Ticktock and Jim

by Carol Norton

  Chapter Ten Ticktock Disappears

  With the twenty-five dollars reward money added to his previous earnings,Jim now had over fifty dollars. Fifty dollars was more money than he hadever seen before and seemed like the largest sum in the world. It must beadequate, he felt, to cover the cost of Ticktock's feed for the winter.Mr. Meadows had not brought up the subject, and Jim was content to keepthe unannounced truce. His father seemed to be over his anger about thewatermelons. Jim reasoned that if the matter of Ticktock's board wasnever mentioned, he would be foolish to call attention to it. It wassimple arithmetic--he would be fifty dollars wealthier if he let sleepingdogs lie. If Mr. Meadows did raise the question, Jim was prepared. Ifnecessary, he figured he could even pay for Ticktock's keep elsewhere,although it would have broken his heart to have the mustang where hecould not be seen and ridden daily. Still, such a course would be betterthan having to give up the pony in the fall as his father had threatened.

  All over fifty dollars Jim felt he was free to spend. As he earned moneyfrom odd jobs, he began using it to stock his hideaway. He bought cans ofpork and beans, sausages, corned beef, vegetables, fruits, soups,condensed milk, and even one can of Boston brown bread. Anything thatcame in cans or packages that seemed safe from spoilage was carefullystowed away in the cave. He was frugal about the process, preferring totake quietly those items that were in plentiful supply at home ratherthan spend his hard-earned money.

  For quite a while now, Jim had been allowed to take food from the pantryfor his picnics and all-day trips without asking for specific permission,provided there was plenty on hand of what he needed. In case of doubt, itwas understood that he ask his mother. It was the same with anything thathis mother had piled on the left-hand side of the attic. Both he and Jeancould take anything they wished from the accumulation there.

  Now, therefore, to the supplies which he bought with his own money, headded from the family cupboard sugar, coffee, tea, salt, pepper and asmall quantity of flour. These he put carefully in jars that he pickedup. In the same manner he slowly accumulated a set of battered pots andpans, two plates, and a few odd knives and forks, as well as an oldblanket and a torn quilt from the attic.

  The only difference between what he did this time and what he had donebefore was that he didn't say a word to his mother about it all. Sincealways before he had talked over his plans with her, he now had a guiltyfeeling.

  "I'll keep a list of everything," he said to himself, "and show it toMother later on."

  It was so much more exciting to act mysteriously and in secret. It madethe cave a real hide-out, something that belonged to him alone.

  The quilt and blanket were the last items he needed to complete hispreparations. Since he couldn't very well ride out of the yard with themwithout causing questions, he slipped out one evening and hid them arespectable distance down the road. The next morning when he had finishedhis work, he saddled Ticktock and rode off to recover them. As he stoppedto pick up his bedding, he was congratulating himself on how secretly hehad managed everything. He looked under the little bush where he had leftthem the previous evening but the quilt and blanket were gone. With apuzzled frown on his tanned face, he tried to figure out the mystery.There was little traffic on the road past the farm and no reason whyanyone would be prompted to stop at this spot and discover his bedding.Very annoyed, he looked up and down the road to see if there was anyother bush he could possibly have confused with this one.

  "Looking for your blankets?" asked a teasing voice.

  Jim looked up, and there was his sister Jean sitting on the opposite sideof the road. She held his missing loot in her arms.

  "What are you doing here?" Jim demanded, very crestfallen at beingcaught.

  "What are you doing with these?" asked Jean promptly.

  "Oh, I was just going to use them somewhere!" said Jim in confusion. Hetried to think fast. "I thought I might go fishing and want a soft placeto lean back on while I fished."

  "Funny you'd go to all this trouble just to take some blankets with youfishing," observed Jean with mockery in her voice. "You forgot your fishpole too."

  "Well, it's none of your business," replied Jim lamely.

  "Yes, it is," said Jean. "You were taking them to the hideaway and thehideaway is part mine."

  "Don't be silly. Whatever gave you the idea I was taking them there?"

  "Oh, I've been watching things," said Jean calmly. "Let's see, you've gotsugar, coffee, plates, cups and two jars of peaches. Of course, I don'tknow what you might have bought in town. Where else would you take allthat stuff except to the cave?"

  "Well, all right, the stuff was for the cave. Now what good does it doyou to know?"

  "None, unless I know where the cave is. But you're going to show me now."

  "Like fun I am."

  "Either you spill the beans or I'll squeal." Jean had read enough comicstrips that she could talk like a thug, and this was an occasion when shefelt she had to act tough.

