THE COUPON BONDS
BY J.T. TROWBRIDGE
(Mr. and Mrs. Ducklow have secretly purchased bonds with money thatshould have been given to their adopted son Reuben, who has sacrificedhis health in serving his country as a soldier, and, going to visitReuben on the morning of his return home, they hide the bonds under thecarpet of the sitting-room, and leave the house in charge of Taddy,another adopted son.)
* * * * *
Mr. Ducklow had scarcely turned the corner of the street, when, lookinganxiously in the direction of his homestead, he saw a column of smoke.It was directly over the spot where he knew his house to be situated. Heguessed at a glance what had happened. The frightful catastrophe heforeboded had befallen. Taddy had set the house afire.
"Them bonds! them bonds!" he exclaimed, distractedly. He did not thinkso much of the house: house and furniture were insured; if they wereburned the inconvenience would be great indeed, and at any other timethe thought of such an event would have been a sufficient cause fortrepidation; but now his chief, his only anxiety was the bonds. Theywere not insured. They would be a dead loss. And, what added sharpnessto his pangs, they would be a loss which he must keep a secret, as hehad kept their existence a secret,--a loss which he could not confess,and of which he could not complain. Had he not just given his neighborsto understand that he had no such property? And his wife,--was she notat that very moment, if not serving up a lie upon the subject, at leastparing the truth very thin indeed?
"A man would think," observed Ferring, "that Ducklow had some o' thembonds on his hands, and got scaret, he took such a sudden start. He has,hasn't he, Mrs. Ducklow?"
"Has what?" said Mrs. Ducklow, pretending ignorance.
"Some o' them cowpon bonds. I rather guess he's got some."
"You mean Gov'ment bonds? Ducklow got some? 'Tain't at all likely he'dspec'late in them without saying something to _me_ about it. No, hecouldn't have any without my knowing it, I'm sure."
How demure, how innocent she looked, plying her knitting-needle, andstopping to take up a stitch! How little at that moment she knew ofDucklow's trouble and its terrible cause!
Ducklow's first impulse was to drive on and endeavor at all hazards tosnatch the bonds from the flames. His next was to return and alarm hisneighbors and obtain their assistance. But a minute's delay might befatal: so he drove on, screaming, "Fire! fire!" at the top of his voice.
But the old mare was a slow-footed animal; and Ducklow had no whip. Hereached forward and struck her with the reins.
"Git up! git up!--Fire! fire!" screamed Ducklow. "Oh, them bonds! thembonds! Why didn't I give the money to Reuben? Fire! fire! fire!"
By dint of screaming and slapping, he urged her from a trot into agallop, which was scarcely an improvement as to speed, and certainlynot as to grace. It was like the gallop of an old cow. "Why don't ye go'long?" he cried, despairingly.
Slap! slap! He knocked his own hat off with the loose end of the reins.It fell under the wheels. He cast one look behind, to satisfy himselfthat it had been very thoroughly run over and crushed into the dirt, andleft it to its fate.
Slap! slap! "Fire! fire!" Canter, canter, canter! Neighbors looked outof their windows, and, recognizing Ducklow's wagon and old mare in suchan astonishing plight, and Ducklow himself, without his hat, rising fromhis seat and reaching forward in wild attitudes, brandishing the reins,and at the same time rending the azure with yells, thought he must beinsane.
He drove to the top of the hill, and, looking beyond, in expectation ofseeing his house wrapped in flames, discovered that the smoke proceededfrom a brush-heap which his neighbor Atkins was burning in a field nearby.
The revulsion of feeling that ensued was almost too much for theexcitable Ducklow. His strength went out of him. For a little whilethere seemed to be nothing left of him but tremor and cold sweat.Difficult as it had been to get the old mare in motion, it was now evenmore difficult to stop her.
"Why, what has got into Ducklow's old mare? She's running away with him!Who ever heard of such a thing!" And Atkins, watching the ludicrousspectacle from his field, became almost as weak from laughter as Ducklowwas from the effects of fear.
At length Ducklow succeeded in checking the old mare's speed and inturning her about. It was necessary to drive back for his hat. By thistime he could hear a chorus of shouts, "Fire! fire! fire!" over thehill. He had aroused the neighbors as he passed, and now they wereflocking to extinguish the flames.
