Chapter 2

They couldn't yet guess what _IT_ was. And it took a good many hours from his work and chores for the Toyman to finish IT, whatever IT was. But after about a week they saw standing against the wall four boards about two feet long, curved like this:

And four more cross-pieces of a very ordinary shape:

And one cross-piece with handles:

Then one very long one like this:

The thing to do was to guess what they would make when put together.

Just then the Toyman arrived with three barrel hoops. And he worked away with his tools until the hoops were almost straight. Then he made little holes in them and nailed them with little nails, very neatly, on the four long curved pieces of wood. Then he fastened these curved pieces together by nailing the cross-pieces between. He fastened the other pair in the same way, and the affair began to look something like catamarans, those funny boats the geographies say folks use in Australasia.

But when he nailed the big board on and attached the steering gear, it was easy to see what all the time the Toyman had been planning to make. And when he painted the runners yellow with a little blue edge running around them, and the seat bright red, with a white star on it, they decided it was the finest bobsled in the world.

And, oh yes, he had to paint the word "Scud" in blue letters, right near the star.

Yes sir, there was no doubt about it, it was the finest bobsled in the world--the _whole_ world, we mean.

And again the boys shouted, "Hooray!," together as in a chorus, not forgetting to add,--"And thank you, Toyman, _heaps_!"

Then they happened to think the bobsled was ready, but something else was missing--something very necessary, too.

"Now for the snow!" Jehosophat said.

"I can knock together a bobsled, sonny," the Toyman replied, "But I haven't any tools to make _that_."

So every night, when he said his prayers, Marmaduke added another sentence to "God bless Mamma an' Papa an' the Toyman an' Wienie an'" all the rest of his friends. Perhaps you can guess what it was. No? Well it sounded something like this:

"An' please, God, send us some snow,--a _whole lot of it_!"

Well, it came in about a week. On the twenty-third of November, to be exact.

It took only an hour to make the fields white, and only about three for the snow to pile deep enough to carry the new bobsled.

The Toyman looked at the sky, then at the ground, and then at his shop.

"Guess I'll knock off," he said. He was always knocking off work or something for the children.

But he had to stop their quarreling now. Each one wanted the honor of pulling the big bobsled first. For it was a thing to be proud of, with its yellow runners and the blue edge around them, and the red seat with the white star in the middle.

"You're as bad as the pigs in the corner pen," said the Toyman, "where are your manners?"

That settled it, of course. Turns! That was the proper way, and off they went.

But after all, "taking turns" wasn't as fine as the next thing the Toyman suggested.

"All jump on," he called, "and I'll be the cayuse."

That was a funny word he had learned out West, but by this time the children knew he meant _horse_. So the three, Jehosophat, Marmaduke, and Hepzebiah, sat on the red seat and were pulled through the snow, oh, ever so swiftly!

It was like riding through fairyland, for the branches above them were furred with white feathery snow, and the woods looked like some great lace design made by the Winter Queen who, they say, knits when the nights are cold and the Winter King is out at the club.

Soon they reached the hill. It was pretty steep and Jehosophat and Marmaduke wanted to get off and walk up so as to make it easier for the Toyman. He wouldn't hear of that, but just set his shoulders like Teddy in the shafts and puffed and pulled up hill.

On the fields the snow was light and feathery like powdered sugar, but on the hill it had been packed down hard by the coasters. There were so many of them, boys and girls from the neighborhood all around! Some were at the top, and some at the bottom, and some in the middle, sliding merrily down.

When the Three Happy Children reached the top of the hill the Toyman cried:

"I'll sit in front to steer and hold little Hepzebiah. You boys sit in back, Jehosophat at the end, and hold on to the grips."

Yes there were grips, too, for the Toyman hadn't forgotten anything that goes with a perfect sled.

"All aboard! Toot, toot!" he shouted, and Jehosophat yelled,--

"Clear the way!"

And down the hill they shot. It wasn't like any other kind of travel in the world. Perhaps it was more like flying than anything else, but that was funny, too, when you come to think of it, for when you fly you usually go up, and they were going down.

They reached the bottom all too soon, but the trip was worth the trouble of trudging back, especially as all the hard work was done by the Toyman.

When they reached the top again, once more he shouted, "All aboard, toot, toot!"