  "You promised not to tell when I took you to the hideaway," objected Jim.

  "Yes, but I didn't promise not to tell about all this stuff you've beenstealing."

  "It isn't really stealing," protested Jim.

  "It looks like stealing to me," said Jean with infuriating calmness. "Youtook a bunch of junk but you didn't ask."

  Jim felt trapped. He still didn't consider his recent activitiesthievery, but that wasn't the important part. If Jean talked, his parentswould ask embarrassing questions about what he had done with thearticles. They would know he had a secret headquarters, which spoiledhalf the mystery. It was better that Jean knew, than everyone. Thus farshe had kept very quiet about what she already knew.

  "Tell you what I'll do. I'll take you there on your birthday," he offeredfinally.

  Jean considered thoughtfully. "That's three weeks away."

  "Yes, but I'm awful busy now. Besides, wouldn't it be a nice birthdaypresent--making you a full partner in the hideaway. I've got a lot ofthings there I bought at the grocery store and you can have half ofthem." Jim hoped she would forget about the matter in three weeks. Hedidn't expect it, but it was a possibility.

  "All right, on my birthday."

  "O.K. Give me the blankets and remember, don't tell anyone."

  "Oh, I won't, now that everything is going to be half mine!" said Jeanwith decision. "What are you going to do with all the stuff anyway?"

  That question rather stumped Jim. He hadn't gone into the reason behindall his activity in stocking the cave. He had long ago forgotten his ideaof going there to live the life of a hermit. In the thrill of secretlygathering a hoard of food and utensils he hadn't given much thought as tothe purpose of it all.

  "Well, I hadn't thought about that too much," he admitted frankly. "It'sjust fun to have the stuff in the cave. I can pretend I'm an outlawhiding out. Maybe Mother will let me camp out all night sometime."

  "Well, we could pretend we were shipwrecked on an island or that we werein a war and surrounded by enemies, and lots of things," suggested Jean.

  "Good ideas," said Jim. "Well, I better be going. I'll take you there onyour birthday." He rode off feeling that Jean might not be such a badpartner to share his hide-out. She was resourceful and she hadimagination. Also, there was still three weeks in which he could enjoythe secret in solitary splendor.

  Jean watched her brother disappear down the road. She had earned avictory, but three weeks was a long time. She walked back to the housewith a very thoughtful look on her determined young face. She had beendoing much thinking and observing, and she wasn't going to stop and waitcalmly for her birthday.

  Jim delivered his blankets to the cave. After gloating over his veryrespectable pile of provisions, he made himself a pot of coffee. It was alot of trouble, and he didn't care too much for coffee, particularly witha lot of grounds, as his somehow always managed to have. Still it wasfun. He washed the pot in the stream, scouring it carefully with sandbefore replacing
it in the cave.

  On his way back home he made a detour to go by the railroad tracks. Itwas about time for the morning freight to pass by, and he enjoyedwatching the long train labor slowly up a hill which was about a milefrom the farm. Arriving at a good point of vantage near a stream at thefoot of the hill, he dismounted to sit by the roadside. Ticktock grazedcontentedly while Jim chewed on a long stem of grass.

  In a few minutes the train came whistling around the bend at full speed,trying for a head start up the hill. Jim counted the cars as theyappeared, his largest total was fifty-seven and he had hoped this freightwould break the record, for the engine slowed and began laboring themoment it hit the upgrade. As the sixteenth car appeared around thecurve, he forgot about counting. A figure was running along the top ofthe boxcars toward the engine, looking frantically over his shoulderevery few minutes. About ten cars later Jim saw the cause of theexcitement. A second man was pursuing the first, but the latter did notseem particularly worried.

  "Railroad cop," thought Jim. "He's trying to catch that hobo."

  The first man apparently realized that he didn't have too far to runbefore he reached the engine. He stopped in his flight and beganclambering down the side of one of the freight cars. The train had slowedconsiderably now that it was part way up the hill. The man looked down atthe ground and then up at the car tops where his pursuer was hidden fromview. Then he jumped. The leap occurred almost at the point where thetracks crossed the trestle over the stream. Jim could not tell if the manlanded on the ground or in the water. In either case, he must be badlyshaken up, for although the train had lost much of its speed it was stilltraveling at a respectable rate.

