The St. Charles herald. [volume], January 12, 1918, Image 4

About The St. Charles herald. [volume] (Hahnville, La.) 1873-1993

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Bingism — And Its Cure
Proves a Thriller for Penrod and Sam While It Lasts
By BOOTH TABKINGTON
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(Copyright, 1917, Wheeler Syndicate, Inc.)
Penrod Schofield, having been "kept
In" for the unjust period of twenty
«nImites after school, emerged to a de
serted street. That Is, the street was
deserted so far as Penrod was con
cerned. Here and there people were
to be seen upon the sidewalks, hat
they were adults, and they and the
«hade trees had about the same quality
of significance in Penrod's conscious
ness. Usually he saw grown people
In the mass, which is to say, they were
virtually invisible to him, though ex
ceptions must be taken In favor of
policemen, firemen, street-car conduc
tors, motormen and all other men in
any sort of uniform or regaliu. But
this afternoon none of these met the
roving eye, and Penrod set out upon
tils homeward way wholly dependent
upon his own resources.
To one of Penrod's inner texture, a
mere unadorned walk from one point
to another w'as intolerable, and he
tiud not gone a block without achiev
ing some slight remedy for the tame
ness of life. An electric-light pole at
the corner, invested with powers of
observation, might have been surprised
to llnd itself suddenly enacting a role
of dubious honor in Improvised melo
drama. Penrod, approaching, gave
aj the pole a look of sharp suspicion,
T", then one of conviction ; slapped It
lightly and contemptuously with his
open hand ; passed on a few paces,
but turned abruptly and, pointing his
rigid forefinger, uttered the symbolic
•word, "Bing!"
Early childhood is not fastidious
about the accessories of its drama—
a cane is vividly a gun which may in
stantly, as vividly, become a horse;
but at Penrod's time of life the lath
sword is no longer satisfactory. In
deed, he now hud a vague sense that
weapons of wood were unworthy to
the point of being eontemptible and
ridiculous, and he employed them only
•when he was alone and unseen. For
months a yearning had grow n more and
more poignant in his vitals, and this
yearning was symbolized by one of
his most profound secrets. In the In
ner pockets of his jacket he carried a
hit of wood whittled Into the distant
likeness of a pistol, but not even Sam
Williams had seen It. The wooden pis
tol never knew the light of day, save
when Penrod was in solitude; and yet
It never left his side except at night,
when It was placed under his pillow.
Still, It did not satisfy ; it was but the
token of his yearning and his dream.
With all his might and main Penrod
longed for one thing beyond all others.
He wanted a Real Pistol !
At this moment a shout was heard
from the alley, "Yay, Penrod!" and the
sandy head of com rad Sam Williams
appeared above the fence.
"Come on over," said Penrod.
As Sam obediently climbed the fence,
the little old dog, Duke, moved slowly
away, but presently, glancing over his
shoulder and seeing the two boys
standing together, he broke into a trot
ami disappeared round a corner of the
house. He was a dog of long and en
lightening experience; and he made
It clear that the conjunction of Penrod
and Sam portended events which, from
his point of view, might be unfortu
nate. Duke had a forgiving disposi
tion, but he also possessed a melan
choly wisdom. In the company of
either Penrod or Sam. alone, affec
tion often caused him to linger, albeit
with a little pessimism, but when he |
saw them together, lie invariably with
drew In ns unobtrusive a manner as
haste would allow.
"What you doin'?" Sam asked.
"Nothin'. What you?"
"I'll show you If you'll come over to
our house," said Sam, who was wear
ing an important and secretive expres
sion.
"What for?" Penrod showed little in
terest
"Well, I said I'd show you if you
came on over, didn't I?"
"But you haven't got anything I
haven't got," said Penrod indifferent
ly. "I know everything that's In your
yard and In your stable, and there
Isn't a thing—"
"I didn't say it was in the yard or
in the stable, did I?"
