JIMMY'S ERRAND
"WELL, I declare if Abe isn't the most forgetful boy I ever saw!"exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, as she emptied the contents of a largemarket-basket upon the kitchen table. "This makes the second time he'sbeen to town and back this week, and he's forgotten that soda bothtimes. Jimmy!" she called out to a freckle-faced boy who was making theold dog walk around the kitchen floor on its hind feet, "climb up to thetop pantry shelf and see if there's any spice left in those tin boxes."
"What are you going to make, ma?" languidly inquired a pale girl who satby the stove shaking with a chill.
"Why, I intended to make a cake for the new preacher's donation-party,"answered Mrs. Perkins. "That's what the committee askedfor--marble-cake and biscuits. Did you find anything, Jimmy?"
"No'm. They're all empty." The boy jumped down and went back to thepatient old dog, which he now converted into a wheelbarrow and trundledaround on its clumsy fore paws.
"What shall I do!" exclaimed Mrs. Perkins, in despair. "There's not aspeck of spice or soda in the house."
This was before the days of baking-powder, and it was eight miles to thenearest town.
"I'll tell you," answered Maria, with her teeth chattering. "Let Abesaddle old Blaze and go up to Doctor Spinner's. He always keeps suchthings on hand, and we can send for some more quinine at the same time."
"And be about as likely to get soap and knitting-needles as anythingelse!" replied her mother, with a frown. "It's a pity a boy as old asAbe is can't be trusted to remember anything!"
"Let Jimmy go," suggested Maria. "It's only three miles, and he caneasily get back by dinner-time."
"Yes," said Mrs. Perkins, "I don't know of any reason why he shouldn'tbe trusted with the horse, and he can be depended on to do the errand asight better than Abe."
Jimmy's freckled face beamed with delight. He had expected to spend themorning hoeing in the garden. He had been waiting the last half-hour forhis father to call him and set him at work; but it was not the prospectof escaping a disagreeable task or of cantering along the road on theold blaze-faced horse that pleased him most. It was the fact that hismother and Maria regarded him as more trustworthy than Abe, and Abe wasnearly grown.
He had never before so completely appreciated his true worth nor feltsuch a sense of his own importance as when his mother entrusted him withthe errand, and gave him a message for the doctor's wife. Maria's wordsof praise were still in his ears when he ran down the path, hitching upa broken suspender as he went.
"What are you up to now?" inquired Abe, as Jimmy walked into the barn ina lordly way and took down the saddle.
"Up to takin' a ride," answered Jimmy, in a way that nettled his olderbrother.
"Not on that saddle, you ain't!" retorted Abe. "I'm goin' to mill."
"Then you'll have to ride bareback," was the cool reply. "I'm goin' onan errand for mother, and, what's more, I'm goin' to have the saddle.Can't I, pa?" he asked, as his father came in.
"No, Jimmy," answered his father, when both boys had stated the case."Abe is bigger, and he's got the farthest to go."
Abe laughed provokingly. "I don't care!" muttered Jimmy. "_You_ couldn'tbe trusted to do the errand. Mother said so. So you needn't laugh."
Abe's face flushed. He knew his failing, and did not like to be remindedof it.
"You can take Maria's side-saddle!" called Mr. Perkins, as he went onout to the corn-crib.
"Better not," remarked Abe. "It's brand-new, and she'd feel awful bad ifanything should happen to it. It might get spoiled."
Jimmy did not want to take it, and had not intended to do so, but thespirit of contrariness seemed to have possession of him. That remarksettled the matter. "You might spoil it," he said, "but I guessMaria'll trust me to bring it home safe, if I am ever so much smallerthan you!"
Presently, seated astride the new side-saddle, Jimmy rode up to thekitchen door.
"You don't care if I take it, do you?" he called to Maria. She wrappedherself more closely in the heavy shawl, and came out into the warmsunshine, her teeth still chattering.
"No, I guess not," she said, putting out her shaking hand to feel thesoft plush of the cushioned seat. "Isn't that a pretty shade of red?It's the handsomest one in the township. Oh, don't forget, Jimmy; mothersaid to ask Doctor Spinner to put up another bottle of tonic like thathe gave me last spring."
"All right!" said Jimmy, impatient to be off.
Digging his heels in old Blaze's sides, he started down the road on agallop. This was too lively a gait for the old horse to sustain long,and she soon settled down to a steady walk.
For the first half-mile Jimmy sat very erect, with a growing sense ofhis own importance and superiority over his brother Abe. Then heyielded to the gracious influence of the sweet spring morning, and,throwing one foot over the pommel of the saddle, began to whistle inanswer to a redbird's call.
Presently he tired of riding sidewise, and by the time he reached thefield where the Fishback boys were dropping corn he was up on his knees.Inspired by spectators, he urged his horse to go faster and faster, andscrambling to his feet as he came up with them, passed them with acheer. They stopped their work long enough to look after him and wavetheir hats until he disappeared around a bend in the road.