Some folks thought he was silly, and Mrs. Hamm, riding by in a buggy, on the road below, said to Mr. Hamm,--

"There's that good-for-nothing Frank Clark again, hollerin' like a wild Injun with all those children."

"Yes, Maria," agreed her husband. "I'd send him to the work'us if I was on the Township Committee."

But the Hamms, like many other people, were very stupid. Was the Toyman worth while? You just ask Jehosophat and Marmaduke and Hepzebiah and Wienerwurst, and hear what _they_ have to say.

Once during that long and glorious afternoon they had trouble. Fatty Hamm started it. It was the only thing he was good at--trouble and eating. And, of course, Reddy Toms and Dicky Means had to help him. Anyway, Fatty pushed Hepzebiah into a deep snowdrift--when he thought the Toyman wasn't looking. And Hepzebiah fell into the snowdrift head first so that only her legs could be seen, and they were kicking wildly in the air. Now the Toyman was busy untangling the rope, which had gotten mixed with the steering-gear, and he hadn't noticed Fatty and Reddy at their old tricks. But her two brothers pulled her out of the drift by her little kicking legs, and brushed her off and dried her tears. Then they went for Reddy and Fatty. Reddy ran away, but Fatty stood his ground, for he was much bigger than they. They had their fists clenched, and were going to punch him, very hard, I guess, when the Toyman looked up from his work and called,--

"What's the trouble, son?"

The boys explained it, but they kept their fists clenched just the same. They were rather excited, you see, and as soon as they were through telling the Toyman all about it, they wanted to pitch into "that ole Fatty."

But Fatty tried to lie out of it.

"She just fell herself," he said, half scared.

"She didn't, either," Jehosophat yelled, "he pushed her in." And he started to rush for the fat boy when the Toyman called,--

"Hold on there, let _me_ settle it."

He came over, and squinted his eyes thoughtfully like a judge, while Fatty twisted and squirmed and squirmed and twisted.

"I wouldn't hit him," said the Toyman, "Fatty's so fat it wouldn't do any good anyway. Your fists would only sink into him like dough. So I guess you'd better wash his face in the snow--_hard_ now."

So they did--very _hard_, as the Toyman had told them.

"Why, he's actually blubbering, the great big booby," said Jehosophat, "shame!"

Now there's no word in the language in which boys and girls join more readily than this same word "Shame." So they all took up the chorus, everybody on that hill. You know that chorus, and your parents know it, and your grandparents, and great grandparents, too, sang it, long, long before you were born.

"Shame, shame, puddin' an' tame. Everybody knows your name."

What pudding has to do with it probably none in the whole world knows. But it is a very effective song, and they one and all shouted it, dancing around Fatty and Reddy, and laughing at them; and the fat boy started to run away, yelling at the top of his lungs. But he stumbled over the bobsled, and the tangled ropes caught his feet and started him rolling down the hill. He didn't exactly roll, either, for he was so fat that he seemed to bounce like a rubber ball; and little Wienerwurst, who thought it all very fine sport, ran after him, nosing and snapping at him all the way down that hill. Then, when he reached the bottom, coward Fatty picked himself up and "made tracks" for home.

It was to--be sure, an odd sort of punishment that the Toyman ordered for Fatty. It was just such things that made Mr. and Mrs. Hamm and all the neighbors shake their heads over the Toyman and say he was crazy. But Jehosophat, who had heard it said that Solomon was a wonderful judge, knew one that could beat Solomon--and he was the Toyman.

Perhaps he was right. At all events, the children were ever so happy, as they coasted down, down the hill on that big bobsled, which they did till the stars came out, and, far over the fields, the supper bell sounded.

III

THE JOLLY ROGER

Marmaduke thought he knew now what it meant to be in jail. For three whole days he had had to stay in the house. For three whole days and nights, too, it had rained--"rained pitchforks." That is what Father said, but Marmaduke could see nothing but prongs. There were thousands of them, coming down through the air. _Where_ were the handles? He looked a long time, thinking that perhaps they had gotten loose from the prongs and would come down afterwards, but never a handle came.

