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Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 22. Another Pilgrim |
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_ CHAPTER XXII. ANOTHER PILGRIM At intervals during the meal the sound of plaintive, doleful music floated in through the open windows. "Sounds like a baby squawking," observed Ephraim Gallup. "Begobs! Oi thought it was some wan playing on bagpoipes," observed Barney Mulloy. "Oi wonder whativer it can be, Oi dunno?" Frank listened. "To me it sounds like a cross between a clarinet, a flute, and a piccolo," he smiled. "Some one is trying to furnish music for this festive occasion." He called one of the servants and asked her to find out the origin of the peculiar doleful music. In a few moments the girl returned and quietly explained that a wandering musician had halted on the lawn and was performing on some sort of a wind instrument. "He's a bery funny-lookin' maan, Mr. Merriwell," grinned the girl. "He suttinly am wearin' de oddest clo'es Ah eber seen. An' he's round an' corperlous, wid de biggest fat cheeks when he blows, an' a yeller mustache dat keeps wigwaggin' all de time." Frank thrust his hand into his pocket, brought out a silver half dollar and put it in the colored girl's palm. "Give him this, Liza, and tell him to jog along," he said quietly. But after Liza had performed the commission and returned to the dining room the doleful notes of the wind instrument continued to float in through the open windows. "The wandering minstrel is bound to give you your money's worth, Merry," laughed Jack Diamond. Although they lingered at the table fully an hour after that, the musician continued to play outside during all that time, with brief intervals of rest. Finally, when dessert was over and they had chatted and gossiped a while, Frank proposed that they should move to the veranda. As the jolly party came out upon the veranda they discovered the musician. He was a portly young German, and he stood on the lawn, with a battered old carpetbag between his feet, while he blew at a wheezy flute with such vigor and vim that his eyes threatened to pop out of his head. "He certainly is working overtime," observed Diamond. "I'd like to know the name of his tailor," chuckled Browning. "His clothes certainly fit him handsomely--in spots." "Anyhow they touch the high places," came from Badger. Frank Merriwell paused on the veranda steps and scrutinized the musician intently. "Fellows," he said, "that chap looks familiar to me. I've seen him before. I know him." Bart Hodge's hand dropped on Merry's shoulder. "You're right, Frank," he said. "We both know, him--we all know him." An instant later Merry sprang down the steps, rushed forward and seized the flute player. "If you need any assistance," called Gallup, as he descended to the lawn, "I'll help you kill him, Merry." "Hans Dunnerwurst!" cried Frank, as he grasped the hand of the German and shook it delightedly. "I thought I knew you!" The stranger seemed nearly pumped out of breath. As soon as he could speak he retorted: "Uh-ha! I pelieft you vould knew me uf you recognitioned me. How you vos alretty, Vrankie? It peen a long dime since ve med up py each udder, ain'd it? I knew der lufly musig vot I vos discouragin' to you vould pring de houze oudt uf you bretty quick. Yah! I knew you coot not stand der delightfulness uf id forefer. Ach Himmel! How der flute does luf to blay me! Id peen der grandest instrument dot efer found me der vorld in." Several of the party had followed Frank down the steps and surrounded Dunnerwurst. They greeted him warmly, seizing his hand and shaking it. But suddenly the Dutchman caught sight of Gallup. With a whoop of joy, he grabbed up his carpetbag and started for the Vermonter. "Oh, Ephie, Ephie!" he squawked, rushing forward and embracing Gallup, who was nearly upset by this impetuosity. "You vos so glad to see me dot I coot almost cry right avay alretty quick now!" "Waal, gol dern my punkins!" exploded Ephraim. "It sartinly is old Hans!" "Oldt Hans? Oldt Hans?" yelled Dunnerwurst indignantly. "Who vos you callin' oldt Hans mit such carelessness? Py Chiminy! I peen not more than a year younger as you vos yourselluf! Don'd you git so bersonal in my remarks!" Then he saw Barney Mulloy, who was standing near, a broad grin on his face. With a howl, Hans flung the carpetbag and the flute straight up into the air. "Id vos Parney!" he shouted. "Id vos dot Irish pogtrotter!" Then the carpetbag came down, struck Hans on the head and knocked him to a sitting position on the grass. "Sarves ye roight for torturin' our ears wid thot croupy flute, ye bologna sausage!" laughed Mulloy. "Pologna sissage! Pologna sissage!" howled Hans. "You vos chust as sauciness as I efer vos! Vy don'd I learnt some manners dot vould make a chentleman uf you!" Together, Mulloy and Gallup seized the Dutchman, one by each arm, lifted