"A false alarm! a false alarm!" said Ducklow, looking marvelouslysheepish, as he met them. "Nothing but Atkins's brush-heap!"
"Seems to me you ought to have found that out 'fore you raised allcreation with your yells!" said one hyperbolical fellow. "You lookedlike the Flying Dutchman! This your hat? I thought 'twas a dead cat inthe road. No fire! no fire!"--turning back to his comrades,--"only oneof Ducklow's jokes."
Nevertheless, two or three boys there were who would not be convinced,but continued to leap up, swing their caps, and scream "Fire!" againstall remonstrance. Ducklow did not wait to enter his explanations, but,turning the old mare about again, drove home amid the laughter of theby-standers and the screams of the misguided youngsters. As heapproached the house, he met Taddy rushing wildly up the street.
"Thaddeus! Thaddeus! Where ye goin', Thaddeus?"
"Goin' to the fire!" cried Taddy.
"There isn't any fire, boy."
"Yes, there is! Didn't ye hear 'em? They've been yellin' like fury."
"It's nothin' but Atkins's brush."
"That all?" And Taddy appeared very much disappointed. "I thought therewas goin' to be some fun. I wonder who was such a fool as to yell firejust for a darned old brush-heap!"
Ducklow did not inform him.
"I've got to drive over to town and get Reuben's trunk. You stand by themare while I step in and brush my hat."
Instead of applying himself at once to the restoration of his beaver, hehastened to the sitting-room, to see that the bonds were safe.
"Heavens and 'arth!" said Ducklow.
The chair, which had been carefully planted in the spot where they wereconcealed, had been removed. Three or four tacks had been taken out, andthe carpet pushed from the wall. There was straw scattered about.Evidently Taddy had been interrupted, in the midst of his ransacking, bythe alarm of fire. Indeed, he was even now creeping into the house tosee what notice Ducklow would take of these evidences of his mischief.
In great trepidation the farmer thrust in his hand here and there, andgroped, until he found the envelope precisely where it had been placedthe night before, with the tape tied around it, which his wife had puton to prevent its contents from slipping out and losing themselves.Great was the joy of Ducklow. Great also was the wrath of him when heturned and discovered Taddy.
"Didn't I tell you to stand by the old mare?"
"She won't stir," said Taddy, shrinking away again.
"Come here!" And Ducklow grasped him by the collar.
"What have you been doin'? Look at that!"
"'Twan't me!" beginning to whimper and ram his fists into his eyes.
"Don't tell me 'twan't you!" Ducklow shook him till his teeth chattered."What was you pullin' up the carpet for?"
"Lost a marble!" sniveled Taddy.
"Lost a marble! Ye didn't lose it under the carpet, did ye? Look at allthat straw pulled out!" shaking him again.
"Didn't know but it might 'a' got under the carpet, marbles roll so,"explained Taddy, as soon as he could get his breath.
"Wal, sir,"--Ducklow administered a resounding box on his ear,--"don'tyou do such a thing again, if you lose a million marbles!"
"Hain't got a million!" Taddy wept, rubbing his cheek. "Hain't got butfour! Won't ye buy me some to-day?"
"Go to that mare, and don't you leave her again till I come, or I'll_marble_ ye in a way you won't like."
Understanding, by this somewhat equivocal form of expression, thatflagellation was threatened, Taddy obeyed, still feeli
ng his smartingand burning ear.
Ducklow was in trouble. What should he do with the bonds? The floor wasno place for them after what had happened; and he remembered too wellthe experience of yesterday to think for a moment of carrying them abouthis person. With unreasonable impatience, his mind reverted to Mrs.Ducklow.
"Why ain't she to home? These women are forever a-gaddin'! I wishReuben's trunk was in Jericho!"
Thinking of the trunk reminded him of one in the garret, filled with oldpapers of all sorts,--newspapers, letters, bills of sale, children'swriting-books,--accumulations of the past quarter of a century. Neitherfire nor burglar nor ransacking youngster had ever molested thoseancient records during all those five-and-twenty years. A bright thoughtstruck him.
"I'll slip the bonds down into that worthless heap o' rubbish, where noone 'ull ever think o' lookin' for 'em, and resk 'em."
