CHAPTER V.
THE NIGHT-HAWKS.
Mr. Shell was proprietor of the New Hope Oyster Saloon. He got up nicegame suppers, and treated his customers to ale, whiskey, and brandy.Philip loved good living, and often ate an oyster-stew and a broiledquail, and washed it down with a glass of ale, late at night in Mr.Shell's rooms, in company with three or four other boys. After supperthey had cigars and a game of cards, till midnight, when Mr. Shell putout his lights and closed his doors, often interrupting them in themiddle of a game. That was not agreeable, and so the young gentlemenhired a room over the saloon, fitted it up with tables and chairs, andorganized a club, calling themselves "Night-Hawks." Philip was the chiefhawk. They met nearly every evening. No one could get into their roomwithout giving a signal to those within, and they had a secret sign bywhich they knew each other in the dark.
At first they enjoyed themselves, playing cards, smoking cigars,drinking ale, sipping hot whiskey punch, and telling stories; but in ashort time the stories were not worth laughing at, the games of cardswere the same thing over and over, and they wanted something moreexciting.
It was the fall of the year. There was rich fruit in the orchards andgardens of New Hope, russet and crimson-cheeked apples, golden-huedpears, luscious grapes purpling in the October sun, and juicy melons.The bee-hives were heavy with honey, and the bees were still at work,gathering new sweets from the late blooming flowers. Many baskets ofripe apples and choicest pears, many a bunch of grapes, with melons,found their way up the narrow stairs to the room of the Night-Hawks.There was a pleasing excitement in gathering the apples and pears underthe windows of the unsuspecting people fast asleep, or in plucking thegrapes from garden trellises at midnight. But people began to keepwatch.
"We must throw them off our track. I'll make them think that Paul doesit," said Philip to himself one day. He had not forgotten the night ofDaphne's party,--how Paul had won a victory and he had suffered defeat.Paul was respected; he was the leader of the choir, and was getting onin the world. "I'll fix him!" said he.
The next morning, when Mr. Leatherby kindled the fire in his shoe-shop,he found that the stove would not draw. The smoke, instead of going upthe funnel, poured into the room, and the fire, instead of roaring andblazing, smouldered a few moments and finally died out. He kindled itagain, opened the windows to let in the air, but it would not burn. Hegot down on his knees and blew till he was out of breath, got his eyesfilled with smoke, which made the tears roll down his cheeks. The shopwas a mere box of a building, with a low roof; so he climbed up andlooked into the chimney and found it stuffed with newspapers. Pullingthem out, he saw a crumpled piece of writing-paper. He smoothed it out."Ah! what is this?" said he; and, putting on his spectacles, he read,"North 69 deg. East, 140 rods to a stake; South 87 deg. West, 50 rods to anoak-tree."
"That is Paul Parker's figuring, I reckon. I always knew that Paul lovedfun, but I didn't think he would do this!" said Mr. Leatherby tohimself, more in sorrow than in anger.
"Good morning, Mr. Leatherby," said Philip, coming up at that moment."What is the matter with your chimney?"
"Some of you boys have been playing a trick upon me."
"Who, I should like to know, is there in New Hope mean enough to dothat?" Philip asked.
"Whose figuring do you call that?" Mr. Leatherby asked, presenting thepaper.
"Paul Parker's, as sure as I am alive! You ought to expose him, Mr.Leatherby."
"I don't like to say anything against him. I always liked him; but Ididn't think he would cut up such a shine as this," Mr. Leatherbyreplied.
"Appearances are deceptive. It won't do for me to say anything againstPaul, for people might say I was envious; but if I were you, Mr.Leatherby, I'd put him over the road," said Philip, walking on.
Mr. Leatherby thought the matter over all day, as he sat in his dingyshop, which was only a few rods from Mr. Chrome's, where Paul waspainting wagons, singing snatches of songs, and psalms and hymns. Mr.Leatherby loved to hear him. It made the days seem shorter. It restedhim when he was tired, cheered him when he was discouraged. It was likesunshine in his soul, for it made him happy. Thinking it over, andhearing Paul's voice so round, clear, full, and sweet, he couldn't makeup his mind to tell anybody of the little joke. "After all, he didn'tmean anything in particular, only to have a little fun with me. Boyswill be boys,"--and so Mr. Leatherby, kind old man that he was,determined to keep it all to himself.