him part way to his feet and then permitted him to fall back with a thud. "Look out there, boys," laughed Frank, "you'll dent the ground!" "Mine cootness!" gurgled Hans. "The ground dented me alretty soon! Don'd put my hands on you again!" he ordered, as his friends once more offered assistance. "Don'd try to pull der ground avay from me! I vill dood it mineselluf. I vill got up mitoudt nopody's resistance." Puffing and grunting, he finally rose to his feet, wiped the perspiration from his face, and stood there, bowing and smiling in a manner that was little short of distressing. Frank led the Dutchman up the steps and presented him to the ladies. Hans' effort at suave politeness as he bowed with his hand over his heart was most laughable. "Mine cootness! vos dot Inza Purrage?" he gurgled. "I used to think she vos der most peautiful girl vot efer seen me, but, so hellup me sour krout, she vos sixdeen times prettier-lookin' than efer!" "You're the same old flatterer, Hans," said Inza; "but you mustn't try to flirt with me now. I'm married, you know." "Vy dit you hurriness so much? Vy dit I not vait for you?" he demanded. "Here's Elsie, Hans." "Vot, dot--dot angel vomans mit der golden hair her head all ofer?" "She's now Mrs. Hodge," explained Bart. Hans struck himself a furious blow on the chest and staggered. "Dere I vos again!" he groaned. "Oh, vot a terrible misdake for her! Elsie Pellwood--und she iss now Elsie Hotch? By Chiminy! you vos a lucky poy, Part; but I don'd blame her when I see tears in her eyes because she knows I vos not marreed mineselluf." "You come here," invited Gallup, as he grasped Hans' arm and turned him toward Teresa. "I jest want to knock you daown to my wife. Mrs. Gallup, this hot dog is my old friend, Hans Dunnerwurst, that I've told ye about more'n once." "Oo!" murmured Teresa; "I am charmed to meet Senyor Dunnerwierst." Hans seemed speechless as he bowed and bowed, keeping his eyes on Teresa all the while. Finally he turned, seized Gallup by the shoulder, pulled him down, and hissed in his ear: "How dit you dood id? You vos so homely dot a clock coot stob you, und you haf marreed up py a curl dot vords coot not found my tongue for expressment." "Waal," chuckled the Vermonter, "if you want to express your tongue, send it to the Adams Express Company." "Maype I think dot vos a coot choke!" sneered Hans. "You alvays vos so funny, Ephie, dot you caused me puckets uf tears to veep." Frank presented Juanita and Mrs. Morton, and when it was all over Hans sank on a chair, quite overcome. "How did you happen to show up at such an opportune time, Dunnerwurst?" inquired Merry. "Vun veek ago," answered the Dutchman, "vile the flute vos learning to blay me in Cinsanity, Ohio, a newsbaper reads me apout Vrang Merriwell's great School Athletic Envelopment uf. My mint made me up to come right avay soon as der car fare coot raise me. Und here I vos." "Well, you're welcome to Merry Home. You just fill out the party. You make it complete. This is indeed a great reunion of the old flock. Tell us what you are doing, Hans." "Dit you not heard me on der flute play? I vos a musiga. Der heart uf me vos so full uf musig alretty dot I haf to play it oudt to keep from pursting vide open." "Here comes some more visitors, Merry," called Diamond. "I think we know them." With their arms linked together, three old men were approaching rather unsteadily. Merry instantly recognized Eli Given, Uncle Eb Small, and Deacon Hewett. As the trio turned in from the road their feet somehow became tangled, and all three went down sprawlingly. Uncle Eb sat up and made a whack at Eli with his crooked cane, crying shrilly: "That's the second time you've tripped me!" "Don't blame it on me, you doddering old fossil!" flung back Given. "Peace, boys--peace!" remonstrated the deacon, waving his hands in the air. "Raise not your voices in harsh words and brawling. I don't think any one tripped you, Eben. I've noticed myself that the ground is rather unsteady. I think we're feeling a few left-over tremors from the Frisco earthquake." "Mebbe you're right, deacon," said Uncle Eb, seeming pacified. "Kin you tell me jest how them earthquakes work? Do they make things go round in a circle? I've been noticin' durin' the last few minutes that the trees and fences were all floatin' round us." "If we brace ourselves and walk carefully," said Elnathan, as he rose and swayed a bit, "I think we'll have no further difficulty in getting along. Permit me to assist you, Eben." But when he tried to lift Uncle Eb up he lost his balance, fell heavily on Small and flattened him out. "This is really astonishing," muttered Frank, repressing his laughter with difficulty as he started down the steps. "Oh, what's the matter with them, Merry?" asked Inza. "Now don't get worried, dear," he answered, over his shoulder. "The sun is very warm to-day, and I'm afraid they're suffering from it. We must