Having assured himself that Taddy was standing by the wagon, he paid ahasty visit to the trunk in the garret, and concealed the envelope,still bound in its band of tape, among the papers. He then drove away,giving Taddy a final charge to beware of setting anything afire.
He had driven about half a mile, when he met a peddler. There wasnothing unusual or alarming in such a circumstance, surely; but, asDucklow kept on, it troubled him.
"He'll stop to the house, now, most likely, and want to trade. Findin'nobody but Taddy, there's no knowin' what he'll be tempted to do. But Iain't a-goin' to worry. I'll defy anybody to find them bonds. Besides,she may be home by this time. I guess she'll hear of the fire-alarm andhurry home: it'll be jest like her. She'll be there, and trade with thepeddler!" thought Ducklow, uneasily. Then a frightful fancy possessedhim. "She has threatened two or three times to sell that old trunkful ofpapers. He'll offer a big price for 'em, and ten to one she'll let himhave 'em. Why _didn't_ I think on't? What a stupid blunderbuss I be!"
As Ducklow thought of it, he felt almost certain that Mrs. Ducklow hadreturned home, and that she was bargaining with the peddler at thatmoment. He fancied her smilingly receiving bright tin-ware for the oldpapers; and he could see the tape-tied envelope going into the bag withthe rest. The result was that he turned about and whipped his old marehome again in terrific haste, to catch the departing peddler.
Arriving, he found the house as he had left it, and Taddy occupied inmaking a kite-frame.
"Did that peddler stop here?"
"I hain't seen no peddler."
"And hain't yer Ma Ducklow been home, nuther?"
"No."
And, with a guilty look, Taddy put the kite-frame behind him.
Ducklow considered. The peddler had turned up a cross-street: he wouldprobably turn down again and stop at the house, after all: Mrs. Ducklowmight by that time be at home: then the sale of old papers would bevery likely to take place. Ducklow thought of leaving word that he didnot wish any old papers in the house to be sold, but feared lest therequest might excite Taddy's suspicions.
"I don't see no way but for me to take the bonds with me," thought he,with an inward groan.
He accordingly went to the garret, took the envelope out of the trunk,and placed it in the breast-pocket of his overcoat, to which he pinnedit, to prevent it by any chance from getting out. He used six large,strong pins for the purpose, and was afterwards sorry he did not useseven.
"There's suthin' losin' out o' yer pocket!" bawled Taddy, as he was oncemore mounting the wagon.
Quick as lightning, Ducklow clapped his hand to his breast. In doing sohe loosed his hold of the wagon-box and fell, raking his shin badly onthe wheel.
"Yer side-pocket! It's one o' yer mittens!" said Taddy.
"You rascal! How you scared me!"
Seating himself in the wagon, Ducklow gently pulled up his trousers-legto look at the bruised part.
"Got anything in your boot-leg to-day, Pa Ducklow?" asked Taddy,innocently.
"Yes,--a barked shin!--all on your account, too! Go and put that strawback, and fix the carpet; and don't ye let me hear ye speak of myboot-leg again, or I'll boot-leg ye!"
So saying, Ducklow departed.
Instead of repairing the mischief he had done in the sitting-room, Taddydevoted his time and talents to the more interesting occupation ofconstructing his kite-frame. He worked at that until Mr. Grantly, theminister, driving by, stopped to inquire how the folks were.
"Ain't to home: may I ride?" cried Taddy, all in a breath.
Mr. Grantly was an indulgent old gentleman, fond of children: so hesaid, "Jump in;" and in a minute Taddy had scrambled to a seat by hisside.
And now occurred a circumstance which Ducklow had foreseen. The alarm offire had reached Reuben's; and, although the report of its falsenessfollowed immediately, Mrs. Ducklow's inflammable fancy was so kindled byit that she could find no comfort in prolonging her visit.
"Mr. Ducklow'll be going for the trunk, and I _must_ go home and see tothings, Taddy's _such_ a fellow for mischief. I can foot it; I shan'tmind it."
And off she started, walking herself out of breath in anxiety.
She reached the brow of the hill just in time to see a chaise drive awayfrom her own door.
"Who _can_ that be? I wonder if Taddy's ther' to guard the house! Ifanything should happen to them bonds!"
