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Updated: June 27, 2025
But there was one person his story did involve, and that was Spiker, the tinhorn, tenderfoot sport of Noches. During the absence of this young man at the gaming table, Jim and his friend, Sam Weaver, had got into his room with a skeleton key and searched it thoroughly.
Four of us so much the better! I had never seen this Edith, but Tim is a wonderful judge of women. So I let him talk, on and on about the city and his life there, until we reached the house. We found that Mrs. Spiker had secured her rights, and was on duty that day as nurse. The young doctor was there, too, as were Mrs. Tip Pulsifer and a half dozen others, a goodly company to greet us.
Elmer Spiker was standing by him; the young doctor was moving about the room, apparently very busy; Mrs. Tip Pulsifer was peeping in at the door. "Didn't you know," said Weston, "how I'd shot myself all to pieces, and how there's a live fox in the hollows across the ridge?" "Mark told me of it," answered the innocent Tim, "and I'm glad to find it is not serious. They were worried at the store. Mr.
Henry Spiker, who had hitherto been very distant, entered into a defensive alliance against us, the common enemy, and exchanged a mysterious dialogue across the table for our defeat and overthrow. 'That affair of the first bond for four thousand five hundred pounds has not taken the course that was expected, Spiker, said Mr. Gulpidge. 'Do you mean the D. of A.'s? said Mr. Spiker.
There is always something doing there, and I opened the door a crack to hear what was under discussion. Catching the same refrain that troubled Elmer Spiker, I entered. "What of it?" I demanded, facing the company. "I don't believe there is a man here who ever thrashed the teacher."
"But there are no ghosts," I argued. "We know that," returned Mrs. Pulsifer. "Everybody knows that, but it's never made any difference." "A graveyard is a graveyard even if there is no bodies in it," said Mrs. Spiker, planting herself behind me so as to cut off further retreat.
But you're no spiker or capper or boss. I know that sort. And I can spot a gambler a mile. The whole world meets out here in Benton. But not many young men like you wander into my place." "Like me? How so?" "The men here are wolves on the scent for flesh; like bandits on the trail of gold.... But you you're like my friend Ancliffe." "Who is he?" asked Neale, politely. "WHO is he? God only knows.
"Swim away, my lad," cried old Dick, hoarsely, "and get ashore, I'm only an old 'un, and I'll get a grip of his spiker if I can." "No, no, Dick, keep with me," panted Bob, who saw in Dick's words a determination on the brave old fellow's part to sacrifice his life that he might live. "No, my lad, it's no use. Swim on," cried Dick, "they're here. Tell the skipper I did my dooty like a man."
"At noon one day, about six weeks ago, Weston rode up to the tavern on a bicycle and told Elmer Spiker he was going to stay to dinner. He loafed about all that afternoon, and stayed that day and the next, and ever since. First there came a trunk for him, and then a dog.
"I don't care if Teacher Thomas can recite better than Demosthenes himself," I snapped. "In this school we say Douglas." My crutch emphasized this mandate, but I could not see how it was received, for every scholar's face was hidden from me by a book. "Now, Abraham, six lines." Abraham Lincoln Spiker was two years younger than Ira Snarkle, but he seemed much taller and correspondingly thinner.
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