CHAPTER XVIII
My, how those Home Culturers and Literary Circlers did work to getsubscriptions for us. I never would have believed it, and how any ofthem had time to cook their husbands' meals, or wash their kids' faces,I don't see. Probably they didn't, for little things like keeping housewouldn't matter when there was a contest on to see who had the mostbrains.
Old Grandma Smedley claimed both clubs didn't have any brains or theywouldn't be fussing with such things. "I calc'late," says she, "that I'mthe only woman in town that's got even common sense. If a woman wantsdumb foolishness in the family she don't have to do it herself. Herhusband's always ready." But what she said didn't matter; the contestwent on just the same.
The rules of the contest were that the money had to be paid right inwith a subscription before it counted, and the first thing Mark and usfellows knew we had quite some considerable of a bank account. You getforty-odd women hustling for subscriptions at a dollar and a quarterapiece, and it don't take long to have the money mount up.
While the subscriptions were coming in we didn't forget the advertising,you can bet. Mark figured out arguments for us to shoot at themerchants, and they worked pretty good. Every week we carried moreadvertising than we ever had before, just because we had convincedbusiness men how interested everybody was in the _Trumpet_ just nowwhile the contest was going on, and how everybody was reading it. Thebusiness men could see that for themselves, because _they_ were readingit, and their wives were reading it.
"Let's see," says Mark, "how much we _m-might_ make a year out of thispaper if this contest b-brought our subscription list up to f-fifteenhunderd. The subscriptions would amount to eighteen hunderd andseventy-f-five dollars. Then our regular advertisin' that we couldf-figger on here in Wicksville and the county'll fetch aboutseventy-five dollars a week, or even up to a hunderd, if we're reallucky. As soon as we git enough s-subscribers I'm goin' after someout-of-town adver-tisin'. I see a lot of it in good country p-papers.We'll git some of that, and our job work amounts to quite a bit the wayit's been comin' in. Looks to me like we ought to make this p-paper showa profit of, anyhow, two thousand d-dollars a year, and maybe more."
"Countin' chickens before they're hatched," says I.
"We're hatchin' 'em fast," says he.
"Spragg may bust up the nest," says I, "and drive off the settin' hen."
"Spragg hain't got real d-dangerous _yet"_ says he, "but we'll have topay him some attention perty quick."
"Seems like we ought to get somethin' more to do to take up our time,"says I. "We hain't busy enough. Nothin' to do but run a contest that'sclose to bein' a civil war, and git adver-tisin' and write the news and_git_ the news, and scare up advertisements, and tend to Spragg, andmonkey around with Rock's mix-up. If, maybe, we could buy a three-ringcircus and be all the acts, includin' the menagerie, and then haveschool start up to give us somethin' to do daytimes, I guess we'd keepfrom gettin' lonesome."
Mark grinned, and says he was going to get somebody to help TecumsehAndrocles in the shop, but how that helped _us_ I didn't see.
Well, as I was saying, those women combed the town and country forsubscriptions, until it got so that anybody who hadn't subscribed forthe _Trumpet_ was as popular as a little girl coming to school with abox of candy. All you had to do was to stand in front of the post-officeand mention that you hadn't subscribed for the paper yet, and right offyou'd be asked by one woman to go driving with her, and by another tocome to dinner, and by another if you wouldn't like a batch of herraised biscuits. I dunno what a feller could have got out of not havingsubscribed yet if he held out long enough, but I guess most of 'em gottheir money's worth. For when you get a paper for a year, and two orthree invitations to dinner, and buggy rides, and auto rides, and freshpies sent over, and all that sort of thing, why, it would be a mean manthat wasn't satisfied.
Mark sat down at his desk and started writing letters. I guess he wrotea dozen and put them in the envelopes and stamped them.
"Who's goin' to git all the mail?" I says.
"Diff'rent folks," says Mark, the way he always speaks when he intendsto keep something to himself. "I'm just writin' around to git al-l-little information."
"Thought you had all there was," says I.
"Keep cool, Binney," says he. "Your strong point hain't sarcasm. Let'sgo out to see Rock."
We two went out and we expected maybe Rock would have something excitingto tell us, but he didn't. It seems like nothing at all had happened. Hehadn't seen a thing of Pekoe, and hadn't heard him much.