"Well, there ain't anything in your
house," returned Penrod frankly,
"that I'd walk two feet to look at—
not a thing!"
"Oh, no!" Sam assumed mockery.
**Oh, no, you wouldn't ! You know
what It Is, don't you? Yes, you do!"
Penrod's curiosity stirred somewhat.
"Well, all right," he said, "I got
nothin' to do. I just as soon go. What
Is It?"
"Yon wait and see," said Sam, as
-they climbed the fence. "I bet your ole
eyes'll open pretty far in about a min
nte or so!"
"I bet they don't. It takes a good
deal to get me excited, unless It's
«umpthlng mighty—"
"You'll see!" Sam promised.
He opened an alley gate and stepped
Into his own yard In a manner signal
ing caution—though the exploit, thus
far, certainly required none—and Pen
er,
TUI. iney enter j
encountering no one, and Sam led tne ,
way upstairs, tiptoeing, implying un- >'
visual and increasing peril. Turning, in
the upper hall, they went into Sant's
father's bedroom, and Sam closed the
•door with a caution so genuine that ftl
de
was
con
hat
the
ex
of
in
But
the
a
he
at
of
It
his
his
in
to
of
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ready Penrod's eyes began to fulfill his
host's prediction. Adventures in an
other boy's house are trylDg to the
nerves; and another boy's father's bed
room, when invaded, has a violated
sanctity that is almost appalling. Pen
rod felt that something was about to
happen—something much more import
ant thau he had anticipated.
Sam tiptoed across Ihe room to a
chest of drawers, and, kneeling, care
fully pulled out the lowest drawer un
til the surface of its contents—Mr.
Williams' winter underwear—lay ex
posed. Then he fumbled beneath the
garments and drew forth a large ob
ject, displaying it triumphantly to the
satisfactorily dumfounded Penrod.
It was a blue-steel Colt's revolver,
of the heaviest pattern made in the
seventies. Mr. Williams had inherited
it from Sam's grandfather (a small
man. a deacon, a dyspeptic) and it was
larger and more horrible tiian any re
volver either of the boys had ever seen
in any picture, moving or stationary.
Moreover, greenish bullets of great
size were to be seen in the chambers
of the cylinder, suggesting massacre
rather than mere murder. This revol
ver was real and It was loaded !
Both boys lived breathlessly through
a magnificent moment.
"Leave me have it !" gasped Penrod.
"Leave me have hold of It!"
"You wait a minute!" Sam protest
ed. in a whisper. "I want to show you
how I do."
"No; you let me show you how I
do !" Penrod Insisted ; and they scuffled
for possession.
"Look oyt !" Sam whispered warn
ingly. "It might go off."
"Then you better leave me have it !"
And Penrod victorious and flushed,
stepped back, the weapon in his grasp.
"Here," he said, "this is the way I do ;
You be a crook ; and suppose you got
a dagger, and I—"
"I don't want any dagger," Sam pro
tested, advancing. "I want that re
volver. It's my father's revolaver, j
ain't it?"
"Well, wait a minute, can't you? I
got a right to show you the way I do, ;
first, haven't I?" Penrod began an im- I
provisntion on the spot. "Say I'm com- ;
in' along after dark like this—look, !
Sara ! And say you try to make a
jump at me—"
"I won't !" Sam declined this role j
Impatiently. "I guess it ain't your fath- !
er's revolaver, is it?"
"Well, it may be your father's but j
it ain't yours," Penrod argued, becom- j
iug logical. "It ain't elther's of us re- j
volaver, so I got as much right—"
"You haven't either. It's my fath—" j
"Watch, can't you—just a minute!" !
Penrod urged vehemently. "I'm not j
goin' to keep It, am I? You can have
it when I get through, can't you? !
Here's how I do : I'm cornin' along af
ter dark, just walkin' along this way— j
like this—look, Sam !"
Penrod, suiting the action to the !
word, w r alked to the other end of the j
room, swinging the revolver at his side
with affected carelessness.