They must be having haying time, the folks in the sky, to use so many forks, he decided, and the sun must be shining for them, way up above the clouds, or they wouldn't have haying weather. But maybe, after all, it was wet there, too, and they had just grown disgusted, and were throwing their forks away, every last one of them.

Yes, it was pretty lonesome and dull, staying in the house like this. To be sure, once in a while, when the rain slackened a little and the pitchforks didn't come down so fast, he could put on his rubber boots and go out to the barn. But for most of the time he had been a prisoner--in jail.

He looked out at the Pond. So much water had fallen in it that it was swelling up like a pouter pigeon, or like the bowl that held the Chinese Lily, when he dropped pebbles in it.

My, how Duckie the Stepchild must like this weather! There he was now, and his father and his mother and all his relatives. All just letting the water run off their backs and having a grand time. But Father Wyandotte and all his family were sticking pretty close to the coops. Funny how ducks liked water and chickens didn't, all but the Gold Rooster on the top of the barn. _He_ never seemed to mind it a bit. Marmaduke looked for him up in the sky, but he was almost hidden by the rain and the gray mist, and stood there on his high perch, swinging from East to North, and back again.

But he grew tired of watching the Gold Rooster, and looked up the pasture for his friend, the Brook. It wasn't hard to find, for it had grown so big and stretched almost to the fence-rails now, and was racing along towards the Pond, growing wider and wider every minute--just like Marmaduke's eyes.

"Crackey! Sposin' there should be a flood!" exclaimed Jehosophat.

"Wouldn't that be fine!" said Marmaduke.

"Fine!" Jehosophat cried. "What would you do? It might rise an' rise till the barnyard'd be covered, an' the road an' all the country an' the whole world."

"Like Noah's flood, you mean?"

"Yes, just like Noah's, only he isn't here to build any ole ark for you to get on."

"I don't care," said Marmaduke stoutly.

"You don't care!" cried his brother. "Why, you'd drown, that's what you'd do!"

"No, I wouldn't either--" Marmaduke seemed very sure about this--"'cause," he started to explain.

"'Cause what?"

"'Cause the Toyman is as good as ole Noah any day," replied the little boy. "He could build an ark as big as a house, as big as the Church, an' the ducks'd get on an' the cows an' the horses an'--"

"Yes," interrupted his brother, "but don't you remember--there were only two of each kind. Now Hal an' Teddy could get on, but White Boots an' Ole Methusaleh'd have to stay off, an' Rover an' Brownie could go, but Wienerwurst couldn't--see?"

Marmaduke looked frightened at this--at the very thought of Wienerwurst, his little doggie, trying to swim around in a terrible flood.

"I'd hide him under my coat," he declared.

"You couldn't get on yourself," Jehosophat insisted, "I tell you an ark only takes two of each sort of people an' animals an' chickens and things. Now Mother and Father could go--that's two grown-ups, an' Hepzebiah an' me, but you an' Wienie would have to swim around in the water just as long as you could, then go under--way under, too," he added.

Perhaps he was only teasing, but Marmaduke didn't take it quite that way. It seemed very serious. Then suddenly he had a bright idea.

"You forgot the _Toyman_," he shouted, "and that makes another two, for the Toyman an' I are just alike. Didn't Mother say,--'He's nothing but a boy.' So I'd sneak Wienie under my coat--if it was ol' Noah's ark--an' if it was the Toyman's, why he'd let me in anyway."

Jehosophat had no answer at all for this, and all they could do now was to watch the rain and the Pond and the Brook, but Marmaduke was very happy picturing to himself the big Ark which the Toyman would build, and how he would help, and the fine time, too, he and all the animals would have, living together under the very same roof.

Of course, the rain had to stop some time. It always does in the end. And on the sixth day the Sun came out jolly and warm again, and the boys put on their rubber boots and went out to the Pond. They couldn't get quite as near it as usual, for the edge was almost at the Ducks' house now, and not so very far from the house of the White Wyandottes, who seemed to think the end of the world had come, and looked very sad with their draggled feathers.

For a little while the boys threw sticks in the water. When the dogs had fetched the sticks they would shake the water from their coats and over the boys, just like shower baths. It was all very jolly, and I don't know which the children enjoyed more, throwing the sticks or the nice cool showers.

But after a while they tired of this, too, and walked up the pasture to see the Brook.