"Funny," says Mark, "that you don't know anything about this Pekoe,Rock, when it was him that b-brought you here."
"Not when you know how I've always lived," says Rock. "Why, I haven'tseen my father since I was a baby! I don't even remember what he lookslike. He wrote me once in a while, but his letters didn't tell much.About all there was in them was that he would come home some day."
"You don't suppose this Pekoe is him, do you?"
"I _know_ he isn't," said Rock, as positive as could be.
"But your father sent him," says I.
"He didn't say," says Rock.
"What made you g-go off with him, then?"
"There wasn't anything else to do."
Well, we were stumped right there. It was a sure thing that this Pekoeknew something we ought to know, but it looked like he might as well bein China as where he was, for all the good it did us. It made Mark Tiddmad.
"We're goin' to t-t-talk to Pekoe," says he, "and we're goin' to do itright off."
"I'm willin'," says I, "but I hain't got any wings to fly up to hiswindow."
"And Jethro might not like to see a boy flying around the yard like abird, anyhow," said Rock, making the first thing that sounded like ajoke that I ever heard him try. It wasn't much of a joke when you cometo think of it, but it was encouraging.
"I wish Plunk and Tallow was here," says Mark.
"I'll git 'em," says I, and off I went, running as hard as I could. Itdidn't take long to grab onto the fellows and hustle back. When we gotthere Mark and Rock had their heads together like they were making up ascheme.
"Plunk," says Mark, "you and Tallow are g-g-goin' to have a fight. Anoisy fight. You got to slam-bang into each other like all git out."
"G'wan!" says Tallow.
"He knows I kin lick him," says Plunk.
"If Mark Tidd wants any fightin' done he kin do it himself," saysTallow.
Mark didn't say anything till Tallow was through spluttering. Then hesays: "Jest wait a m-minute till I tell you about it. I've got to talkto this Pekoe. It hain't any easy job to do it, and it won't be possibleif you don't help. That's where the f-f-fight comes in. I want you to goback by the barn and start a reg'lar rip-snortin' rumpus that can beheard to Jericho. It'll attract Jethro right out of the house to seewhat's goin' on. While he's gone Binney and I will sneak up-stairs.Rock'll keep w-w-watch at the foot of the third-floor and make a noiseto warn us if Jethro's comin'. See? You hain't goin' to back down on me,be you?"
"No," says Tallow, "but I wisht you'd find somethin' for me to do whereI wouldn't get all mussed up. Plunk gets too doggone int'rested when hegoes to fightin'. Seems like he don't know the difference betweenfoolin' and bein' in earnest."
"So much the better," says Mark. "It'll look real to Jethro."
"It'll look real to Plunk," says Tallow, short-like, but Plunk justgrinned. He sort of liked fights.
Tallow and Plunk went off to the other side of the house like Mark toldthem. I wished I could have watched the row, because I'll bet it wouldhave been a bully scrap. The way the fellows looked when we saw themagain made me sure of it. Both of 'em looked as if they'd been in aboiler explosion that had blown them into the middle of a cyclone mixedup with an earthquake. It was just my luck.
Mark and Rock and I waited till we heard Plunk shout as loud as hecould, "You did say it, too. I heard you. What you mean talkin' about melike that?"
Tallow yelled right back at him, "I calc'late I
kin say what I want to,and if you don't like it you can lump it."
"I've a notion," says Plunk, "to hit you so hard your head'll bust likea bad egg."
"Hit ahead," says Tallow. "I dare you to. You dassent. You couldn't bustan egg any-how--not if you _jumped_ on it. Looky here. Here's a chip onmy shoulder. You dassent knock it off. Jest touch it with your finger,that's all. Jest brush it off, if you're lookin' to go to the hospital."
"I'll knock it off," says Plunk. "You bet I will. Have I got to chaseyou all over the yard to do it? Huh! Jest gimme one _lick_ at you, andthat'll be all--just one good lick.... There goes your old chip."
_Spang!_ Tallow swatted at him, and in a second they were at it. Usuallywhen a fellow gets to fighting in earnest he's too busy with his fiststo have much time for hollering, but the way Tallow and Plunk yelled anddared each other was a caution. I don't see how they managed it.
