Part 20

At the time of the leap Will was almost upon him.

Bob sprang courageously, but wildly. Alas! “the best-laid schemes of mice and men--” the rest is not English.

The tangled rope in his hands proved his downfall; it coiled round his feet with a merciless grip, and he alighted on the raft in a sorry plight. There he lay, sprawling and struggling, a most ludicrous sight. The more he struggled to free himself, the more tightly he was encircled by the terrible coils. Boys, the youth who becomes entangled in one thousand feet of rope is to be pitied.

To add to his misery, shout after shout of laughter burst from the entire six. _Their_ hour of triumph had, in its turn, come.

The impetus given to the raft carried it on a little farther, but Will soon reached it, sprang, and almost fell over struggling Robert. No need to make him a prisoner; both hands and feet were bound fast by the long rope.

Will’s first act was to liberate poor Carlo, and take off his muzzle.

Bob groaned and shivered, but the noble dog stretched himself and frisked about the raft, scarcely noticing him.

“Carlo, Carlo, come, Carlo,” Stephen called joyously.

Carlo plunged into the river and swam towards his master, who, half beside himself with exultation, cried: “Steer for this port, Will; and bring the prisoner.”

“All right!” Will shouted back, and put the raft to the bank to take on Marmaduke and Jim, who soon came up.

The raft sank low under the weight of the four, but still it floated them; and Will and Marmaduke took up the oars and began to work their way slowly across the stream. Jim sat on the cage and pretended to steer; but his eyes roved from the prisoner to the boys on the opposite bank, and then, by way of the oarsmen, back to the prisoner.

The hearts of the six beat loud with triumph; but poor Bob’s heart sank, and beat very faint. “Oh,” he gasped piteously from among the serpent-like coils of the rope, “Oh, let me go! For mercy’s sake, let me go! Don’t take me over to Stephen and his dog; and I’ll promise never to meddle with you boys any more.”

Will looked pityingly at the abject creature, but answered with firmness: “No, Bob, I must take you to Stephen. You have played a mean trick on him, and he must settle with you. But,” whispering in his ear, “I guess you’ll survive.”

_Chapter XXVII._

THEY PROPOSE TO TURN THE TABLES.

Bob saw that it would be useless to crave further for mercy, and he remained sulky and silent; but Jim looked in vain to see him blubber. No; in everything except age Bob was an orthodox villain; and an orthodox villain never whimpers when his schemes topple about his ears. On account of his youth and inexperience, he had not provided himself with poison in the event of failure--nay, he did not even attempt to roll off the raft into the river.

“This is rather a home-made rabbit-house, eh, Will?” Marmaduke observed, inclining his head towards the cage.

“It’s kindy weak,” Jim chimed in. “It looks strong enough to hold me, but it keeps cracking every minute.”

“Hush!” breathed Will.

He had many fine qualities. Even at his early age, he could respect the feelings of a fallen foe.

“Hello there, Steve,” he said, as they drew near the group of three. “I killed Tip, but I’ve saved Carlo, so my mind is easy.”

The three returned Will’s grin of pleasure with a shout of applause. So eager were they to welcome the victors that they tore off their boots and stockings, rolled their pants _nearly_ up to their knees, and waded out till the water was two or three inches _above_ their knees. Youth manifests its enthusiasm very recklessly at times.

At this moment Will experienced some of the triumph of a conquering hero.

“Now, Bob,” Charles began, as they floated the raft into its harbor; “now, Bob, you will be tried by us for your misdoings.”

“He has surely had punishment enough; let him go;” said tender-hearted George, sitting down on the bank and looking pityingly at the wild-eyed captive.

“Yes, Steve; let him go; for how on earth can we punish him?” Will supplemented.

“No!” Charles said resolutely. “The boy who can float another boy’s dog over these falls is a scoundrel, and--”

“I never did!” Bob here put in.

“And,” continued Charles, “_he ought to be court-martialed_!”

Bob did not know what this meant; neither did Charles; the former looked awe-struck, the latter, wise and august.

Steve, however, added promptly: “Of course. His father must have court-plastered him the other night for his bruises; and now we must court-martial him for his wickedness.”

“Well,” said Marmaduke, seating himself with great composure, “I am going to be neutral.”

