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The High School Boys' Canoe Club, a fiction by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 3. Buying Fuel For A Bonfire? |
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_ CHAPTER III. BUYING FUEL FOR A BONFIRE?
"It doesn't," Dick retorted. "Although we don't know anything about such a job, and though it is supposed to need a sure enough expert to do it, we're at least going to try the thing out and see if we can't make this canoe float, and carry us safely, at that!" "We'd better decide how to get it away from here, anyway," proposed Tom Reade. "We haven't any lease of this lot." Over near the road a group of men and boys were laughing heartily. It was at the lawyer's son that their mirth was directed. As for Dick & Co., the Gridley crowd felt only sympathy. The proceedings of the afternoon had but emphasized the old idea that at an auction sale one must either use great judgment or take his chances. "Say," called Dick, "there goes the very man we ought to ask for advice. Harry, will you run over and ask Hiram Driggs to come here?" Hazelton, nodding, hurried away at full speed. "Hiram Driggs is an awfully high-priced man," sighed Tom Reade. "Perhaps his mere advice won't come high," young Prescott answered. "If it does, we'll begin right by telling him that we have no money---that we've nothing in fact but a birchbark white elephant on our hands." Driggs came over promptly, his keen, shrewd eyes twinkling. "So you boys have been buying away from my shop, and have been 'stung,' eh!" queried Driggs, a short, rather stout man, of about forty. "Robbed, I'd call it," replied Dave Darrin. "Same thing, at a horse trade or an auction sale," hinted Hiram dryly as he got up on the truck. "Let's have a look at your steam yacht." For a few moments Driggs looked the canoe over in grim silence. "Whew!" was time final comment. "Pretty bad, isn't it?" Dick inquired. "Well, for my part, I'd sooner buy a real wreck," Driggs announced. "This may be an auctioneer's idea of honor. What was his name?" "The auctioneer's name? Caswell," Dick answered. "I'll make a note of that name," said Driggs, drawing out notebook and pencil, "and keep away from any auction that has a man named Caswell on the quarter-deck. Now, boys, what do you want to know about this canoe that your eyes don't tell you?" "About how much would it cost us to fix her?" asked Prescott. "Thirty dollars---maybe thirty-two," said Driggs, after another casual look at the canoe. "Let's announce the bonfire for to-night," urged Greg. "We haven't any such sum of money, Mr. Driggs," Dick went on. "Too bad, boys, for you'd probably have a lot of fun in this craft. If you want to sell it, maybe I could allow you four dollars for the craft as she stands." "We'd hate to part with the canoe," Dick continued. "I know, I know," remarked Driggs sympathetically. "It was wanting a boat badly when I was a boy that drove me into the boat business. But I didn't have to handle birch bark then, or my first craft would have sunk me. Say, boys, great joke how young Ripley got stung so badly, wasn't it?" "I know about how he feels," remarked Dick. "Yes, of course," smiled Driggs. "But you boys are entitled to some honest sympathy. I don't imagine young Ripley will get much sympathy, will he?" "Not a heap," Greg Holmes answered. "Well," resumed Driggs, "I ain't a mite sorry for the boy and his make-believe pony. But I wish I could help you with your boat, for I know you haven't any loose money to throw around like young Rip." Driggs dug his hands deep into his pockets and wrinkled his brow in thought. At last he looked up hopefully. "I'll tell you what I've been thinking about, boys. The town will be laughing at young Ripley to-morrow. But Rip, he'll be passing the laugh around on you young fellers, too. Now, I don't mind Rip's troubles; but it's different with you boys, and I know how it stings to part with all the money you could scrape together. Now, let's look this job over. I could say about thirty dollars for this job. It will cost twenty, and the other ten dollars would be profit, interest on my investment in my shop and so forth. Now, I'll let this job go at just the cost---twenty dollars, and throw off the profit and trimmings. Yes---to you young fellows---I'll call the job twenty dollars." "That's kind of you," said Dick, with a grateful sigh. "But we want to be honest with you, Mr. Drigg---Twenty dollars, or five, or a hundred---it would be all the same to us. We haven't the money." "Not so fast," returned Driggs, his eyes twinkling. "I'll give you credit, and treat the debt as a matter of honor between us." "But I don't know how we'd pay you back," Dick went on. "As it is, we've borrowed a good bit of money that we've got to pay back." "Exactly," agreed Driggs, "and you want to pay the other money back before you pay me. Yes; I'll take the job at cost---twenty dollars, and I'll throw in the use of one of my teams and trucks to come up here and get the canoe." "But I'm afraid, sir, that we'd be a very long time paying you." "No, you won't," Driggs disputed. "I don't allow long time bills, but I'll show you a way to pay me back fairly early, if you boys have the energy---and I believe you have. Now, you see, first off, boys, we'll need a lot of birch bark. I haven't any in stock, and the kind that is sound and good for canoe building is scarce these days. Now, first off, you'll have to range the woods for bark. Do you know where to find it?" "Yes," Dick nodded. "Over on that place they call Katson's Hill." "But that's about eleven miles from here," objected Driggs. "I know it is," Prescott answered. "But the point is that Katson's Hill is wild land. No tax assessor knows who is the owner of that land, and it wouldn't bring enough money to make it worth while to sell it at