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Updated: May 12, 2025
Then you can chip in an even third, Cy, and we'll order an A I rifle, the best ever invented, from the best company in America, silver plate, with his name, and all the rest of it. I'd swamp my allowance for a year to see Herb's face when he gets it." "That's the plan! You do have occasional moments of wisdom, Dol; I'll say that much for you," commented the leader.
His comrades had already disappeared when he turned and sprang for the camp-door with his limp burden, but his moccasined foot kicked against something. A great hiccough which was almost a sob rose from Herb's throat. It was his one valuable possession, his 45-90 Winchester rifle, his second self, which he had rested against the log wall. "Good-by, Old Blazes!" he grunted.
It was a most tedious business, not more than half a dozen shoots of garlic being discoverable in the whole field; yet such was the herb's pungency that probably one bite of it by one cow had been sufficient to season the whole dairy's produce for the day.
When his paroxysm had subsided, and he stood off to get breath, Garst hailed again. Glad sound! An answer this time! First, a shrill, long "Coo-hoo!" Next, Herb's voice was heard pealing from far away in the bog: "What's up, boys? Where in the world are you?" "Here in the trees treed by a bull-moose!" yelled Cyrus. "He's the maddest old monster you ever saw.
I ain't stuck on carrying 'em either, if we can get a jumper." But there was a third reason, still more powerful than these two, why he should make a trip to the distant town, which stirred Herb's mind while he stirred his cakes.
Then again there was silence almost absolute, Herb's oars moving with the softest swish imaginable, as the boat skimmed along the lonely, curved bay which he had chosen for a calling-place. It came to a stop amid shadows so dense and black that they seemed almost tangible, close to a bank fringed with overhanging bushes, having a background of evergreens.
The chap in the tonneau was Joe Snead, too fat and indolent to take part in any game of an athletic nature. "This is the house, Dade," said Foxhall; "this is where your friend boards, all right." "Humph!" grinned Newbert. "It doesn't look swell enough to suit Herb's style. He's the real warm article, as you'll realize when you see him.
Herb's attention had wandered somewhat, because in the back of his mind there still lurked the idea of buying a set ready made. Jimmy had been somewhat distracted by looking about in various parts of the barn to see if he could detect the presence of any "eats," and his ideas were somewhat hazy in consequence. "Well, boys," at last said the doctor, with a smile, "I guess we'll call it a day.
Side by side with Cyrus, the boy had just gained the top of the ridge when the guide suddenly backed upon him, Herb's great shoulder-blade knocking him in the face, so that he had to plant his feet firmly to avoid spinning back. But Herb had heard that guttural crooning. Just now he could hear nothing else. Twice he made a heaving effort to speak, and the voice cracked in his throat.
Meantime, Herb and Jimmy had been treated to the surprise of their lives. Shortly after supper Jimmy had whistled the familiar call in front of Herb's house, and when his friend had emerged had invited him to come to his house that evening. "You know I've got my set rigged up now," he said, "the one that I entered for the Ferberton prize.
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