The Rushton Boys at Rally Hall Part 3

"Come," said his uncle sharply, "speak up now! What's the matter with you? Are you tongue-tied?"

"You see, it was this way," Teddy began, and stopped.

"No," said his uncle, "I don't see at all."

"Well," Teddy broke out, desperately, goaded by the sarcasm to full confession, "I was batting flies to the fellows, and one of them said I couldn't hit anything, and I wanted to show him that he was wrong, and just then I saw the coach coming, and I took aim at the gray horse. I didn't think anything about his running away--I'd never seen him run hard, anyway--and--and--I guess that's all," he ended, miserably.

"No, it ain't all, not by a long sight!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jed, who had been especially stung by the slur on his faithful gray. "Not much, it ain't all! So, yer did it on puppose, did yer? I might have s'spicioned from the fust thet you was at the bottom of this rascality. They ain't anything happened in this town fur a long time past thet you ain't been mixed up in.

"I'm mortal sure," he went on, haranguing his audience and warming up at the story of his wrongs, "thet it was this young varmint thet painted my hosses with red, white and blue stripes, last Fourth of July. I jess had time to harness up to get to the train in time, when I found it out, and I didn't have time to get the paint off before I started. And there was the people in Main Street laffin' fit ter kill themselves, and the loafers at the deepo askin' me why I didn't paint myself so as to match the hosses. It took me nigh on two days before I could get it off, and the hosses smelt of benzine fur more than a week. Ef I could a ketched the feller what done it, I'd 'a' taken it out of his hide, but I never had no sartin proof. Howsumever, I knowed pooty well in my own mind who done it," and he glared vindictively at Teddy.

But Teddy had already done all the confessing he cared to do for one day, and the author of Jed's unwilling Fourth of July display was still to remain a mystery.

Far more important to Teddy than Jed's threats was the wrath of his uncle, who stood looking at him with a severity before which Teddy's eyes fell.

"And you mean to tell me," said Mr. Aaron Rushton slowly, "you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that you actually aimed at that horse--that you deliberately----"

"No, not deliberately, Uncle Aaron," interrupted Fred, who had been trying to get in a word for his brother, and now seized this opening.

"He didn't think of what he was doing. If he had, he wouldn't have done it. He didn't have any idea the horses would run away. Teddy wouldn't hurt----"

"You keep still, Fred," and his uncle turned on him savagely. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask you for it. If you weren't always making excuses for him and trying to get him out of sc.r.a.pes, he wouldn't get into so many.

"Not another word," he went on, as Fred still tried to make things easier for Teddy. "We'll finish this talk up at the house. I want your father and mother to hear for themselves just how near this son of theirs came to killing his uncle."

"I'll see if I can get a rig of some kind to carry you up," volunteered Fred.

"Never mind that," answered his uncle shortly. "It isn't far, and I don't want to wait. Bring that valise that you'll find in the coach along with you. I want to get into some dry things as soon as possible.

Lucky it isn't a shroud, instead of regular clothes," and he shot a glance at Teddy that made that youth shudder.

"As to the damage done to the coach and horses," Mr. Rushton said, turning to Jed, who had been watching Teddy's ordeal with great satisfaction and gloating over what was still coming to him when he should reach home, "you need not worry about that. Either my brother or I will see you to-morrow and fix things up all right."

"Thank yer, Mr. Rushton," mumbled Jed, as he mentally tried to reach the very highest figure he would dare to charge, with any hope of getting it. "I knowed you would do the right thing. I'm only sorry that you should have so much trouble with that there young imp," and he shook his head sorrowfully and heaved a sigh, as though he already saw ahead of Teddy nothing but the gallows or the electric chair.

Nor could he forbear one parting shot at that dejected youth.

"Don't forget, young man, thet you may have to reckon with Uncle Sam yet," he hinted, with evident relish, as the party prepared to move away. "It ain't no joke to interfere with the United States mail and them thet's carryin' it. The padlock on that mailbag was all bent and bunged up when the stage smashed up against that tree. Course, I ain't sayin' what may come of it, but them gover'ment folks is mighty tetchy on them p'ints. They've got a big prison at Leavenworth and another at Atlanta where they puts fellers that interferes with the mails in any way, shape or manner. Oh, I know all about them places. I've traveled a good deal in my time, and----"

But by this time, the uncle and nephews were well on their way up the hill, and Jed had to save the rest of his discourse for his cronies that evening at the general store.

The Rushton home stood on a beautiful elm-shaded street just beyond the field where the boys had been playing ball. It was a charming, up-to-date house, capacious and well arranged, and furnished with every comfort. A broad, velvety lawn stretched out in front, and towering elms threw their cool shadows over the roadway.