Out of breath as she was, she quickened her pace, and trudged on,flushed, perspiring, panting, until she reached the house.
"Thaddeus!" she called.
No Taddy answered. She went in. The house was deserted. And, lo! thecarpet torn up, and the bonds abstracted!
Mr. Ducklow never would have made such work, removing the bonds. Thensomebody else must have taken them, she reasoned.
"The man in the chaise!" she exclaimed, or rather made an effort toexclaim, succeeding only in bringing forth a hoarse, gasping sound. Feardried up articulation. _Vox faucibus haesit._
And Taddy? He had disappeared, been murdered, perhaps,--or gagged andcarried away by the man in the chaise.
Mrs. Ducklow flew hither and thither (to use a favorite phrase of herown), "like a hen with her head cut off;" then rushed out of the houseand up the street, screaming after the chaise,--
"Murder! murder! Stop thief! stop thief!"
She waved her hands aloft in the air frantically. If she had trudgedbefore, now she trotted, now she cantered; but, if the cantering of theold mare was fitly likened to that of a cow, to what thing, to whatmanner of motion under the sun, shall we liken the cantering of Mrs.Ducklow? It was original; it was unique; it was prodigious. Now, withher frantically waving hands, and all her undulating and flappingskirts, she seemed a species of huge, unwieldy bird, attempting to fly.Then she sank down into a heavy, dragging walk,--breath and strength allgone,--no voice left even to scream "murder!" Then, the awfulrealization of the loss of the bonds once more rushing over her, shestarted up again. "Half running, half flying, what progress she made!"Then Atkins's dog saw her, and, naturally mistaking her for a prodigy,came out at her, bristling up and bounding and barking terrifically.
"Come here!" cried Atkins, following the dog. "What's the matter? What'sto pay, Mrs. Ducklow?"
Attempting to speak, the good woman could only pant and wheeze.
"Robbed!" she at last managed to whisper, amid the yelpings of the curthat refused to be silenced.
"Robbed? How? Who?"
"The chaise. Ketch it."
Her gestures expressed more than her words; and, Atkins's horse andwagon, with which he had been drawing out brush, being in the yardnear-by, he ran to them, leaped to the seat, drove into the road, tookMrs. Ducklow aboard, and set out in vigorous pursuit of the slowtwo-wheeled vehicle.
"Stop, you, sir! Stop, you, sir!" shrieked Mrs. Ducklow, havingrecovered her breath by the time they came up with the chaise.
It stopped, and Mr. Grantly, the minister, put out his good-natured,surprised face.
"You've robbed my house! You've took--"
Mrs. Ducklow was going on in wild, accusatory accents, when sherecognized the benign countenance.
"No, no! not you! You wouldn't do such a thing!" she stammered forth,while Atkins, who had laughed himself weak at Mr. Ducklow's plightearlier in the morning, now laughed himself into a side-ache at Mrs.Ducklow's ludicrous mistake. "But did you--did you stop at my house?Have you seen our Thaddeus?"
"Here I be, Ma Ducklow!" piped a small voice; and Taddy, who had tillthen remained hidden, fearing punishment, peeped out of the chaise frombehind the broad back of the minister.
"Taddy! Taddy! how came the carpet--"
"I pulled it up, huntin' for a marble," said Taddy, as she paused,overmastered by her emotions.
"And the--the thing tied up in a brown wrapper?"
"Pa Ducklow took it."
"Ye sure?"
"Yes; I seen him."
"Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Ducklow, "I never was so beat! Mr. Grantly, Ihope--excuse me--I didn't know what I was about! Taddy, you notty boy,what did you leave the house for? Be ye quite sure yer Pa Ducklow--"
Taddy replied that he was quite sure, as he climbed from the chaise intoAtkins's wagon. The minister smilingly remarked that he hoped she wouldfind no robbery had been committed, and went his way. Atkins, drivingback, and setting her and Taddy down at the Ducklow gate, answered herembarrassed "Much obleeged to ye," with a sincere "Not at all,"considering the fun he had had a sufficient compensation for histrouble. And thus ended the morning adventures, with the exception of anunimportant episode, in which Taddy, Mrs. Ducklow, and Mrs. Ducklow'srattan were the principal actors.
The Wit and Humor of America, Volume IV. (of X.) Page 18