  It was several hundred yards to the trestle, so, deciding that it wouldbe quicker to ride than to walk, Jim dashed for his horse. Unfortunately,Ticktock had strayed up the road looking for choice bunches of clover. Bythe time Jim had run to his horse, mounted, and then ridden over to thetrestle, several minutes had elapsed. Pulling Ticktock to a dust-raisingstop that would have done credit to a Western movie, Jim slid to theground. There was no mangled corpse in sight. He rushed to the edge ofthe bank bordering the stream and peered down. Still there was nothing tobe seen. As there were a number of bushes, weeds and stunted trees on thesteep banks, whoever had jumped might be lying unconscious behind someclump. There was nothing to do but make a search.

  Searching near the track]

  Jim climbed up and down the sloping sides of the stream covering the areawhere anyone might possibly have fallen. When his efforts turned out tobe fruitless, he decided there could be only one other solution. If theman had landed in the stream, there was sufficient water to carry himalong to the shallows on the other side of the bridge. Although the waterwas only a few feet deep, an injured or unconscious man could drown.Working his way downstream under the bridge, Jim reached the shallowsabout a hundred yards on the other side of the tracks without finding anybody. Puzzled, he decided to give up the search. Perhaps he had justimagined someone had jumped. As he was slowly making his way back, heheard the sound of rapid hoofbeats. Panic-stricken, he rushed as fast ashe could along the slanting banks. He clambered to the top and lookedaround for Ticktock. The mustang was gone.

  He looked up the road and there disappearing in the distance was hisbeloved horse. Hunched over the pony's back, urging him to greater speed,was the figure of a man.

  "Come back, you dirty horse thief!" screamed Jim at the top of his lungs,with rage and panic in his voice.

  He continued to shout uselessly as the figure of the horse and rider grewsmaller in the distance. Finally a curve in the road hid them from view.Heartbroken, Jim sat down by the side of the road. He buried his face inhis hands and his body shook with sobs. It was a disaster much worse thanany he could possibly have imagined. His beloved mustang had been stolen.He sat by the roadside for a long time before he looked up. The cheerysunshine of a few minutes earlier had suddenly become hard and bitter.The bright world had turned ugly, drab and cruel.

  Finally he got to his feet and started plodding dejectedly down the road.It was a long desolate walk. Each step seemed to take him farther fromTicktock. His parents saw him when he finally came forlornly up the lane.With his slow pace and sorrowful face, he was a heartbreaking sight.

  "What's the matter, Jimmy?" asked his mother, running to meet him.

  "Someone stole Ticktock," he said with a quavering voice.

  "Stole Ticktock?" asked Mr. Meadows incredulously. "How did it happen?"

  "I saw a man jump off a freight," said Jim slowly. "I thought maybe hewas hurt. While I was hunting for him, he stole Ticktock. He must havebeen hiding behind some bush."

  "Why the dirty rat," said Mr. Meadows, his rage mounting as he listenedto the details. While he had threatened to get rid of the horse a fewmonths earlier, now the idea that anyone would steal his son's mustangmade him furious. "I'm going in to call the sheriff. That horse is sowell known the thief won't be able to get far. We'll get Ticktock back,Jim."

  Two days went by, and they didn't get Ticktock back.

  The sheriff passed the alarm to surrounding towns, while the Springdale_Gazette_ carried big headlines warning everyone to be on the lookout. Itforgot its usual joking tone about Jim and his horse and seriously askedeveryone to cooperate in the search. Bill Arnold even had a front-pageeditorial on the subject.

  Jim sat at the telephone waiting for news, but there was no joyousmessage. He was grief-stricken and refused to be consoled.

  "Don't feel so bad," said Mrs. Meadows comfortingly. "You have moneyenough to buy another horse."

  "I don't want another horse. I want Ticktock," said Jim.

  While he was deep in misery, Jim did not lose hope. Somehow he felt thatTicktock would escape from the thief and return. He was confident that nomatter how far the mustang might be ridden he would discover the way backhome. The third day following the theft was Saturday. The family tried topersuade Jim to go to town to take his mind off his loss, but he was firmin insisting on staying home. A message was sent to Colonel Flesher thathe would not be in for work for the sale. Ticktock might possibly return,Jim felt, and he wanted to be home to greet him.

  Jim sat sadly on the front porch after the family left for town, lookingup and down the road hoping to see the mustang. Three days was a longtime. A man could ride a horse a great distance in that length of time.Still Jim kept gazing at the road hopefully. Suddenly he jumped up andrubbed his eyes. He had been searching so long that he thought he was nowdreaming. He looked again and still saw the same wonderful sight.Ticktock was jogging contentedly down the road toward home.