There it was, racing and romping and tearing along for dear life. It wasn't clear and silvery now, but muddy and brown as if a thousand cups of coffee had been spilled in it. And on it floated many strange things,--branches of trees and a fence-rail, the roof of a pig-pen, an old shoe, and one poor drowned sheep.

"Maybe," said Jehosophat, "maybe, if we watch long enough, some pirates'll come sailin' along with big hats an' swords an'--"

"An' knives in their mouths," Marmaduke suggested.

"But that's not the best thing," Jehosophat went on, "they'll have a flag with a skull an' dead men's bones painted on it."

"Crackey!" exclaimed his brother, just like the big boys. It was a fine word, too, but only to be used on special occasions. And pirates and skulls and dead men's bones certainly made a "special occasion."

Jehosophat seemed to think so, too, for he was singing in high glee,

"Yo, ho, ho, And a bottle of bay rum."

As these last dread words died on the air, they thought they heard a sound behind them. It was something like a laugh--more, perhaps, like a chuckle. They turned and saw nothing but the high board fence of the cowyard, and, over by the barn, the Toyman, walking very swiftly towards his workshop. Now usually they would have wondered about that; tried to guess what he "would make," but this morning there were other, very grave, things taking their attention.

"Guess it was pirates--ssshhh!" whispered Jehosophat, "they may have disbarked an' be hidin' in the bushes."

But a way of escape was open. It was coming down the stream.

Jehosophat spied it.

"The very thing!" he cried.

It was a big gate which had been carried off by the flood; and it was tossed first to this side and then to the other by the brown water.

"I hope it catches on something an' stops," cried Marmaduke. And they hurried down the Brook towards the Pond. They had to walk pretty fast, too, almost run, to keep up with the gate.

Jehosophat looked ahead.

"Those big roots of the walnut tree might stop it," he said.

And sure enough the gate was caught by the roots and swung in under the branches. The water was more quiet here than out in the stream and it made a fine harbor for the ship. For, you see, after all, it was not a gate but a _ship_!

But they must make sure of their prize. So Jehosophat ran to the barn and fetched some rope. With this he made the ship fast to the trunk of the tree, that is, to the wharf in Walnut Harbour.

But there was more work to be done, for the ship had been damaged by the storm.

"You stand watch an' keep off all pirates," ordered Jehosophat. "I'll be back in three shakes of a lamb's tail."

It was rather a scary thing to stand guard all alone with pirates around, but Marmaduke stuck by the ship and Jehosophat went on his errand.

As he entered the door, the Toyman hid something, quite hurriedly, under a sack. Now that was very mysterious, but the messenger only said to himself, "Guess he's making something for my birthday," then asked aloud,--

"Please, may I have some boards and some nails?"

"To be sure, Mr. Ship's Carpenter."

It was fine to be called that, though Jehosophat wondered how the Toyman knew what he was, when they hadn't told a soul. But then the Toyman knew most everything, all their plans as soon as made.

It didn't take long to mend that ship. Soon the boards were nailed across and the deck was ready for the crew.

"All aboard!" shouted Jehosophat, and then even more loudly,--

"All ashore that's goin' ashore!"

Having said this very splendidly, he turned to his brother.

"I'm Captain Kidd," he told him.

"And what's me?" shouted back Marmaduke excitedly, and excitement is always bad for grammar.

"Oh, you! You're my slave," his brother informed him--in a very grand manner.

This didn't seem to suit Marmaduke, and he tried hard to remember a name Reddy Toms had told him, out of a book of Reddy's, all about pirates and things. But he couldn't think of it at all.

Just then a voice shouted,--

"What ho, Dick Deadeye!"

It was the Toyman, who had been standing in the doorway watching them.

"Dick Deadeye--whew!" Marmaduke rolled the name under his tongue like something that tasted very nice. He was completely satisfied now.

Then something still nicer happened, for, when their backs were turned, something whistled through the air and fell at their feet. Real swords! One for each of them! Now we said they were _real_ swords, and they were, though they were made of wood. They could do a lot of damage. The pirates would find that out soon enough. And there was a flag, too, with bones and a skull on it, just as Jehosophat had said.

"Why, it's the Jolly Roger," he told his brother, "that's what they call this flag."