"I'm just walkin' along like this, and
first I don't see you," continued the ac
tor. "Then I kind of get a notion
sumpthing wrong's liable to happen, so
I— No !" He Interrupted himself ab
ruptly. "No; that isn't it. You wouldn't
notice that I had my good ole revolaver
with me. You wouldn't think I had
one, because it'd be under my coat like
this, and you wouldn't see it." Pen
rod stuck the muzzle of the pistol into
the waistband of his knickerbockers
at the left side and, buttoning his Jack
et, sustained the weapon in conceal
ment by pressure of his elbow. "So
you think I haven't got any ; you think
I'm Just a man cornin' along, and so
you—"
Sam advanced. ."Well, you've had
your turn," he said. "Now, It's mine.
I'm goin' to show you how I—"
"Watch me, can't you?" Penrod
wailed. "I haven't showed you how I
do, have I? My goodness! Can't you
watch me a minute?"
"I have been ! You said yourself It'd
be my turn soon as you—"
"My goodness ! Let me have a
chance, can't you?" Penrod retreated
to the wall, turning his right side to
ward Sam and keeping the revolver
still protected under his coat. "I got
to have ray turn first, haven't I?"
"Well, yours is over long ago."
"It isn't either! I—"
"Anyway," said Sam decidedly,
clutching him by the right shoulder
and endeavoring to reach his left side
—"anyway, I'm goin' to have it now."
"You said I could have my turn
out !" Penrod, carried away by indig
nation, raised his voice.
"I did not!" Sam, likewise lost to
cantion, asserted his denial loudly.
"You did, too."
"You said—''
"I never said anything 1"
"You said— Quit that I"
"Boys!" Mrs. Williams, Sam's moth
er, opened the door of the room and
stood upon the threshold. The scuf
fling of Sam and Penrod ceased In
■
j ««Boys, you weren't quarreling, were
, J J
>' ou?
"Ma'ant?" said Sam.
"Were you quarreling with Penrod?"
"No, ma'am," answered Sam in a
small voice.
a
of
it
I,it
"It sounded like it. Whirl was ihe
matter?"
Both boys returned her curious
glance with meekness. They were sum
moning their faculties—which were
needed. Indeed, these are the crises
which prepare a boy for the business
difficulties of his later life. Penrod,
with the huge weapon beneath his
jacket. Insecurely supported by an el
bow and by a waistband which he in
stantly began to distrust, experienced
distressful sensations similar to those
of the owner of too heavily insured
property carrying a gasoline can under
his overcoat and detained for conver
sation by a policeman. And if in the
coming years, it was to be Penrod's lot
to find himself in that precise situa
tion, no doubt he would be the better
prepared for It on account of this pres
ent afternoon's experience under the
scalding eye of Mrs. Williams. It
should be added that Mrs. Williams'
eye was awful to the imagination only.
It was a gentle eye and but mildly
curious, having no remote suspicion
of the dreadful truth, for Sam had
backed upon the chest of drawers and
elosed the damnatory open one with
the calves of his legs,
Sam. not bearing the fatal evidence
upon his person, was in a better state
than Penrod, though when boys fall
into the stillness now assumed by
these two. It should be understood that
they are suffering. Penrod, in fact,
was the prey to apprehension so keen
that the actual pit of his stomach was
cold.
■ Being the actual custodian of the
crime, he understood that his case wt' «
several degrees more serious than that
of Sam, who, In the event of detection,
would be convicted as only an acces
sory. It was a lesson, and Penrod al
ready repented his selfishness in not
allowing Sam to show how he did, first.
"You're sure you weren't quarrel
ing. Sam?" said Mrs. Williams.
"No, ma'am ; we were just talking."
"I'm glad you weren't quarreling,"
said Mrs. Williams, reassured by this
reply, which though somewhat baf
fling. was thoroughly familiar to her
ear. "Now, if you'll come downstairs,
I'll give you each one cookie and no
more, so your appetites won't be spoil
ed for your dinners."