"It's a mighty nice thing," he thought, complacently, "to be able toride around the country this way, when everybody else has to work."
By this time he had reached the bridge across Pigeon Creek. It wasshallow enough to ford at this place, and he concluded to try it.Clattering down the bank, he rode into the water with a splash. Overheadthe great branches of the sycamore-trees leaned across the stream andmet each other. It was cool and shady, and so still that the only soundhe could hear was the gurgling noise old Blaze made as she bent herhead to drink.
Suddenly a shrill whistle made him start so violently that he almostlost his balance, and clutched at the loosened bridle to save himselffrom falling. Looking in the direction of the whistle, he saw two bigbare feet dangling from a sycamore limb that hung half-way across thestream. Glancing up, he saw the owner of the feet. It was Coon Mills,the laziest, most "trifling" fellow in that part of the country--soeverybody said.
There was no need to ask him what he was doing, when the white blossomsof the dog-wood-trees had been proclaiming for a week, from every hilland hollow, that the fishing season had begun. His luck as a fishermanwas as proverbial as his laziness.
"What have you got?" called Jimmy. For answer Coon held up a string ofcatfish, so large that Jimmy gave a long whistle.
"I've jes' been a-pullin' 'em out as fast as I could throw in my line,"he said. "Thar hain't been nothin' like it sence ole Noah's time."
"My! You must be a-seein' fun," said Jimmy, watching him enviously ashe baited his hook and tossed it into the water. "Wouldn't I like to tryit, though!"
"Come on, if yer want ter," answered Coon. "Thar's another line in mybasket, and you kin cut a pole from the sprouts agin that stump downyender."
"I ought to be a-goin'. I've got an errand to do," answered Jimmy. "ButI would like to haul in just one."
"Oh, come on!" insisted Coon. "You can spare ten minutes, can't you?"
There was an attractiveness about this overgrown, good-natured fellowthat all the smaller boys found irresistible. Jimmy could have said "no"to any of his younger companions, but he was flattered by Coon's notice,and an invitation from him was a temptation beyond his strength toresist.
A few minutes later old Blaze was tied to a sapling. Another pair offeet dangled from the sycamore limb, another line dipped into the water,and unbroken silence reigned again along the shady river.
A quarter of an hour passed, but Jimmy, with his eyes intent on thebobbing cork, took no notice of the flight of time. Then a thrill wentthrough him as he felt a pull on his line, and in his excitement healmost fell off his perch into the water.
"It's the biggest fish of the season!" Coon declared, as he helped haulit in. "You're in luck, Jim; you'd better try it agin."
/> Old Blaze gnawed the bark off the sapling as far as she could reach, andthen stamped and whinnied in vain. Still Jimmy sat on the sycamore limb,confident of success after his first great triumph, and unable to tearhimself away without one more trophy.
Coon drew up his line at intervals, and each time Jimmy's determinationto catch one more increased. The minutes slipped by, but he did notnotice them, nor did he realize that the sun was nearly overhead.
Suddenly, the unmistakable notes of a dinner-horn echoed through thewoods. Startled into the consciousness that he had idled away the wholemorning, Jimmy started for the bank in such haste that his feet slippedon the smooth bark, and he fell across the limb. He scrambleddesperately around, and managed to draw himself up again, but in doingso lost his hold on the fish. He saw it go tumbling into the water.
A hearty laugh from Coon followed him down the bank and along the road,as he galloped furiously away.
Mrs. Spinner thought somebody must be dying or dead when she saw Jimmycome dashing up to the house in such haste, and hurried out to ask thenews.
"The doctor's just gone," she said, after he had told his errand, anddelivered his mother's message. "He had a call down to old Mr.Wakeley's, and left in the middle of his dinner. Law me, it's too bad!You'd better wait, though. He'll likely not be gone very long. Come inand have something to eat, won't you?"
Jimmy's inclination was to refuse, but his hunger overcame hisbashfulness, and he followed Mrs. Spinner into the kitchen.
She had already eaten her dinner, and kept on with her work, pausingoften, in her busy going back and forth, to give him some dish, orhospitably urge him to help himself.
"You'd better go into the office to wait," she said, as he pushed hischair back from the table. "The doctor'll surely be along pretty soon."
The little room, standing by itself in the front yard, did double dutyas office and drug-store. Jimmy sat down on the bench beside the door,and studied the odd assortment of bottles on the opposite shelves. Hecounted them and read all the labels. Then he saw a case of dentist'sinstruments lying on the table. He examined these curiously, fitting theforceps on each of his teeth, and then looked around for other sourcesof amusement.
Several books with leather bindings lay on the desk, and he sat down tolook at them. Books were few in the Perkins household, and the first onehe opened proved very entertaining. It was an illustrated work onanatomy, and he was soon completely absorbed in the interesting picturesof bones and muscles.