"Good kids," says Mark. "L-l-listen to 'em. That ought to fetch Jethro."
It did. In a minute out came Jethro to see what the racket was about,and as soon as he came, the three of us slid in the side door. You betwe were pretty spry about it. Rock knew the way, and he hustled some. Westuck right to his heels. We almost jumped to the top of the firstflight of stairs, and would have jumped the next but our wind wasgetting short. Rock stopped at the bottom of that flight.
"Cough," says Mark, "if Jethro comes this way."
"All right," panted Rock, and up we went.
All the doors on that floor were shut, but we knew Pekoe's door must beon the left side of the hall and three or four doors from the back ofthe house. Mark tried the fourth door, rapping on it three times soft,and then three times again.
"Who's there?" says a voice.
"Are you Mr. Pekoe?" says Mark.
"Yes. Who are you?"
"Friends of Rock's. We haven't much time. Got Jethro out of the w-w-wayfor a minute and sneaked up. We're helpin' Rock. There's some kind of amystery about him, and we're solvin' it. We got to know what _you_know."
"Don't go too fast, young feller," says Pekoe. "I don't know you yet,and I hain't talkin' to anybody that inquires. Maybe you was sent by thefeller that shut me up here."
"We weren't. Rock's with us. He's standin' at the f-f-foot of thestairs, watchin'. It was us that s-s-shot at your window yesterday, andit was me that t-t-talked deaf and dumb with you."
"Oh," says Pekoe. "What do you want to know? Why don't you let me outfirst?"
"We can't," says Mark. "Why don't you get out?"
"I'm no sparrow," says Pekoe. "It's three stories down and them blindsis nailed. I can't bust open the door. That Jethro didn't leave a thingin the room I could use to bust it down. There hain't a chair or a bedin here. Nothin' but a mattress and some quilts. What kin a feller dowith them?"
"Not much," says Mark. "And we can't do anythin' now. But we'll git youout. Rock's the m-m-main consideration now. You f-fetched him here?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I got a letter from his father tellin' me to git him at the school hewas at and fetch him here."
"Why?"
"'Cause his father was down with some kind of sickness in CentralAmerica and figgered he was goin' to die. The letter was two months oldwhen I got it. It jest said he was goin' to die, and to get his son andtake him to Henry Wigglesworth in Wicksville."
"What made his father send you?" Mark says.
"Because him and me was pals in lots of places, and because he knew hecould trust me to do what he asked. We been in a lot of pinchestogether."
"Why was you to t-t-take Rock to Mr. Wigglesworth?"
"I dunno. Big Rock never told me."
"Is Rock's father's n-n-name Rock, too?"
"Yes."
"What else?"
"Rock Armitage," says Pekoe.
"Huh!" says Mark in a sort of disappointed tone. Then in a second hesays: "What made you come back again? And how did the Man With the BlackGloves know you was comin' so as to l-l-lay for you?"
"I come back because--"
Just then Rock began to cough like the mischief, and we dassent stop,but rushed right to the stairs. Rock looked up and motioned us back, andwe could hear Jethro coming up the stairs from the ground floor. Rockhadn't signaled us quick enough so we could get down, and there we were,caught on the top floor of that house without any chance I could see butwhat we'd be caught by Jethro, and then there'd be a fine mess of fish.
But Mark he never stopped to think. He just grabbed my arm and hauled meback along the hall. We stopped back from the stairs and heard Jethroask Rock what he was doing there, and Rock said he was just going to hisroom for something. And then Jethro started up to the third floor.
Well, if he got to the top of those stairs he'd see us, for there wasn'tanything to hide us. Mark reached out quick and tried a door. It wasn'tlocked, thank goodness, and he jerked it open and in we popped. It was astairway leading up to the attic or something, and you'd better believewe went up some fast and considerable quiet.
"Huh!" I whispered when we were up there. "We're in a lovely boat now.Four stories up."
"I dunno," says Mark. "It might be worse."
"Yes," says I, "we might be up _eight_ stories."
"Anyhow," says he, "we're in the h-h-house."
"Yes," says I, "and like to stay in it."