Poor boy, he thought “neutral” had an imposing look in his history, and he would seize this opportunity to illustrate its beauties.

With that, the entire six sat down in a circle around the raft. Charles and Stephen were resolved on punishment. Jim also. For some reason, George and Will were in favor of pardon.

“Well, boys,” said Will, “of course you can do what you like, but I believe I should let him go--box, and rope, and straps, and all. I perished poor Tip, but I’ve rescued Carlo, and I’m satisfied.”

No doubt Will thought this a very genteel expression. Not so Marmaduke: he sprang to his feet with a gesture of surprise, and said earnestly, “Oh, Will! _perish_ is a neuter verb!”

Will flushed, and moved uneasily from right to left.

“What is all this nonsense about neuters and neutrals?” Steve asked, angrily. “What do we care about your neuters? Botheration, you boys have put off this trial long enough. But,” with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “tell us what a _neuter verb_ is; and then, I hope, we may go on.”

Marmaduke was ill prepared for such a question, and he was never prompt in giving explanations. His face blanched, he sank dejectedly to the ground, took off his hat and toyed with it nervously; took out his handkerchief and feebly tried to blow his nose; looked appealingly at the Sage; and at last began, hesitatingly: “Well, hem, Steve, _Stephen_, I’m afraid I can hardly make it clear to you, because--because--well, you know, Stephen, you don’t understand grammar very well. Well, _perish_--but,” brightening and rising, “I’ll just illustrate it for you. Now, you see, I’m standing up. Well,” suiting the action to the word, “I _sit_ down when _I_ go to the ground; but,” suiting the action to the word, “I _set_ down my _hat_--or _you_, or _any other boy_, or a _thing_, or a _word_ in a book.”

Marmaduke put on his hat and picked up and pocketed his handkerchief with the air of a man who has triumphed.

“Yes,” Steve admitted, “you make it pretty plain, Marmaduke; but these neuter verbs, and conjunctions, and things, were always a muddle to me. But,” guilelessly, “tell me this, and then we must attend to Bob: Is it right to say, I _sit_ myself down, or I _set_ myself down?”

Poor Marmaduke! He was struck dumb; he had a new view of neuter verbs. A look of woe that would have melted a heart of stone passed over his face. He arose and took a seat where Steve could not see him, muttering confusedly: “A neuter verb can’t do anything, but active verbs do.”

Stephen chuckled: “I always knew those rules in the grammar wouldn’t work both ways.”

Charles and Will did not seem inclined to help Marmaduke out of his difficulty--probably they were as much puzzled as he. As for George, he was not at all disconcerted: _when he understood a thing, he knew that he understood it_. He looked on with supreme indifference, not thinking it worth while to give his views.

“See how Bob behaved himself the night of the experiment,” Charles observed, coming back to the matter in hand. “He will always be trying to do us some harm if we let him off this time.”

“Yes,” chimed in Steve, glancing at the helpless captive, who was still on the raft, “we let him go that night and see how he has rewarded us for our mercy!”

“You wouldn’t have let him escape if it hadn’t been for me;” Will corrected.

“We didn’t hunt him down the next day, as we might have done!” Steve rejoined, as though that settled the question.

“I hope we are hardly such a set of cold-blooded fellows as that!” George said. “And besides what great harm did he do that night?”

“Oh, you, George Andrews!” Stephen retorted wrathfully. “I suppose you think we’re harping on your performances that night, but we’re not.”

“You had better not, Stephen Goodfellow!” said George also becoming wrathful. “You promised that you wouldn’t speak of that to me again.”

It is a lamentable fact, hinted at in the outset of this history, that these heroes quarreled occasionally. When one of these differences took place, each one had the strange, boyish habit of calling the other by his christian name and surname. If you doubt this, fair reader, [she for whom this is written will understand,] be so good as to play the eavesdropper on two small and quarrelsome juveniles disputing about the color of an absent playmate’s marble.

“I’m not; I’m keeping my word;” Steve replied seriously. “But perhaps your mind is running on _clemency_, that bothered you so much the other day.”

“Perhaps _yours_ is running on the term ‘_Lynch law_!’”

At this juncture neutral Marmaduke, who was beginning to recover his equanimity, and who doubtless felt spiteful towards Stephen, hopped up and declared, in the tone of a dictator rather than of a peacemaker: “Gentlemen, the jury have disagreed; the case is dismissed.”

