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Updated: May 13, 2025
Sid DuPree says they buy those things and he ought to know. He spent summer before last down South with his ma!" "Where'd we get the money to buy 'em in the first place?" asked the practical Silvey. His chum's face clouded. "Shucks, Sil, you're always spoiling things. But," more hopefully, "we needn't really worry about money anyway.
John opened the door, and Silvey came panting into the hallway with skates in one eager hand. "Come on over to the lagoon with me," he shouted breathlessly. John looked at his mother. "How about your supper?" He shrugged his shoulders impatiently. Hadn't he eaten enough candy for a dozen suppers? "Please let me go, Mother," he concluded. "Please. It's Christmas!"
The physician grinned sheepishly and took a few swift strides after the dancing figure. Silvey waited until he was almost at the wire railroad fence, and retreated to one of the back yards on the opposite side of the embankment. As the doctor retraced his steps to the sidewalk, the boys gazed thoughtfully at the depleted supply of ammunition. John turned to Skinny Mosher.
Mother was inexorable on such occasions, and never had there been a time on record, no matter what the weeping or wailing, when a gating had been lifted. So he would meet his punishment without further ado. Silvey went disconsolately back towards home, and the prisoner returned to his room and stared from the window which overlooked the railroad tracks.
"Isn't this great?" the red-haired one asked blissfully. Sid reverted to the cause for the summons of the clan. "How about the 'Jeffersons'?" he asked. Babel reigned instantly. Silvey was for picking them off, one by one. Red counseled a sudden descent in force upon the home haunts of the enemy. A rear window in the Silvey house creaked upward, and a feminine voice pierced the sun-filled air.
Besides the fellow never steps where he ought to." John spat with sudden deliberation at a chip of wood on the turf. "Who can get a lot of tomato cans without any holes in them?" Silvey mentioned a city dump just north of the park, where cans of all sizes and conditions were to be found. His chum nodded approvingly.
They drew hastily away from the opening as a purple, distorted face glared up into theirs. A moment later, he was kicking at the back door. "That's bolted, too," said Silvey thankfully. "I guess we're safe." At last he left and went around to the front. They listened for a second attack from that quarter. Not a sound in the house, save the dripping of a leaky faucet in the bathroom.
As he stood up, one of his lady's feet started off on an unauthorized expedition, and she grabbed him by the arm with a fervency which nearly proved disastrous. "Don't start again just yet," she begged. "I'm tired." As they stood there, a pounding, scurrying figure in black, Red Brown, sped past at top speed. Silvey followed closely, noted the situation, and slowed up.
Then came the building of the Dragon, for war must be waged on the sea as well as by land, and a call of, "Oh, John-e-e-e-e! Oh, John-e-e-e-e!" He stood up regretfully. One of his legs was cramped from lying motionless so long, and he limped into the front room. Silvey was below on the water-streaked walk. "Come on out!" "Can't. She found out about my hitching this morning." "Aw-w-w, come on.
They had walked home from school together that afternoon, and instructions upon the proper way of opening a meeting had been profuse. Silvey grew palpably nervous. "This here meeting," he blurted at last. "That isn't the way I told you." John shook the revolver in disapproval. "Meeting will now come to order." "Meeting will now come to order," Silvey repeated mechanically.
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