Around three sides of the house ran a hospitable veranda, with rugs and rattan furniture that made of it one large outside room. Tables, on which rested books and magazines, with here and there a vase of flowers fresh cut from the garden, showed that the inmates of the house were people of intelligence and refinement.

Mansfield Rushton, the boys' father, was one of the most prominent citizens of Oldtown. He was a broker, with offices in a neighboring city, to which he commuted. His absorption in his business and his interest in large affairs left him less time and leisure than he would have liked to devote to his family. He was jovial and easy-going, and very proud of his two boys, to whom he was, in fact, perhaps too indulgent. "Boys will be boys," was his motto, and many an interview, especially with Teddy, that ought, perhaps, to have ended in punishment, was closed only with the more or less stern injunction "not to do it again."

His wife, Agnes, was a sweet, gracious woman, who, while she added greatly to the charm and happiness of the household, did not contribute very much to its discipline. She could be firm on occasion, and was not as blind as the father to what faults the boys possessed. Although each one of them was as dear to her as the apple of her eye, she by no means adopted the theory that they could do no wrong. Like most mothers, however, she was inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt, and it was not hard to persuade her that they were "more sinned against than sinning."

The Rushton system of household management, with love, rather than fear, the ruling factor, was not without its critics. The boys' uncle, Aaron, some years older than his brother Mansfield, and wholly different in disposition, had been especially exasperated at it. On his occasional visits to Oldtown he never tired of harping on his favorite proverb of "spare the rod and spoil the child," and his predictions of Teddy's future were colored with dark forebodings.

To be sure, he had never gone so far as to prophesy that Teddy's mischief would ever come near killing any one. And yet, that was precisely what had happened.

And as Aaron Rushton toiled up the hill the discomfort he felt from his wet clothes was almost forgotten in the glow of satisfaction that at last he had proved his theory. He would show Mansfield and Agnes that even if he was a bachelor--as they had at times slyly reminded him--he knew more about bringing up boys than they did.

The unsuspecting parents were sitting on the veranda, waiting for the boys to come in to supper. The table was spread and waiting, and Mr.

Rushton had once or twice glanced impatiently at his watch.

"What on earth is keeping those boys?" he exclaimed. "Oh, here they are now. But who's that with them? Why, it's Aaron! Great Scott! What's the matter?" he cried, as he sprang up excitedly.

Mrs. Rushton uttered a little shriek as her eyes fell on the three figures entering the gateway.

CHAPTER V

UNCLE AARON RAGES

It was no wonder that both were startled, for the little group coming up the walk showed that something far out of the ordinary had happened.

It was a surprise in the first place to see Aaron Rushton at all, as, contrary to his usual custom when he paid a visit to Oldtown, he had not notified them that they might expect him.

But to see him in such a plight as this was altogether beyond their experience. He was prim and precise in every detail of his clothes, and his sense of personal dignity was very strong. Neatness was a pa.s.sion with him, and, in his regulated bachelor existence, this had grown upon him with the years.

But now, as he walked between the two boys, he presented an appearance that was almost grotesque. He was without his hat, which had floated down the stream and had not been recovered. His hair was plastered down on both cadaverous cheeks, his s.h.i.+rtfront was a ma.s.s of pulp, and his wet clothes clinging closely to him brought into full relief every bony angle of his figure. One leg of his trousers was torn from the knee to the ankle. His feet sloshed in his shoes with every step, and a wet trail marked his progress from the gate to the porch.

On each side of him walked one of the boys, Fred staggering under the weight of a big suit case, while Teddy carried nothing but a guilty conscience. But probably his burden was the heavier of the two, and he would gladly have changed loads with his brother.

Under other circ.u.mstances, the pair on the veranda would have been unable to restrain their laughter. But Aaron was not a man to take a joke, and, besides, they did not know as yet but that he had received some hurt more serious than a wetting.

They hurried down the steps to meet him.

"Why, Aaron, what on earth has happened?" asked Mr. Rushton, as he grasped the clammy hand of his brother.

"Can't you see?" snarled Aaron ungraciously. "I've been in the river.

It's a wonder I'm here to tell you that much."

"In the river!" gasped Mrs. Rushton. "How did you get there?"

"How do you suppose?" growled Aaron. "Think I went in swimming with my clothes on? I fell in, or rather, I jumped in to save my life, when Jed Muggs' horses ran away."

"Ran away!" exclaimed Mr. Rushton. "I never heard of their doing anything like that before. What made them run away? Did you get hurt?"

"Nothing but my feelings and my clothes," said Aaron. "But if you want to know what made them run away, ask that precious son of yours there."

And he shot a vicious glance at Teddy, who colored as the eyes of his father and mother turned toward him.

"Teddy!" exclaimed Mrs. Rushton. "What did he have to do with it?"