The afternoon was sultry and still. A few flies buzzed on thewindow-pane. Just outside the door an old hen clucked and scratched forher downy yellow brood. Jimmy could look out and see some one ploughingin a distant field, and hear a lusty voice at intervals, calling, "Gee!Haw! W'-o-a!" to the yoke of oxen.
After a long while, when sitting so still had made him drowsy, he wentto the door and looked up and down the road. No one was in sight. Eventhe sun had gone behind a cloud. He began to grow uneasy, as he thoughtof his mother waiting impatiently for the soda to begin her baking.
"If the doctor isn't here by the time I finish looking at the books," hesaid to himself, "I'll go anyway, without waiting for Maria's medicine."
He went back to his chair and turned to the pictures again. Presently hebegan to yawn. Then his eyelids drooped, and his head nodded so low thatit rested on the open book upon the table. He knew nothing more until hefelt Mrs. Spinner shaking him by the shoulder. He started up to find thelittle office nearly dark.
"I plumb forgot all about you," Mrs. Spinner said, "until the doctorsent word he couldn't come home to-night. Old Mr. Wakeley's a-dying.You'd better hurry away, for there's a heavy thunder-storm coming up."
She weighed out the soda and spices, wrapping each package separately,and then tied them together in one bundle. It was about the middle ofthe afternoon when Jimmy had gone to sleep. Now the sun had set. The skywas black with clouds, and as he hurriedly mounted his horse and tiedthe bundle to the horn of the saddle he heard a distant rumble ofthunder. Old Blaze was as anxious to get home as her rider, and neededlittle urging to make her travel her fastest.
They were going directly toward the storm. By the time they hadtravelled a mile and a half its full force was upon them. The wind blewfuriously and whirled the dust along the road in blinding columns. Ittwisted and tossed the tall trees as easily as if they had been bushes.Great limbs swayed wildly, and now and then one crashed to the ground.Once, when she was a colt, old Blaze had been hit by a falling branch ina thunder-storm, and had never forgotten the terror of it. Now, as avivid glare of lightning blinded her, she reared, plunged forward, andthen stood trembling, with dilated eyes and quivering nostrils.
They were in the midst of a thick wood. No amount of urging would inducethe mare to go on, and Jimmy got down to lead her. Something of thehorse's fear seemed to be communicated to the boy. He was naturallybrave, but the ferocious power of the storm awed him into utter fear.
The rain poured harder and harder. Jimmy was wet to the skin, and thewater ran down in streams from his hat brim. He pushed ahead for a longtime, wondering why he did not come to the creek. Instead of reachingopen country, he seemed to be getting deeper into the woods. Then heremembered that two bridle-paths led into the main road--one directlyinto it, the other around the base of the hill. He had taken the wrongpath and was travelling in a circle.
By the time he reached his starting-point again the storm had abated.The wind did not blow so hard, and the thunder had gone growling awaytoward the eastern hills. He led the horse up to a stump, climbed intothe saddle, and this time started on the right path homeward.
As he rode down the lane a lantern glimmered in the dooryard and movedtoward the barn. "Well, you _air_ a purty fellow!" called Abe's voice."Mother's mighty nigh wild about you. She jest now sent me down to gita horse to go out and hunt you."
Jimmy slid from the saddle without saying anything. When Abe saw howpale and wet he was, he added, in a kinder tone, "I'll put the horse up.You take your things and strike for the house."
He lifted the lantern in order to see to untie the package, and thengave an exclamation of astonishment.
"Well, I wisht you'd look! The rain has melted every bit of that soda.There's nothin' left but the bag. And the spice is all sp'iled, too. Mygracious!" he added, after another look, "it's run down all over thesaddle, and taken the colour out. My! Won't Maria be mad? It's eternallyruined! Well, I must say I like your way of doin' errands!"
It was a very penitent, humble boy who crept into the kitchen and gave ashamefaced account of the day's doings. Maria, who had sat with her facehidden in her apron during the storm, shuddering at the thought that hemight be out in it alone, ran to get him some dry clothes, without aword of reproach about the saddle.
"I'll save enough out of the garden truck to get it re-cushioned," hepromised. "Sure I will, Maria."
But Maria gave him a little squeeze. "Don't you worry about that,Jimmy," she said, "so long as you got home safe. It don't make so muchdifference about the soda, either, for we got word this afternoon thatthe donation-party has been put off."
His self-respect was restored by such a warm reception, and his spiritsrose until he began to think he was something of a hero, after all. Ashe ate the supper his mother had been keeping hot for him, she and Marialistened sympathetically to his account of the storm.
Abe, who had come in from the barn and was drying his boots by the fire,said nothing, but his quizzical smile was more provoking than words. Itreminded Jimmy of the boastful speech he had made that morning.
He grew red in the face, stopped talking, and soon made an excuse toslip away to bed. As he lay listening to the rain on the roof, he saidto himself, "I wisht I hadn't bragged so about doin' errands better thanAbe! He'll never be done a-hinting to me about soda andside-saddles!"
Aunt 'Liza's Hero, and Other Stories Page 6