But where did they come from? Marmaduke sort of suspected the Toyman, but he had disappeared, and Jehosophat said,--

"They must have dropped from Heaven an' were sent us to 'venge the people the pirates have killed. It's a sign. Guess we're not pirates after all, but just good sailors an' we'll scrunch those pirates."

Then he thought for a moment.

"But I guess we'll keep this flag anyway, even if it is the pirates'."

And they kept their names as well. They were far too fine to give up.

But just as they were about to go aboard, the Toyman came to the shore.

"What ho!" he said, then again, "what ho!"

That sounded exciting--not like a game at all, but like real life! And he was "saying some more,"--

"Avast, me hearties, what's in the wind?"

This last was a very odd question, for whatever could be in the wind, when you can see right through it and it can't hold anything at all. Strange talk it was, to be sure, and the neighbors would never have understood it. Still, folks never understood the Toyman and his language anyway, but _they_ did, and Marmaduke called,--"Come 'n, Toyman," when Captain Kidd corrected him.

"Pshaw! That's not the way to say it. You just listen to me."

Then he raised his hands to his mouth like a trumpet and called,--

"Ho, there, you landlubber, will you ship with us?"

The Toyman touched his hat.

"Thankee kindly, Cap'n, but I've killed many a pirate in my time. Now it's _your_ chance. But it's blowin' great guns an' ye'd better cruise near shore."

"Ay, ay, sir," shouted the captain as a last farewell, then they set sail. They made quite a voyage of it and had some trouble, for the waves were rough and the seas were high, but they reached port safely at last.

They hadn't seen anything of the pirates yet, and they decided to make another try for it when Hepzebiah came to the wharf. She wanted to sail too, but the Captain only said, very thoughtfully,--

"It's not safe for the women an' children."

However, she cried so hard that they just had to let her on board.

"But if you come, you'll have to be my slave," the Captain told her.

Perhaps that is the reason why he let her sail at all. He wanted a slave very much and since Marmaduke wouldn't be one and was Dick Deadeye anyway, why, the little girl would have to do. Still she didn't care what she was called as long as she could sail on that fine ship.

So they sailed and they sailed, the white flag with the skull and the dead men's bones floating merrily in the breeze. And at last Dick Deadeye called,--

"Cracky! Look where we are! You'd better go back. Remember what the Toyman told us."

But Captain Jehosophat Kidd knew better.

"Pshaw! It isn't deep at all. It wouldn't drown a rat--not even a little mouse."

Then there _was_ trouble.

They heard shouts along the shore, and, looking back, saw Fatty Hamm, Reddy Toms, and Sammy Soapstone, jumping around like wild Indians. They looked again--sharply this time--and saw that it wasn't boys after all, but pirates, wicked, cruel, bloodthirsty pirates! And that was bad enough!

"They're trying to capture us," shouted brave Captain Kidd, then, forgetting that his ship was a full-rigged ship and went by sail, he called,

"Row, brothers, row, The stream runs fast."

You see, he remembered that from a poetry book he had read once and thought it would just suit.

And all the time the crew of the "Jolly Roger" looked angrily back at shore.

"Splash!"

A big stone fell near them. No, it wasn't a stone. It was a--cannon ball! The pirates on shore were trying to knock holes in their ship!

"You're awful shots," the Captain jeered fearlessly. "We're coming ashore to capture your cannon." He was very brave through all these trying times--and so were the crew. And they just turned their ship around and headed straight for the shore, though the cannon balls fell all around them.

But now a more terrible danger threatened. For the rascals on shore had seized long poles and were reaching out over the water, trying to smash holes in the ship, to stove in its hull.

"They're grapplin' irons and marlin spikes," explained the Captain, "and very terrible weapons." He must have been right, for he knew the ways of the sea.

Meantime the ship was beginning to rock. The crew looked around for rescue, but none was in sight.

"We'll sink your ole ship," shouted Pirate Fatty. "You're awful sailors."

And all the time, up and down, and down and up, went the poor little ship. Would they drown? Far off, Dick Deadeye saw the Toyman running, running as fast as he could towards shore. And Rover, too. He was barking for all he was worth, seeming to think it fun. But Rover was only a dog, and couldn't realize the danger at all.