!” answered the circus man.

Neale and the lawyer looked at one another in surprise.

“Do you know the place?” went on the ringmaster. “I must confess I don’t. I tried to look it up to see if it was worth moving there with the show, but I couldn’t even find it on the map. So it must be pretty small.”

“I don’t know exactly where it is,” the lawyer said. “But the fact of the matter is that we are on our way to Lake Macopic in a houseboat, and it is quite a coincidence that Neale’s father should be there. Can you give us any further particulars?”

“Well, not many,” confessed Mr. Sorber. “Mr. O’Neil isn’t much more on letter writing than I am, and that isn’t saying much. But my information is to the effect that he had to go there to clear up some dispute he and his mining partner had. He was in with some men in the Klondike, and when it came to a settlement of the gold they had dug out there was a dispute, I believe. One of the men lived in Trumbull, and your father, Neale, had to go there to settle the matter. But I am glad to see you!” he went on to the former circus lad. “And after the show, which is about to begin, we can have a long talk, and then – ”

At that moment a loud shouting arose from the neighborhood of the animal tent. Mingled with the cries of the men was a peculiar sound, like that of some queer whistle, or trumpet.

“There goes Minnie again!” cried Mr. Bill Sorber. “She’s broken loose!” and he ran off at top speed while other circus employees followed, the shouting and trumpeting increasing in volume.