“Marmaduke Fitzwilliams,” cried Charles, rising in his turn, “four or five boys don’t make a jury; you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lawyers would say, _constitute_ a jury,” Marmaduke corrected.

“Well, let ’em say it; _we_ are not lawyers;” Charles roared.

“It would not be acting politically to punish him ourselves,” the neutral one contended. “There is a whole court-house full of men in the village, that make it a business to punish people.”

Poor Marmaduke! He seemed to have a preternatural longing to figure in the courts of justice.

“Marmaduke,” George said musingly, “don’t you suppose you are out of your reckoning when you say ‘acting politically’?”

“Yes, what does ‘politically’ mean, any way?” Stephen inquired, thinking to ensnare the boy once more.

This time, however, Marmaduke answered without hesitation. “Why,” said he, “it’s an adverb, and adverbs always mean, _in a manner_--_politically, in a political manner_.”

Steve did not seem much enlightened, and Charles with a merry twinkle, asked, “Always?”

“Always!” firmly.

“Oh, then, _politically_ ought to mean, _in the manner of a policeman_; _abed, in the manner of a bedstead_; and so on.”

Marmaduke looked aghast, and Charles the persecutor continued mercilessly: “_Alongside, in the manner of a man who wears a long side._”

The neutral one was now quite discomfited, and he arose and stole back to his seat, trying to collect himself and make out what “in a manner” really signifies.

But Steve yelled after him: “And _to go_ means _in the manner of a goner_.”

At this dreadful outrage it is a wonder that Words did not take to themselves a voice to howl in the offender’s ear: “We cannot all be adverbs!”

As for Marmaduke he was utterly demoralized.

“Whatever you do, boys, don’t leave Bob to stiffen in his coils on that raft,” Will meekly suggested.

Charles and Stephen were so eager to have some one side with them that they took it for granted that Will, for very weariness, was now in favor of punishment; and Stephen, on the spur of the moment, made this startling observation:

“Why not do with Bob as he did with my dog? He has got himself all in a jumble on the raft--let us give him a ride up and down the river. It will be good for his constitution.”

Strangely enough, this idea was favorably received by the boys. They laughed, and applauded Stephen.

“It would be a very light punishment,” he continued, pressing home his advantage. “Don’t you all agree to it? Come, Will, what is your opinion?”

“It was you Bob was molesting, Steve, and you must stir up your conscience to see what it says, and then go ahead,” Will answered. “You put it very mildly, but I suppose your meaning is, to cram Bob into Carlo’s prison, untangle the rope, and then float him around as he floated Carlo around.”

“Y-e-s,” Steve assented, somewhat discomposed at this plain statement of his views.

“I’m tired of all this,” George exclaimed, with a sigh. “Fire ahead, Steve, and do whatever you like.”

“Hurrah, then,” Charlie cried gladly, “let us give Bob an airing.”

At this instant Marmaduke again appeared before the boys, and opened his mouth to make some sage remark; but Stephen,--now all animation,--in tones whose cheerfulness took away the harshness of the words, silenced him, saying: “Stop your noise, Marmaduke. You’re a neuter verb, you know; and they mustn’t do anything.”

“Perhaps you ought to consult Bob himself,” Will suggested. “He might observe some valuable observations about his punishment.”

“Let the prisoner speak,” chimed in the irrepressible neutral one.

“Well, Bob,” said Charles languidly, “moisten your lips and tongue, and let us have your views. In the first place, what was your plot? What did you intend to do with Carlo?”

Bob scowled at the speaker and was silent. But finally, having thought bettor of it, he did as directed, and said, “I was only going to fool you fellers; I never meant to do more’n scare him,” looking at Stephen, “and then I was going to let his dog go. But,” sorrowfully, “you came along and spoilt it all.”

“Suppose Carlo had gone at your heels when you let him out of the box?” Charles asked.

Bob turned pale and muttered something in confusion.

“Well, what do you say about our turning the tables on you?” George asked.

“Nothin’,” the prisoner answered stoically, still playing the part of an orthodox villain. No; he, a boy of nearly seventeen years, would not again beg for mercy at the hands of his inferiors--in age; and he awaited his punishment with well-feigned indifference.

