The Boy Scouts Book of Stories - Part 28
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Part 28

"'Mr. Hairyman, you're a liar, an' it's Stonewall Kip, of Concho, tellin' you!'

"'Little _Maudy_ thar _ain't_ full, an' she don't have to _say_ airy a thing she don't want to; an' if you don't pull your freight sudden for th' brush, I'll sh.o.r.e shoot six different kinds of meanness outen your low-down murderin' carca.s.s!'

"Th' way his whiskers skipped over boulders makin' his getaway was some active, while th' pore little gal she jest drops off in a dead faint an'

lays thar till some folks comes down the gulch an' carries her off.

"Then I takes th' kink outen th' hammer of my gun, sticks her in my waist-band, an' climbs back an' gits my hat--havin' had more'n enough of such blasted Op'ra The-_a_-ters.

"An' while I was driftin' through the chute toward the main gate of th'

big pen, to git out, there was th' blamedest cheerin', yellin', an'

hand-clappin' you ever heard away from a stump-speakin', but whatever she was all about Stonewall didn't stop to ax."

FOOTNOTE:

[J] Reprinted by special permission from "Reminiscences of a Ranchman."

Copyright, 1910, by George H. Doran Company.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

XI.--The Lie[K]

_By Hermann Hagedorn_

"DID you prepare this lesson, Burton?"

Burton, big, athletic, handsome as a movie hero--hesitated a second before he answered. He was busy picking up a pad which lay under his seat.

He deposited the pad on the wide armrest and looked up inquiringly as though he had not fully comprehended the question. Mr. Beaver, the algebra teacher, was smiling his friendly and slightly irritating smile.

"I asked you, Burton," he repeated gently, "whether you had prepared.

Did you?"

"Yes, sir," answered Burton.

"Thank you," said Mr. Beaver. He opened a certain terrifying little black book and made a dot in the lower left-hand corner of a certain square opposite the name of Burton. "Perhaps," he added, "you had better go over it again," and smiled the same smile, which would have been sardonic but for the mildness of his tone.

Burton sank glumly back in his seat.

Mr. Beaver regarded his little book studiously for a moment. Then he looked up. The smile was gone. The alert face, adequately adorned by a reddish beard fading into gray, was now solicitous.

"Harrington," he said.

A Fourth Former in the middle row stood up. He was slight and rather pallid, and it was evident that he should begin shaving without further delay, for there was already a shadow of fuzz on his cheeks and chin that made him look unwashed and rather weak. His mother, who was vain, had insisted that he postpone shaving. She could not bear to think that she was the mother of a son who was almost a man, she always said. It made her feel so old.

Harrington, sallow and unshorn, was not an inspiring sight. Mr. Beaver evidently thought so. His eyes were unquestionably serious.

"Harrington," he said, "it seems that you are another of our weak brethren this morning. Did you prepare your lesson?"

Again, the second's hesitation. Harrington turned a shade paler, if possible. Then, with an effort, he spoke.

"No, sir."

"I was afraid not," said Mr. Beaver making another cryptic dot. Then he smiled. Harrington writhed and the rest of the cla.s.s, except Burton, laughed. "Why not?"

"I--I was ill."

Mr. Beaver was at once sympathetic, though serious. "Did you report to Dr. Stevens?"

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"I knew he had already gone."

"You were ill after ten o'clock?"

"Yes, sir."

Again Mr. Beaver smiled. "But surely you might have done your algebra before ten o'clock?"

"I was--busy, sir."

"With other lessons?"

Harrington hesitated.

"With other lessons?" Mr. Beaver repeated.

"No, sir."

"Well?"

"I had a spread."

There was a roar from the other boys.

"Quiet!" said Mr. Beaver. "Now, Harrington, as I understand the situation," he continued mildly, "you failed to prepare your lesson because you were ill in consequence of a spread which it was against the rules to indulge in. Is that it?"

"Y--yes, sir."

"Professor is very much opposed to--illicit spreads, as you know"--("Professor" was the Headmaster)--"I am afraid this will mean about thirty demerits, therefore. You have other demerits?"

"Yes, sir."