a sheriff's sale. So a number of farmers turn their cattle in there and use it for free grazing ground. As no owner can be found for the land we won't have to pay for the birch bark that we cut there." "That's so," Driggs acknowledged. "But it's an awful distance, and over some mighty rough bits of road. You'll be about dead after you've packed a load of birch bark in from Katson's Hill." "That wouldn't be anything, compared with having to do without our canoe," Dick returned. "Maybe not," Driggs conceded. "Now, boys, is there much of that birch bark on Katson's Hill?" "There must be several shiploads," Dave Darrin replied. "Good enough. Then, see here. I'll take this job at twenty dollars, if you boys will get the birch bark. After you've brought in enough to patch the canoe then you can bring in enough more to amount to twenty dollars. Is that a go?" "It's wonderfully kind of you," Dick answered gratefully. "Not much it isn't," Driggs grinned, "and it will make that young Ripley cub feel mighty sore and cheap when he finds that he was the only one who got 'skinned' at this auction. But before you get through cutting and hauling birch bark you may think I'm a pretty hard taskmaster. I'll call it a go, if you boys will." "We'll pay our full debt, Mr. Driggs, and pay you a load of thanks besides." "All right," nodded Driggs, jumping down off the truck, in haste to get away from the embarrassment of being thanked. "Some of you just hang around here until my man, Jim Snowden, gets up here with the truck. After Jim starts away with your war canoe then you can leave the rest to me, except cutting and hauling several loads of birch bark to square up matters." Driggs beat a hasty retreat now. When he had gone the members of Dick & Co. exchanged glances. Then Holmes began to dance his best idea of a jig. "We'll have that bonfire at eight o'clock tonight, Greg," Dick reminded him with a smile. "Will you?" demanded Greg, scowling fiercely. "If any of you fellows have any matches, then just keep away from that canoe, or I'll fight. We can't afford to take any risks. Whoop!" "Whoop!" answered Harry Hazelton, standing on his head. "Whoop!" echoed Dave Darrin, giving Danny Grin a playful punch that sent Dalzell sprawling. They were as happy a lot of boys as one could wish to see. They were to have their canoe and all the sport that that meant. It was to be a safe craft---as good as new! For Hiram Driggs was a dependable and skilful boat builder. "Hey, too bad you fellows got stung so fearfully," cried a grammar school boy in passing. "I'm mighty sorry." "Thank you," Dick answered. "But we're going to have the canoe repaired. We'll be having lots of fun in the war canoe after a few days." "How you going to get her fixed?" asked the other boy. "Hiram Driggs has taken the job, and you know what he can do with boats." "Whee! I'm glad on you're going to have the canoe fixed all right," nodded the other boy, and passed on. Forty-five minutes after Driggs' departure Jim Snowden came up with the truck. With the help of the boys he loaded the canoe from the other truck, then started away. By this time the news had spread to other boys that Dick & Co. would soon have their war canoe afloat in fine order---that Hiram Driggs stood sponsor for the prediction. That evening Fred Ripley had a somewhat unpleasant talk with his father. "You've no business with pocket money," said Squire Ripley sternly. "You have no idea of the value of it." "I thought I had made a good bargain," said Fred sullenly. "So does every fool who parts with his money as easily as you do," returned the lawyer. "Well, enjoy yourself, my boy. If you'd rather have that paralyzed pony than the money I gave you to enjoy the summer with, I suppose you're entitled to your choice, though I don't like your judgment." "Of course," suggested Fred, "since I've met with misfortune you won't be too hard on me. You'll let me have a little more money, so I won't have to go through the summer like a mucker." "I'll give you no more spending money this summer," retorted the lawyer, adding, grimly: "If I did, you'd probably go and buy a cart to match your horse." In fact Fred felt so uncomfortable at home that, just after dark, he started up Main Street. "Where's your horse, Fred?" called Bert Dodge. "Why are you walking when you own one of the best steeds that ever came out of Arabia?" "Shut up, won't you?" demanded Fred sulkily. Bert chuckled for a while before he went on: "Of course, I'm sorry for you, Fred, but it's all so funny that I can't help laughing." "Oh, yes, it must be awfully funny," replied young Ripley testily. "But you can afford it," said Bert. "You can get more money from your father." "I suppose so," Ripley assented, not caring to repeat his interview with his father. "Anyway, I'm glad that Dick Prescott and the rest of his crowd got fooled as badly as I did. And they can't get any more money this summer." "I guess they must have gotten some already," Bert rejoined. "Didn't you hear the news about that canoe?" "What news?" asked Fred quickly. "Why, they've engaged Hiram Driggs to put the canoe in good order." "Where did they get the money?" asked Fred, his brow darkening. "I don't know," was Bert's rejoinder. "But they must be able to raise money all right, for Driggs has the canoe down at his yard, and he has promised it to them in a few days." This news came like a slap in the face to the lawyer's son. He remained with Bert for another hour, but all the time Fred brooded over the fact that Dick & Co. were to have their canoe after all. "At that, I don't know that they will have their canoe," Fred remarked darkly to himself as he started homeward. Shortly after midnight Fred Ripley sneaked away from his home, turning his face in the direction of Hiram Driggs' boatyard. _ |
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