If the boys had been better versed in human nature, they would have known that this passive submission on his part boded evil to their future welfare.

Although Bob was acting like an orthodox villain, the six, in taking upon themselves to judge and punish him, were not acting like orthodox heroes. By no means. They were not the irreproachable youngsters who figure in octodecimo volumes. They all had an idea of the fitness of things; and all--even George and Will--thought it just and right that Bob should know, by actual experience, what Carlo’s feelings had been during his imprisonment.

_Chapter XXVIII._

THE TABLES TURNED WITH A VENGEANCE.

The six judges arose, and stood before the culprit.

The cage was critically examined, and Steve seemed to find it very amusing to point out its defects. Bob was pestered with questions about it, but he maintained a sullen silence, submitting doggedly to the inevitable.

“We must put you into narrow quarters for a little while, Bob,” Stephen said good-humoredly, “and try to disentangle a few leagues of this good cord.”

Two of the heroes supported Bob while Steve freed him from the rope. The discomfited plotter was too stiff to make much resistance, yet when he found himself free he struggled nervously, but feebly, to break away from his tormentors. Then Jim, who was trying to make himself useful, threw open the door of the cage, and Charles and Stephen dumped him gently in.

Now, Bob had not built the cage for such a purpose; consequently, he did not sit comfortable in it--worse still, it threatened to burst asunder. But it did not.

His feet and legs were got inside somehow, but his head was mercifully left out, exposed to the sun and air. His hat had fallen off when he sprang upon the raft, and been taken over the falls; but George, more humane than the others, took off his own hat, and placed it firmly, but gently, on the exposed head.

Unknown to the soi-disant judges, the boy was wedged so fast in his cage that he was powerless to help himself. Thus he was virtually a prisoner in the very prison that he had prepared for another! This was turning the tables with a vengeance! This was poetical justice!

Poor little villain! He must have been in an exceedingly cramped and uneasy position; but his pride and his orthodoxy came to his relief, and he would not complain to the pitiless arbitrators of his fate.

“Look here, boys,” George cried, “if you are bound to punish him, you ought to kick out the end of that box, so that he could sit up straight, like a man, and be comfortable.”

“Yes, it _is_ too bad,” Steve said pityingly. “But it will soon be over; and if we should go to tampering with the box, we might kick Bob in the stomach. Besides, Bob looks more forlorn than he is; and we have no business to destroy his boxes and things.--Now, where’s the rope, and then we will hurry through with it and let Bob out.”

About three hundred feet of the cord were disentangled, and once more the raft was set afloat with a prisoner on it.

In order to humble Bob still further, Steve intended to let Carlo carry the end of the rope in his mouth for a little way. But now he had not the heart to do it. As the raft floated along lazily, Steve essayed to give a shout of triumph, but it died away in his throat.

The dog, however, began to gambol, sneeze, and bark, in an extraordinary manner. During the trial he had been the only really neutral one, and now he seemed to enjoy himself more than any of the self-styled judges. Bob looked on in some uneasiness, but he need not have been alarmed, for the dog made no motion to swim out and attack him.

The boys did not exactly understand it, yet somehow they seemed to take no pleasure in floating Herriman down the stream; and instead of an exultant procession along the bank, they marched solemnly onward, hardly speaking, and each one becoming more and more ashamed of himself. George had a theory of his own about this, but he did not make it known.

Seeing that matters had gone so far, Steve and Charles did not wish to stop till Bob had had his ride; but they felt ill at ease, and their conscience almost persuaded them that they were in the wrong.

So with the entire five (Jim being, as the reader has doubtless divined, a mere supernumerary in this history, although he figures conspicuously once or twice.) From the moment they placed the boy in his cage they began to relent.

To any person coming upon them, this risible spectacle would have been presented: six boys marching gravely down the stream; some three hundred feet in advance a raft drifting lazily along; on said raft a box, from which protruded an enormous head,--large enough for a genius,--neatly covered with a now battered but once respectable--nay, fashionable--straw hat.

Thus the raft drifted till within a quarter of a mile of the falls. Then Stephen said, “Ever since I went over the falls I’ve felt too nervous to prowl around very near them; so let us pull her up stream now, and let Bob go when we get into port.”