She stood, evidently expecting them
to precede her. To linger might renew
vague suspicion, causing it to become
j
;
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!
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!
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"I Can't Pull the Trigger," Said Sam Indistinctly.
i
i
j
more definite ; and boys preserve them
selves from moment to moment, not of
ten attempting to secure the future.
Consequently, the apprehensive Sam
and the unfortunate Penrod (with the
monstrous Implement bulking against
his ribs) walked out of the room und
down the stairs, their countenances in
dicating an interior condition of sol
emnity. And a curious shade of be
huvior might have here interested a
criminologist. Penrod endeavored to
keep as close to Sam as possible, like
a lonely person seeking company,
while, on the other hand, Sam kept
moving away from Penrod, seeming to
desire an appearance of aloofness.
"Go into the library, boys," said Mrs.
Williams, as the three reached the foot
of the stairs. "I'll bring you your
cookies. Papa's la there."
Under her eye the two entered the
library, to find Mr. Williams reading
his evening paper. He looked up pleas
antly, but it seemed to Penrod that he
had an ominous and penetrating ex
pression.
"What have you been up to, you
boys?" Inquired this enemy.
"Nothing," said Sam. "Different
things."
"What likeT'
"Oh—Just different things."
Mr. Williams nodded ; then his
glance rested casually upon Penrod.
"What's the matter with your arm,
Penrod T
Penrod became paler, and Sam with
drew from him almost conspicuously.
"Sir?"
"I said, What's the matter with your
arm?"
"Which one?" Penrod quavered.
"Your left. You seem to be holding
it In an unnatural position. Have you
hurt It?"
Penrod swallowed. "Yes, sir. A boy
I,it m«—T men •' —a doc bit me.'
Mr. Willi:yn* murmured sympatheti
cally: "That's too bad! Where did
he bite you?"
"On the—right on the elbow."
"Good gracious ! Perhaps you ought
to have It cauterized."
"Sir?"
"Did you have a doctor look at it?"
"No, sir. My mother put some stuff
from the drug store on it."
"Oh, 1 see. Probably it's all right,
then."
"Yes. sir." Penrod drew breath more
freely, and accepted the warm cookie
Mrs. Williams brought him. He ale
it without relish.
"Was it your own dog that bit you?"
Mr. Williams inquired.
"Sir? No, sir. It wasn't Duke."
"Penrod!" Mrs. Williams exelaimed.
"When did It happen?"
"1 don't remember Just when," he
answered feebly. "I guess It was day
before yesterday."
"Gracious ! How did it—"
She was interrupted by the entrance
of a middle-aged colored woman. "Miz
Williams," she began, and then, as she
caught sight of Penrod, she addressed
him directly. "You' ma telefoam if you
here, send you home right away, 'cause
they waitin' dinner on you."
"Run along, then," said Mrs. Wil
liams, patting the visitor lightly upon
his shoulder; and she accompanied him
to the front door. "Tell your mother
I'm so sorry about your getting bitten,
and you must take good care of it,
Penrod."
"Yes'm."
Penrod lingered helplessly outside
the doorway, looking at Sam, who
stood partially obscured in the hall,
behind Mrs. Williams. Penrod's eyes,
with n veiled anguish, conveyed a
pleading for help as well as a horror
of the position in which he found him
self. Sam, however, pale and deter
mined, seemed to hnve assumed a
stony attitude of detachment, as if it
were well understood between them
that his own comparative innocence
was established, and that whatever
catastrophe ensued, Penrod had
brought it on and must bear the brunt
of it alone.
"Well, you'd better run along, since
they're waiting for you at home," said
Mrs. Williams, closing the door. "Good
night, Penrod."
. . . Ten minutes later Penrod took
his place at his own dinner-table, some
what breathless but with an expression
of perfect composure.
"Can't you ever come home without
being telephoned for?" demanded his
father.
