CHAPTER XII

HOW HOD’S TROUSERS WENT TO THE SQUIRE’S HOUSE.

HANK leaned over the log,—his lank frame and astonishing length of limb favoring the execution of his stratagem,—and seized Lion by one of his hind legs while his attention was diverted by a feigned attack upon the treasure. Finding himself caught, the dog wheeled furiously; but on the instant Hank, swinging his hind-quarters upon the log, drew them between two prongs of an upright limb, forked near the trunk, where it was easy to hold him, with his head hanging.

“Now who’s got a good stout string?”

“Here’s a whiplash in Hod’s breeches pocket!”

Tug leaped the log with it, and assisted in lashing Lion’s hind legs to the limb, below the fork in which he was suspended by his thighs. The poor fellow’s struggling and yelping were of no avail: there he was, hung.

Meanwhile Cub held his pair of bags open, and the coin was emptied into them. The squire stooped with many a groan to pick up the scattered pieces that rolled on the ground. Then the well-freighted trousers were set astride Hank’s lofty neck; at which he began to prance and kick up, in playful imitation of a colt—or should we say a giraffe?—with a strange rider.

“Now ye needn’t but one of ye go with me,” said Peternot; “or at the most two.”

“Two can’t carry all that silver,” said Cub. “We must all help. And edge along towards Aunt Patsy’s wood-lot, if ye don’t want to meet Jack and the deacon. Comin’, Hod?”

“I can’t without my breeches!” replied the discontented youth.

In no very pleasant mood he saw his trousers ride off on Hank’s shoulders,—still visible above the undergrowth after the squire and the rest of his odd escort had disappeared from view. So great indeed was Hod’s chagrin at being left behind in this way, that he found it necessary at once to set himself about some sort of mischief. First he broke open the best of the remaining melons, and ate as much as he could of them. Then he gathered up all the rinds and fragments and placed them in the basket, together with bits of rotten wood, covering the whole with the frock which Jack had left spread over the coin.

“Now when he comes he’ll think his money is there, till he looks, then won’t he be mad!” With which happy thought Hod ran and hid in some bushes, where he could watch the fun.

Meanwhile Hod’s trousers, with their legs full of coin, were shifted from shoulder to shoulder of his big brothers, as the strange procession emerged from the woods and moved across Peternot’s pasture, the squire lamely bringing up the rear. Arrived at his house, he brought out a meal-sack, and the coin was emptied into it. He then took two of the half-dollars and offered them to Hank.

“What’s that fer?” said the tall youth, stooping to look at the money as if it had been some curious insect.

“I owe ye a dollar,” said Peternot.

“So ye du,” replied Hank, “but I prefer to take my pay in money as is money, if it’s the same thing to you.”

“You yourself said you believed this was bogus,” added Dock; “an’ I don’t s’pose you want to be hauled up for passin’ it.”

Peternot felt the force of the remark, and with a long face took from his pocket-book a bank-note, which he handed to Hank.

“The same to me, if you please,” said Dock. “I said a dollar _apiece_.”

The squire protested against such extortion, but finally, reminded that he had said two of the boys might come with him, he paid Dock also. Then Cub and Tug held out expectant hands; whereat he flew into a passion.

“I don’t even know ’t the coin is good; and d’ ye think I’m goin’ to submit to any such swindle? Clear out, you melon-thieves!”

“All right!” said Cub, coolly, with his hand on the meal-sack; “but if I don’t take my dollar with me, I take this right back where we found it, and give it to the boy.”

The firm position thus taken by Cub being approved by his brothers, especially by Tug, the poor old squire saw no way but to yield, and Cub and Tug were paid.

“Now a dollar for Hod,” said Hank.

“For Hod!” roared out the squire, like a man tortured beyond endurance. “Hod didn’t come!”

“But his breeches did. A dollar for his breeches,—if that will suit you any better. And quick!” said Hank, “or the coin goes into ’em agin, an’ back to the basket.”

“I hain’t got another dollar!” said Peternot, trembling with wrath and vexation.

“You’ve a V there; we can change it,” suggested Cub.

“Take it, and may the rum ye buy with it pizen ye, you pack o’ thieves and robbers!”

“That sounds well from you, that have jest robbed a poor boy of what you more ’n half believe is good money, but which we’re dumb sure is bogus, or else we never ’d have helped ye off with it. Thieves and robbers, hey? Hear him, boys!”

Hank laughed derisively, and all went off chuckling gleefully over their Sunday afternoon’s job, while the squire, entering his house, slammed and bolted the door behind them.