Further Adventures of Lad [26]
get it off, to save him. It stayed, that color, on 'em, till they'd shed the last one of last year's crop of feathers. Sure, I remember. Why wouldn't I? Didn't I git a dollar for holdin' 'em for you? And another dollar for keepin' my mouth shut? But what are you lottin' to do with the stuff, this time? No chickens here; or--"
"Nope," assented Higham. "No chickens here. Hold on, a second!"
He stood, musing. Then he spoke.
"I was going to play a lone hand, on this," he said, presently. "I didn't even dare let Rice in on it. He'd be dead-sure to tell that gabby girl he's going to marry. And it'd get all over the country in a week. And that'd lose me my job, if the boss heard of it. I was going to play it alone. That's why I left Rice and Willett to put up the dogs for me. But,--I'm blest if I know how I'm to hold him and dye him at the same time. He's as strong as an ox. You--you're a good, close-tongued kid, Harry. You kept your mouth shut about Price's chickens. Could you keep it shut,--for another dollar,--about this? If you'll do that, and lend me a hand--How about it?"
"What's the main idea?" asked the boy, much intrigued by the beauty of the dye on Higham's fingers; and squirming with embarrassed self-importance at the man's flattering tone. "I'll help out, all right. Only,--"
"Here's the notion," said Higham, coming out of momentary self-communion. "And if you ever spill it, your mail will be sent to you at the hosp't'l, for a spell. You saw that big dark sable collie I had you steer into Stall Five? It cost me another two dollars to get Abrams to let me have the use of that stall. The idea come to me, in a jolt, first crack of thunder I heard. Well, I'm due to 'get' that dog and the mucker who owns him, too. Them and I had a run-in, once; and I been honing for a chance to square things, ever since. I've seen 'em at shows and I've asked folks about 'em, too. He sets more store by that dog than he'd set by most humans. He's pleased as Punch, every time the collie hauls down a cup at one of these neighborhood shows. Well, that dog ain't going to be fit to go to another show, for a year. He ain't going to be fit to look at, for that long. He's going to be a laughing stock. His owners won't brag any more about him, neither. They'll be glad enough to keep him out of sight."
The boy, listening with ever-widening eyes, chanced to shift his gaze to the big bowl of new-mixed dye. And a light broke on him.
"You--you're aimin' to soak him with that stuff?" he whispered, in awe at such combined courage and genius.
"Uh-uh," assented Higham. "I don't know what color the crimson stuff will turn the dark part of his coat. But whatever color it is, it'll be as funny as a box of three-tailed snakes. I've put a glass of ammonia into the dye, to make it 'set' quicker. It--"
"Gee, but you're a wonder!" sighed the worshiping boy. "D'ye s'pose I'll ever git to be as smart as you are?"
"It all depends on how you make use of your brains," returned Higbam, complacently. "But I was some smarter than you to begin with. I--"
"But--"
Higham went on, more briskly:
"I've got this bag to put over his head when I open the stall door. That'll put him out of the biting business, till it's peeled away from his jaws, after he's got a real good rubbing. But he'll likely wriggle, a lot. And I'll need you to sit on his head. Likewise to carry this bowl and the sponge, while I'm opening the door and getting the bag over his head. Are you game?"
"I sure am!" breathed the enraptured boy.
"Come 'long, then. The stuff's ready; and we don't want to waste any time. Go ahead and see if there's anyone in that end of the stable." Two minutes later, the pair groped their way through the dense gloom, to Stall Five. They walked with exaggerated care; though the roar of the storm would have deadened the sound of a cavalry charge. Handing over the bowl and sponge to his assistant, Higham produced from under his coat a thick burlap bag with a drawstring at its neck. Then, he opened the door of the box stall, a few inches and stared
"Nope," assented Higham. "No chickens here. Hold on, a second!"
He stood, musing. Then he spoke.
"I was going to play a lone hand, on this," he said, presently. "I didn't even dare let Rice in on it. He'd be dead-sure to tell that gabby girl he's going to marry. And it'd get all over the country in a week. And that'd lose me my job, if the boss heard of it. I was going to play it alone. That's why I left Rice and Willett to put up the dogs for me. But,--I'm blest if I know how I'm to hold him and dye him at the same time. He's as strong as an ox. You--you're a good, close-tongued kid, Harry. You kept your mouth shut about Price's chickens. Could you keep it shut,--for another dollar,--about this? If you'll do that, and lend me a hand--How about it?"
"What's the main idea?" asked the boy, much intrigued by the beauty of the dye on Higham's fingers; and squirming with embarrassed self-importance at the man's flattering tone. "I'll help out, all right. Only,--"
"Here's the notion," said Higham, coming out of momentary self-communion. "And if you ever spill it, your mail will be sent to you at the hosp't'l, for a spell. You saw that big dark sable collie I had you steer into Stall Five? It cost me another two dollars to get Abrams to let me have the use of that stall. The idea come to me, in a jolt, first crack of thunder I heard. Well, I'm due to 'get' that dog and the mucker who owns him, too. Them and I had a run-in, once; and I been honing for a chance to square things, ever since. I've seen 'em at shows and I've asked folks about 'em, too. He sets more store by that dog than he'd set by most humans. He's pleased as Punch, every time the collie hauls down a cup at one of these neighborhood shows. Well, that dog ain't going to be fit to go to another show, for a year. He ain't going to be fit to look at, for that long. He's going to be a laughing stock. His owners won't brag any more about him, neither. They'll be glad enough to keep him out of sight."
The boy, listening with ever-widening eyes, chanced to shift his gaze to the big bowl of new-mixed dye. And a light broke on him.
"You--you're aimin' to soak him with that stuff?" he whispered, in awe at such combined courage and genius.
"Uh-uh," assented Higham. "I don't know what color the crimson stuff will turn the dark part of his coat. But whatever color it is, it'll be as funny as a box of three-tailed snakes. I've put a glass of ammonia into the dye, to make it 'set' quicker. It--"
"Gee, but you're a wonder!" sighed the worshiping boy. "D'ye s'pose I'll ever git to be as smart as you are?"
"It all depends on how you make use of your brains," returned Higbam, complacently. "But I was some smarter than you to begin with. I--"
"But--"
Higham went on, more briskly:
"I've got this bag to put over his head when I open the stall door. That'll put him out of the biting business, till it's peeled away from his jaws, after he's got a real good rubbing. But he'll likely wriggle, a lot. And I'll need you to sit on his head. Likewise to carry this bowl and the sponge, while I'm opening the door and getting the bag over his head. Are you game?"
"I sure am!" breathed the enraptured boy.
"Come 'long, then. The stuff's ready; and we don't want to waste any time. Go ahead and see if there's anyone in that end of the stable." Two minutes later, the pair groped their way through the dense gloom, to Stall Five. They walked with exaggerated care; though the roar of the storm would have deadened the sound of a cavalry charge. Handing over the bowl and sponge to his assistant, Higham produced from under his coat a thick burlap bag with a drawstring at its neck. Then, he opened the door of the box stall, a few inches and stared