"Yes, sir." Änd - Penrod added re
proachfully. placing the blame upon
members of Mr. Schofield's own class,
"Sam's mother and father kept me, or
I'd been home long ago. They would
keep on talkin', and I guess I had to
be polite, didn't I?"
His left arm was as free as his right ;
there was no dreadful bulk beneath
his jacket, and at Penrod's age the fu
ture Is too far away to be worried
about. The difference between tempo
rary security and permanent security
is left for grown people. To Penrod,
security was security, and before his
dinner was half eaten his spirit had
become fairly serene.
Nevertheless, when he entered the
empty carriage-house of the stable, on
his return from school the next after
noon, his expression was not altogether
without apprehension, and he stood In
the doorway looking well about him
before he lifted a loosened plank In
the flooring and took from beneath It
the grand old weapon of the Williams
family. Nor did his eye lighten with
any pleasurable excitement as he sat
himself down In a shadowy corner and
began some sketchy experiments with
the mechanism. The allure of first
sight was gone. In Mr. Williams' bed
chamber, with Sam clamoring for pos
session, it had seemed to Penrod that
nothing in the world was so desirable
as to have that revolver in his own
hands—It was his dream come true.
But, for reasons not definitely known
to him, tlie charm had departed; he
turned, the cylinder gingerly, almost
with distaste : and slowly there stole
over him a feeling that there vas
I
he
he
something repellent nnd threatening In
the heavy blue steel.
Thus does the long-dreamed real
misbehave—not only for Penrod !
More out of a sense of duty to bing
ism in general than for any other rea
son. he pointed the revolver at the
lawn-mower, and gloomily murmured,
"Bing !"
Simultaneously, a low and cautious
voice sounded from the yard outside,
"Yay, Penrod!" and Sam Williams
darkened the doorway, his eye falling
Instantly upon the weapon in his
friend's hand. Sam seemed relieved to
see it.
"You didn't get «aught with It, did
you?" he said hastily.
Penrod shook his head, rising.
"I guess not ! I guess 1 got some
brains around me," he added, Inspired
by Sam's presence to assume a slight
swagger. "They'd have to get up pret
ty early to find any good ole revolaver,
once I got my hands on It !"
"I guess we can keep If, all right,"
Sam said confidentially. "Because this
morning papa was putting on his win
ter underclothes and he found It wasn't
there, and they looked all over and ev
erywhere, and he was pretty mad. and
snl<l # he knew It was those cheap plumb
ers stole it that mamma got Instead of
the regular plumbers h«> always used to
have, and he said there wasn't any
chance ever gettin' It back, because
you couldn't tell which one took it,
nnd they'd all swear St wasn't them.
So It looks like we could keep it for
our revolaver, Penrod, don't it? I'll
give you half of It.''
Penrod affected some enthusiasm.
"Sam' we'll keep it out here in the
stable."
"Yes, and we'll go huntin' with It.
We'll do lots of things with it !" But
Sam made no effort to take it. and
neither boy seemed to feel yesterday's
necessity to show the other how he
did. "Walt till next Fourth o' July !"
Sam continued. "Oh, oh! Look out!''
This invited a genuine spark from
Penrod.
"Fourth o' July! I guess she'll be a
little better than any firecrackers ! Just
a little 'Bing! Bing! Bing!' she'll be
goin'. 'Bing! Bing! Bing!'"
The suggestion of noise stirred his
comrade. "I'll bet she'll go off louder'n
that time the gas-works blew up ! I
wouldn't be afraid to shoot her off any
time."
"I bet you would," said Penrod. "You
aren't used to revolavers the way I—"
i "You aren't, either!" Sam exclaimed
i promptly. "I wouldn't be any more
j afraid to shoot her off thuu you would."
"You would, too!"
"I would not !''
"Well, let's see you then ; you talk
so much !" And Penrod handed the
weapon scornfully to Sam, who at once
became less self-assertive.