All agreed to this, and the rope, which had hitherto been slack, was pulled taut. The raft stopped its downward course, and was drawn towards them--perhaps, half a foot.

Then something that might have been expected from the beginning happened.

The rope broke!

Unknown to them, the jagged edge of the raft had worn the rope all but in two while Bob was hauling the raft towards him. In this place it now parted.

There was consternation among the self-constituted punishers. In truth, it is impossible to describe their terror, anguish, and remorse. All through their own foolishness a fellow-creature was in imminent danger. To be swept over the falls in his helpless condition meant Death. And whatever was done must be done quickly.

The boys felt as guilty as criminals _ought_ to feel.

“Bob,” Charles screamed, “climb out, and jump into the river, and swim!”

“Oh, he can’t! he can’t!” Will cried, seeing that Bob was struggling desperately and vainly to get out of the box.

“George,” Steve cried wildly, “you spoke about swimming to the raft while Carlo was on it--swim now! Quick!”

“Of course,” the Sage replied, still a philosopher, but a perturbed one. “Yes, of course, I’ll go.”

To add to the confusion, stunning screams now came from Bob. He forgot that he was a villain; all his orthodoxy and stoicism forsook him; and he again brought his stentorian lungs into play. Far from having impaired his lungs on the night of George’s “experiment,” he seemed only to have strengthened them; and now he howled and bellowed like a wounded giant.

Cannot this be explained logically? The age of the romancer’s younger villains ranges between twenty-seven and thirty-nine; while the age of older villains varies greatly among different authors, and, much to the reader’s sorrow, is not always given. From this it would seem that Bob was too young to set up for a knave.

In view of this, the reader, having more discernment than the writer, suggests the following: The only reason why Bob had taken it so coolly was because he knew the boys too well to fear any harm from them. Besides, he had heard all that was said during the “trial,” and he saw that the boys’ anger towards him had abated. But when he found that the raft was no longer under their control, he naturally became alarmed.

Yes, Bob again began to discharge atrocious and high-sounding interjections.

All the boys saw that George was more composed than they; and by mutual consent, he was left to plan a rescue. His coat had been off ever since he prepared to swim to Carlos relief; and now he stripped off the rest of his clothes, plunged into the river, and swam boldly for the imperilled boy.

He had, however, more self-confidence than self-possession; or he would have run down the bank till opposite to the raft, and so have gained time. He now swam as fast as possible; but the raft was some distance in advance, and steadily drawing nearer the falls.

The boys watched George anxiously, but were too demoralized to aid him in any way.

“Hello, you vagabonds!” was thundered behind them. “What does all this noise mean?”

The heroes were startled; and on turning, were appalled to see a burly rustic coming towards them at a round pace.

“Oh, dear,” groaned Will; “why does this fellow want to come here just at this time?”

“Oh, dear,” echoed Charles, Stephen, Marmaduke, and Jim.

“What does all this mean, you young villains?” roared the new-comer.

“A boy is floating over,” Marmaduke gasped.

“Well, do you mean to let him float? Why don’t you get up and save him? Oh, you awful boys! This is murder--parricide--manslaughter--abduction--gravitation--parsimony! What do you suppose the law’s going to say about this? It--it is un-con-sti-tu-tion-al!”

The five trembled--Jim exceedingly. In fact, he seemed on the point of betaking himself to flight.

“I say, I’ll persecute you all for litigation!” the new-comer next observed.

He was an ignorant, brutal man, an inhabitant of the village. In his boyhood he had been snubbed by old and young; and now, in his manhood, he took delight in bullying all the boys he met.

“George Andrews, there, is trying to save him,” Will said, pointing at the swimmer.

“Humph! much _he’ll_ do!” growled the rustic. “Well, I’m going to set here (at this Marmaduke shuddered) till that boy is lost or saved. Its my duty to the Government, and I’ll do it if it takes all day.”

His duty to the Government, however, did not prompt him to take an active part in rescuing Bob, and he stretched himself along the bank and looked on with dogged composure.

George did not know of this man’s arrival. He swam bravely, but gained on the raft very slowly. His heart sank when he saw this, but he kept on hopefully, and just at the critical moment the raft grounded on a snag, and was held fast. Bob was saved! Not through human agency, however.

Bob ceased from howling, and George called out cheerily: “You are all right, Bob; and I’m--”