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Uncle Ben looked up. "I oughter told ye that Rupe didn't kalkilate to come to day." "Indeed why not?" "I reckon because I told him he needn't. I allowed to to hev a little private talk with ye, Mr. Ford, if ye didn't mind." Mr. Ford's face did not shine with invitation. "Very well," he said, "only remember I have an engagement this afternoon."
On this account, Rupe Collins was peculiarly unfortunate. He was plucky and he enjoyed conflict, but neither his ambitions nor his anticipations had ever included murder. He had not learned that an habitually aggressive person runs the danger of colliding with beings in one of those lower stages of evolution wherein theories about "hitting below the belt" have not yet made their appearance.
They were still giving us the fullest co-operation, but we hadn't been keeping them as thoroughly read in as we would have liked to. I had a hunch that something was bothering these people. Then finally Major Sadowski said, "Look, Rupe, are you giving us the straight story on these UFO's?"
Such a canoe-steersman as Rupe never was known before or since: he knew every rock in every rapid from the Ottawa to the Columbia." Some time after this I again fell in with young Rupe, under circumstances indicating that his life was not considered quite so valuable as that of the old gentleman from whom he inherited his frightful aspect.
"Nothin'. I only said it was good money." Mr. Schofield shook his head, dismissing the subject; and here he made a mistake: he should have followed up his son's singular contribution to the conversation. That would have revealed the fact that there was a certain Rupe Collins whose father was a foreman at the ladder works. All clues are important when a boy makes his first remark in a new key.
We're goin' to make some policemen's billies out of the rake handle." "You go' spoil new rake you' pa bought?" "What do WE care? I and Rupe got to have billies, haven't we?" "How you make 'em?" "Melt lead and pour in a hole we're goin' to make in the end of 'em. Then we're goin' to carry 'em in our pockets, and if anybody says anything to us OH, oh! look out!
Thereupon was Penrod's treachery to an old comrade properly rewarded, for as the two struggled, Rupe caught each by the back of the neck, simultaneously, and, with creditable impartiality, forced both boys to their knees. "Lick dirt!" he commanded, forcing them still forward, until their faces were close to the stable floor. At this moment he received a real surprise.
Rupe, for instance?" he asked significantly. "In course not," replied Uncle Ben with a slight stiffening of wounded pride. "On'y yourself, Mr. Ford, and the young feller Stacey from the bank ez was obligated to know it. In fact, I wos kalkilatin' to ask you to help me talk to him about that yer boundary land." Mr. Ford's scepticism was at last staggered.
"Who you callin' 'bo?" was the ungracious response, accompanied by immediate action of a similar nature. Rupe held Penrod's head in the crook of an elbow and massaged his temples with a hard-pressing knuckle. "I was only in fun, Rupie," pleaded the sufferer, and then, being set free, "Come here, Sam," he said. "What for?" Penrod laughed pityingly. "Pshaw, I ain't goin' to hurt you. Come on."
With a loud whack something struck the back of his head, and, turning, he beheld Verman in the act of lifting a piece of lath to strike again. "Em moys ome!" said Verman, the Giant Killer. "He tongue-tie'," Herman explained. "He say, let 'em boys alone." Rupe addressed his host briefly: "Chase them nigs out o' here!" "Don' call me nig," said Herman. "I mine my own biznuss. You let 'em boys alone."
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