"I'd shoot her off In a minute," Sam
said, "only It might break sumpthing if
It hit It."
"Hold her up in the air, then. It
can't hurt the roof, can It?"
Sam, with a desperate expression,
lifted the revolver at arm's length.
Botli boys turned away their heads,
and Penrod put his fingers in his ears
—but nothing happened. "What's the
matter?" he demanded. "Why
you go on if you're goin' to?"
Sam lowered his arm. "I guess I
didn't have her cocked," he said apolo
getically, whereupon Penrod loudly
jeered.
"Tryin' to shoot a revolaver and
didn't know enough to cock her! If I
didn't know any more about revolavers
than that, I'd—"
"There!" Sam exclaimed, managing
to draw back the hammer until two
chilling clicks warranted his opinion
that the pistol was now ready to per
form its office. "I guess she'll do all
right to suit you this time!"
"Well, why'n't you go ahead, then ;
you know so much !" And as Sam
raised his arm, Penrod again turned
away his head and placed his forefing
ers in his ears.
A pause followed.
"Why'n't you go ahead?"
Penrod, after waiting in keen sus
pense, turned to behold his friend
standing with his right arm above his
head, his left hand over his left ear,
and both eyes closed.
"I can't pull the trigger," said Sam
Indistinctly, his face convulsed as In
sympathy with the great muscular ef
forts of other parts of his body. "She
won't pull !"
"She won't?" Penrod remarked with
scorn. "I'll bet I could pull her."
Sam promptly opened his eyes and
handed the weapon to Penrod.
"All right," he said, with surprising
nnd unusual mildness. "You try her,
then."
Inwardly discomfited to a disagree
able extent, Penrod attempted to talk
his own misgivings out of counten
ance.
"Poor 'lttle baby !" he said, swinging
the pistol at his side with a fair pre
tense of careless ease. "Ain't even
strong enough to pull a trigger! Poor
'lttle baby ! Well, If you can't even do
that much, you better watch me while
I—"
"Well," said Sam reasonably, "why
don't you go on and do it then?"
"Well, I am going to, ain't I?"
"Well, then, why don't you?"
"Oh, I'll do It fast enough to suit you,
I guess," Penrod retorted swinging the
big revolver up a little higher than his
shoulder and pointing It in the direc
tion of the double doors, which opened
upon the alley. "You better run, Sam,"
he jeered. "You'll be pretty scared
when I shoot her off, I guess."
Well, why don't you see If I will? I
bet you're afraid yourself."
Oh, I am, am I?" said Penrod, in a
reckless voice—and his finger touched
the trigger. It seemed to him that his
finger no more than touched it ; perhaps
he had been reassured by Sam's asser
tion that the trigger was difficult Ills
don't
his
of
at
Intentions must remain in doubt, and
probably Penrod himself was not cer
tain of them; but one thing Jomes to
the surface us entirely d«din!fe—that
trigger was not so hart to pull as Sam
said it wus.
Bang! Wh-a-a-aok. A shattering re
port split the air of the stable, and
there was on orifice of remarkable di
ameter In the alley door. With these
phenomena, three yells, expressing ex
citement of different kinds, were al
most simultaneous—two from within
the stable and the third from a point
in the alley about eleven inches lower
than the orifice Just constructed la
the planking of the <ioor. This third
point, roughly speaking, was the open
m«»uth of a guyly dressed young color
ed man whose attention, ns he strolled,
had been thus violently distracted from
some mental computations be was
making In numbers, Including, particu
larly, those symbols of ecstasy or woe,
ns the case might be, seven nnd eleven.
His eye at once perceived the orifice
on a line enervatlngly little above the
top of his head; and, although he had
not supposed himself so well known in
this neighborhood, he was aware that
he did, here and there, possess ac
quaintances of whom some such un
complimentary action might he expect
ed as natural and characteristic. His
immediate procedure was to prostrate
himself flat upon the ground, against
the stable doors.