  Jim ran to the gate to meet his horse. He threw his arms around thepony's neck and hugged him through sheer joy.

  "You came back, boy, you came back!" he cried happily.

  Ticktock closed one eye and winked. He wasn't a demonstrative horse.

  As Jim started to lead his prodigal pony into the yard, he noticed forthe first time that Ticktock wore no bridle.

  "So you had to slip your bridle to get away," he said. "Well, you did agood job. We'll get another old bridle. I'll bet you're tired and hungry.You must have come a long way; so I'll take the saddle off and let yourest."

  When the saddle was removed, there was very little perspiration beneaththe blanket. The hair was scarcely ruffled. Jim stood back and looked atTicktock in puzzlement.

  "You don't look as if you had come so far," he observed. "In fact, youlook as if you had just been groomed."

  He opened one of the saddlebags. He usually carried a curry comb andbrush with him so that he could use them in odd moments. The implementswere still there, but it was hard to tell if they had been used. Whateverthe thief had used, Ticktock had obviously been groomed only a short timebefore. The pony didn't look tired either, but acted quite fresh andfrisky.

  Noticing that the other saddlebag bulged suspiciously, Jim opened it.There, folded neatly, was the missing bridle.

  "Now why would anyone fold up a bridle and
put it in the saddlebag?"asked Jim.

  Ticktock didn't answer but just nuzzled his master contentedly.

  "If someone wasn't going to ride you for a while," said Jim musingly tohis pony, "he would take off your saddle as well as your bridle. If hewas going to ride you in a few minutes, he either wouldn't take off thebridle at all or at most hang it on a tree limb or the saddle horn. Butthat bridle was carefully put away in the saddlebag. There's somethingfishy here. I don't believe that thief is so far from here."

  The more Jim thought about the matter, the more puzzled he became. But nomatter what the solution, he was very angry with whoever had stolen hishorse. According to all the books he had read and movies he had seen, ahorse thief was considered three degrees lower than a murderer. Jimagreed with the Western idea. Turning over such thoughts in his mind, hefinally came to a decision. He saddled Ticktock, put on the bridle andthen went into the house. He opened the closet to his father's room andcarefully got out a twenty-two rifle. He had been forbidden to touch hisfather's firearms, but he felt this case was different. There was a heavydeer gun in the closet too, but that looked too forbidding. He found fivetwenty-two long shells in his father's bureau, which he carefully stuckin his pocket. It was a single shot rifle, and he knew how to load it.

  Going back downstairs, he found a pencil and paper and wrote a short notethat he left lying on the kitchen table.

  _Dear Dad and Mom:_

  _Ticktock came back and is all right. I have gone to look for that low-down horse thief. If I catch him alive, I hope they hang him._

  _Jim_

  Very grim-faced, Jim mounted and rode off in the direction from whichTicktock had come. He had no idea where he was going to hunt for thethief, but to hunt anywhere was a form of action. He jogged along, sooverjoyed to be back on his horse once more that he paid little attentionto where the pony was heading. Suddenly he realized that he was enteringBriggs Wood. At the proper point Ticktock turned off the road toward thehideaway.

  "Well, we might as well go there as anywhere else," said Jim cheerfully.He really didn't have much hope of locating the thief anyhow.

  At the clearing, Jim dismounted to stretch his legs. He sat downcontentedly on a big rock by his fireplace.

  "Well, here we are, back together again at the old hangout, Ticktock," heobserved happily to the pony.

  He tossed a rock into the ashes of the fireplace. Nothing could keep himand his mustang down. Then he noticed that the disturbed ashes weresmoking slightly. Alarmed, he poked in the fireplace with a stick. Therewas no doubt that a fire had been built there recently. Clutching hisgun, he looked around at the trees.

  "Someone has been here in our hide-out," he confided softly to Ticktock.

  The pony was not grazing as usual but looking around inquiringly.Frowning fiercely, Jim tried to feel as brave as he looked. Cautiously hepeered inside the brush hut. It was empty; so he began to make a slowcircuit of the clearing, staying well back in the trees. He wasapproaching the lower end near the stream, trying to move silently overthe rocky ground when he stumbled over something projecting from a lowbush. He spun around with his rifle ready, completely forgetting that hehad never loaded the gun. There was a stir in the bush and then a man'sface peered out. Two sleep-clouded eyes looked at Jim and his rifle. Theeyes opened wide and lost their sleepiness.

  "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I give up," said a frightened voice.