When Paul passed by the shop on his way home at night, he said, "Goodevening, Mr. Leatherby," so pleasantly and kindly, that Mr. Leatherbyhalf made up his mind that it wasn't Paul who did it, after all, butsome of the other boys,--Bob Swift, perhaps, a sly, cunning, craftyfellow, who was one of Philip's cronies. "It would be just like Bob, butnot at all like Paul, and so I won't say anything to anybody," said themild old man to himself.
Miss Dobb's shaggy little poodle came out, barking furiously at Paul ashe passed down the street. Paul gave him a kick which sent him howlingtowards the house, saying, "Get out, you ugly puppy!" Miss Dobb heardhim. She came to the door and clasped the poodle to her bosom, saying,"Poor dear Trippee! Did the bad fellow hurt the dear little Trippee?"Then she looked savagely at Paul, and as she put out her hand to closethe door, she seemed to clutch at Paul with her long, bony fingers, asif to get hold of him and give him a shaking.
Trip wasn't hurt much, for he was out again in a few minutes, snappingand snarling at all passers-by. Just at dark he was missing. Miss Dobbwent to the door and called, "Trip! Trip! Trip!" but he did not come ather call. She looked up and down the street, but could not see him. Theevening passed away. She went to the door many times and called; shewent to Mr. Shelbarke's and to Mr. Noggin's, but no one had seen Trip.She went to bed wondering what had become of him, and fearing thatsomebody had killed or stolen him.
But in the night she heard him whining at the door. She opened itjoyfully. "Where have you been, you dear little good-for-nothing darlingTrip?" she said, kissing him, finding, as she did so, that all his hairhad been sheared off, except a tuft on the end of his tail. She was soangry that she could not refrain from shedding tears. The puppyshivered, trembled, and whined in the cold, and Miss Dobb was obligedto sew him up in flannel. He looked so funny in his coat, with the tuftof hair waving on the end of his tail, that Miss Dobb laughednotwithstanding her anger. In the morning she went out to tell herneighbors what had happened, and met Philip.
"Good morning. I hope you are well, Miss Dobb," he said politely.
"Yes, I am well, only I am so vexed that I don't know what to do."
"Indeed! What has happened?"
"Why, somebody has sheared all of Trip's hair off, except a tuft on theend of his tail, which looks like a swab. It is an outrageous insult,for Trip had a beautiful tail. I would pull every hair out of thevillain's head, if I knew who did it."
"Who was it that kicked your dog last night, and called him an uglypuppy?" Philip asked.
Miss Dobb remembered who, and her eyes flashed. Philip walked on, andcame across Bob Swift, who had been standing round the corner of Mr.Noggin's shop, listening to all that was said. They laughed atsomething, then stopped and looked at Mr. Noggin's bees, which werebuzzing and humming merrily in the bright October sun.
That night Mr. Noggin heard a noise in his yard. Springing out of bedand going to the window, he saw that a thief was taking the boxes ofhoney from his patent hives. He opened the door and shouted, "Thief!Thief!" The robber ran. In the morning Mr. Noggin found that the thiefhad dropped his hat in his haste. He picked it up. "Aha! 'Pears to me Ihave seen this hat before. Paul Parker's, as sure as I am alive!" hesaid. It was the hat which Paul wore in Mr. Chrome's paint-shop.Everybody knew it, because it was daubed and spattered with paint.
Mr. Noggin went to his work. He was a well-meaning man, butshallow-brained. He knew how to make good barrels, tubs, and buckets,but had no mind of his own. He put on his leather apron, and commenceddriving the hoops upon a barrel, pounding with his adze, singing, andmaking the
barrel ring with
"Cooper ding, cooper ding, cooper ding, ding, ding! Cooper ding, cooper ding, cooper ding, ding, ding! Cooper ding, job, job, Cooper ding, bob, bob, Heigh ho,--ding, ding, ding!"
Mr. Noggin was rattling on in that fashion when Miss Dobb, followed byTrip, entered the shop.
"Well, I declare! That is the first time I ever saw a pup with a shirton," said Mr. Noggin, stopping and looking at the poodle sewed up inflannel. "That is Paul Parker's doings,--I mean the shearing," said MissDobb, her eyes flashing indignantly.
"Paul's work! O ho! Then he shears pups besides robbing bee-hives, doeshe?" said Mr. Noggin. He told Miss Dobb what had happened.
"It is your duty, Mr. Noggin, to have him arrested at once. You areunder imperative obligations to the community as a law and order abidingcitizen to put the sheriff upon his track. He is a hypocrite. He oughtto be pitched out of the singing-seats head first." So Miss Dobb woundMr. Noggin round her finger, and induced him to enter a complaintagainst Paul.