get them into the shade before they have sunstroke. Come on, fellows." Assisted by the boys, the three old men were lifted to their feet and escorted into the shade beneath the spreading trees in front of the house. Uncle Eb poked Elnathan in the ribs with his cane. "Come on now with that speech, deacon," he urged. "You're the speechmaker of the party." Elnathan cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "this is a grand and glorious day. This is the day when that grand and glorious bird, the American eagle, should plume itself with pride and utter a scream that could be heard from the Pacific to the Atlantic, from the Gulf to the Canadian border." "Hooray! hooray!" piped Eli Given. "That's the talk, deacon. Spatter it on thick!" "We are sons of free men," continued Elnathan, making a gesture that nearly caused him to lose his balance. "The Declaration of Independence and the Emancipation Proclamation made us all free and equal. If there be one among you who is not stirred by this glorious thought, let him hide his head in shame. This is the day on which the whole country rejoices at the birth of liberty. Let the cannons boom! Let the rockets siz! Let the pinwheels whiz! And let the popcorn pop!" "Hold on, deacon--hold on!" interrupted Uncle Eb. "That's your last year's Fourth of July speech. That don't seem 'zactly 'propriate to this occasion." "Now you back up, Eben," commanded Given. "You let him spout. It sounds purty good to me, whether there's any sense to it or not." "What was I sayin'?" asked the deacon. "Where did I leave off? You kinder interrupted my train of discourse, Eben. Mebbe I'd better stop." "There's a lady coming to join our party," said Bart Hodge. "I think it's your wife, Eli." "My w-h-a-t?" gasped Eli Given, actually turning pale. "Where is she? Great scissors! If she ever gits her hands on me now, I see my finish!" A woman, with a sunbonnet dangling by the strings tied beneath her chin, was coming down the road in a hurried manner. With some difficulty Eli finally discovered her. "That's Mrs. Given as sure as Adam ett the apple!" he exclaimed. "I don't believe she's seen me. Boys, I've gut to go, and I've gut to go in a hurry, too." "Well, don't you think I'm goin' to hang around for her to git holt of me," said Uncle Eb, as he started toward the corner of the house, hobbling along as fast as his legs and his cane could carry him. "I think perhaps I'd better go, too," muttered the deacon, as he followed Eben's example. In spite of the start of his companions, Given passed them on a run and turned the corner, making straight for the stable. The three old chaps legged it into that building and disappeared from view. Nevertheless, Mrs. Given had seen them, and she was not far behind when they vanished through the wide-open door. She found Uncle Eb propped up with his cane, standing in a dark corner of a box stall. "Eben Small," she said, as she shook her fingers in his face, "you're a disgrace to the community! Now, not a word! Don't speak! I know what you've been doing, you and my husband and Elnathan Hewett! You've been drinking hard cider at Rufus Applesnack's store! I'm going to take Eli home, and I'll give him a dressing down he won't soon forgit! I tell ye not to speak! You ain't gut nuthin' to say!" She then lifted her voice and called for her husband to come forth. As there was no response, she looked into the crib, and there she found Elnathan curled up, pretending to be fast asleep. "Deacon Hewett," she said, "you've posed as an example to the community. Now don't snore! I know you're awake! You can't fool me? So you will continue to snore, will ye?" There was a squawk from the deacon, for she had seized him by the nose and given it a twist that brought him upright in the crib. "Where's my husband?" she demanded. "Don't speak! Don't say a word! I want to know where my husband is!" "Well, how kin I tell you if I don't speak?" snarled the deacon. "I dunno where he is, anyhow! Go 'way and lemme alone! This hot weather is giving me an awful headache." "Oh, you've got a headache, have ye? Well, that's retribution, Mr. Hewett. You ought to have a headache. You've led my husband astray. He's a temperance man." "Me lead him astray!" groaned Hewett. "Why, 'twas him and Eben that coaxed me over to Applesnack's store." "Now don't you tell me that, you sinful old hypocrite! Eli never touches hard cider unless somebody induces him to do so. And I know Eben don't drink it on account of the effect on his rheumatiz." "That's right, mother!" piped a weak, small voice from beneath the crib, as Eli poked his head out. "The deacon is all to blame!" "Oh, there you be!" she snapped, as she pounced on him and pulled him forth. "Now you git up here and march home!" Having pulled him to his feet, she took a firm grip on his ear and led him from the stall and out of the stable. _ |
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