In so doing, his shoulders came
brusquely In contact with one of them,
which hnppeued to be unfastened, and
it swung open, revealing to his gaze
two stark-white white boys, one of
them holding an enormous pistol and
both staring at him In stupor of ulti
mate horror. For, to the glassy eyes
of Penrod and Sam, the stratagem of
the young colored man, thus dropping
to earth, disclosed, with awful certain
ty, a slaughtered body. *J3
This dreadful thing raised itself up
on Its elbows and looked at them, and
there followed a motionless moment—
a tableau of brief duration, for both
boys turned and would have fled,
shrieking, but the body spoke:
"'At's a niee business!" it said re
proachfully. "Nice business! Tryin'
blow a man's head off!"
Penrod was unable to speak, but
Sam managed to summon the tremu
lous semblance of a voice.
"Where—where did it hit you?" he
gasped.
"Nemmine anything 'bout where It
hit me," the young colored man return
ed, dusting Ms breast and knees as he
rose. "I want to know what kine o'
white boys you think you is—man
can't walk 'long street 'tliout you blow
in' his head off!" He entered the sta
ble and. with an indignation surely
justified, took the pistol from the limp,
cold hand of Penrod. "Whose gun you
playin' with? Where you git 'at gun?"
"It's ours," quavered Sam. "It be
longs to us."
"Then you' pa ought to be 'rested,"
said the young colored man. "Lettin'
boys play with gun!" He examined
the revolver with nn Interest In which
there began to appear symptoms of a
pleasurable appreciation. "My goo'
ness! Gun like 'Iss blow a team o'
steers thew a brick house! Look at 'at
gun !" With his right hand he twirled
it in a manner most dexterous and sur
prising; then suddenly he became se
vere. "You white boy, listen me !" he
said. "Ef I went an did what I ought
to did, I'd march straight out 'iss sta
ble, git a policeman, an' tell him 'rest
you an' take you off to jail. 'At's what
you need—blowin' man's head off !
Listen me: I'm goin' take 'iss gun an'
th'ow Iter away where you can't do no
mo' harm with her. I'm goin' take her
way off in the woods an' th'ow her
away where can't nobody fine her an'
go Mowin' man's head off with her.
'At's what I'm goin' do!" And placing
the revolver inside his coat as Incon
spicuously ns possible, he proceeded to
the open door nnd into the alley, where
he turned for a final word. "I let yon
off 'Iss one time," he said, "but listen
me—you listen, white boy : yo bet' not
tell you' pa. I nin' goin' tell him, an'
you ain' goin' tell him. He want know
where gun gone, you tell him yon los'
her."
He disappeared rapidly.
Sam Williams, swallowing continu
ously, presently walked to the alley
door, and remarked In a weak voice,
"I'm sick at my stummlck." He paused!
then added more decidedly: "I'm goin'
home. I guess I've stood about enough
around here for one day!" And be
stowing a last glance upon his friend,
who was now sitting dumbly upon the
floor In the exact spot where he had
stood to fire the dreadful shot, Sam
moved slowly away.
The early shades of autumn evening
were falling when Penrod emerged
from the stable; and a better light
might have disclosed to a shrewd eye
some indications that here was a boy
who had been extremely. If temporar
ily, ill. He went to the cistern, and,
after a cautious glance round the re
cover.
■ vocal
They
of Penrod
e slowly con
nssurlng horizon, lifted!
Then he took from .
his Jacket an object
listlessly into the wati
of wood, whittled to
pistol. And though h
nor any sound Issued
organs, yet were word*
were so deep in the p<
they came almost from
valesclng profundities ^"hlTs'tomarh.
These words concerned firearms, and
they were:
"Wish I'd never seen onel
want to see one again 1"
Of course Penrod had no way of
knowing that, as regards blngisin In
general, several of the most distin
guished old gentlemen In Europe were
at that very moment in exactly the
same statu of mind.
Never