“We’ll keep that in mind, Aleck,” answered Dick. “But you can be with us this summer—at least part of the time.”
“I’se glad ob dat, Massa Dick. I’se jess been a-pinin’ an’ a-pinin’ fo’ you boys!”
The boys slept soundly, and did not get up until late. They spent the best part of the day in roaming around the farm, and in writing letters to the girls, telling of their safe arrival home.
“I’ll tell you what I’d like to do,” said Tom, that afternoon. “I’d like to invite the Lanings and the Stanhopes down here to spend the Fourth of July. We might have a sort of house party.”
“Great!” shouted Sam. “Just the thing—if they’ll come.”
“Let us sound dad and Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha on the subject,” added Dick.
The matter was talked over, and the boys readily secured permission to have their friends at the farm for the best part of a week. The invitations were issued immediately, for the national holiday was but ten days off.
“I know what I’d like to do, after they are gone,” said Dick. “I’d like to take our tent and go camping up the river for a week or two, just for the novelty of it. We could fish and swim, and take it easy, and have lots of sport.”
“Suits me down to the ground,” answered Tom. “We’ll do it—unless something better turns up.”
“I was going to suggest an automobile tour,” said Sam. “Uncle Randolph has the new car and it is certainly a dandy.”
“Well, maybe we can take the tour, too,” answered Dick. “The summer vacation will be pretty long.”
“We could run up to Cedarville,” said Tom.
“Sure—right to the Lanings’ home,” added Dick, giving Tom a poke in the ribs.
“Oh, sure—and over to the Stanhopes’ place, too.”
Having sent their letters the boys waited anxiously for replies. On Saturday the answers came, and they read the communications with deep interest.
“Hurrah! Nellie and Grace are coming, with their mother!” cried Tom.
“And Dora is coming with them,” said Dick.
“What about Mrs. Stanhope?” asked Sam.
“She said she might come, but she wasn’t sure.”
A letter had been written by Mrs. Rover to Mrs. Laning and there was a reply to this, both from Mrs. Laning and Mrs. Stanhope.
“We’ll have a great celebration!” cried Tom.
“How about those fireworks?” asked Dick.
“I expect them today.”
“Have you got enough?” asked Sam.
“As many as we had at Brill.”
“That will be plenty.”
“I ordered some powder, too, for use in the old cannon,” went on Tom. “We’ll wake up the natives this Fourth all right!”
“You look out that you don’t blow yourself up,” warned Dick, for he knew his fun-loving brother could get rather reckless at times.
“Oh, I’ll be on guard,” was Tom’s answer.
When Tom went to Oak Run to get the fireworks old Ricks was decidedly grouchy.
“I’ve got a good mind not to let you have ’em,” growled the station master. “You didn’t have no right to play that trick on me with that cigar.”
“What trick?” demanded Tom, innocently.
“Oh, you know well enough, you scamp! Think it’s smart to put off a cigar on me thet swells up and busts out worms! Bah! you keep your cigars to yourself after this.”
“All right, if you want me to,” answered Tom, meekly, and then, watching his chance, he placed another of the “doctored” cigars in Ricks’ office, where he had a cigar box with tickets in it. Then he, with Jack Ness’ aid, loaded his fireworks and the small box of powder on the farm wagon.
As Tom worked he watched Ricks narrowly and saw the station agent enter his office to sell tickets. While he was making change he chanced to look into the cigar box with the tickets, and Tom, peeping through a crack of the door, saw him take up the cigar and look at it wonderingly.
“Hum!” murmured Ricks. “I thought that box was empty. Sallers must have left this in it when he gave it to me. That’s one on Bob. Guess I’ll smoke it up before he comes an’ asks me about it.” The man he mentioned was a storekeeper of the vicinity, who had given him the cigar box the evening before.
Ricks struck a match and commenced to puff away with satisfaction. By this time the wagon was loaded and Tom directed Jack Ness to drive off to the bridge and wait for him.
“Well, good-bye, Mr. Ricks,” said the fun-loving youth, as he stepped up to the ticket window. “Hope you don’t hold any hard feelings.”
“You quit your foolin’!” growled the station master.
“I see you’re smoking another cigar.”
“What if I am? Ain’t I got a right to smoke if I want to?”
“Not if you see things when you do it.”
“See things? Wot do you mean, Tom Rover?”
“They tell me that you imagined you saw snakes the other day when you were smoking.”
“You go on about your business! You played me a trick, that’s what you did!”
“It’s queer how cigars affect some people. They get nervous and think the end of the cigar is crawling,” went on Tom, earnestly. “Now, if I was affected that way I wouldn’t smoke.”
“Say, Tom Rover, I want you to understand—”
What the station agent wanted Tom to know was never divulged, for at that instant the cigar commenced to swell at the lit end and then an ashy-colored “worm” commenced slowly to uncurl, reaching a length of a foot or more. Ricks took the cigar in his hand, held it at arm’s length and viewed it with horror.
“It’s another one of ’em!” he groaned.
“What’s the matter, Mr. Ricks?” asked Tom, calmly.
“This cigar! Did—did you play this trick on me?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Look at the end o’ this cigar.”
“I don’t see anything wrong. It looks like a fine cigar, and it seems to burn well,” answered Tom, as soberly as a judge.
“Don’t you see the—the worms?”
“Worms! Mr. Ricks you are dreaming!”
“Ain’t that a—er—a worm?” shouted the station master, pointing with his finger at the thing dangling at the end of the cigar.
“Mr. Ricks, you must have ’em again,” answered Tom, and looked deeply shocked. “You had better go and see a doctor. This cigar smoking has got on your nerves.”
“It ain’t so! I see the worms! There they are!” And the station master poked his finger into the mass.
Now, as those who are acquainted with the fireworks known as Serpent’s Eggs, or Pharaoh’s Serpents, know, the “worms” or “serpents” are very fragile and go to dust at the slightest touch. Consequently when Ricks placed his finger rudely on those at the end of the cigar they were knocked off, and falling to the floor, were completely shattered to dust. At this the station master started in amazement.
“Where are the worms?” asked Tom. “I don’t see them?”
“Why—I—er—that is—they were here!” stammered Ricks.
“Where?”
“On the end o’ the cigar.”
“Then where are they now?” demanded Tom. “Give me one, till I examine it.”
“Why they—they are—er—gone now.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. Say, I don’t know about this!” And the old station master commenced to scratch his head. He looked at the cigar wonderingly. But no more “worms” were forthcoming, for the reason that the pellets Tom had placed within had burnt themselves out.
“You certainly ought to see a doctor—or else give up smoking cigars,” said Tom, as soberly as ever.
“Tom Rover, ain’t this no trick o’ yours?”
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“Trick? Do you think I am a wizard? I find you smoking a cigar and you go and see worms, or snakes, just as if you had been drinking. Maybe you do drink.”
“I don’t. I ain’t teched a drop in six months.”
“Well, you had better do something for yourself,” said Tom, as he backed away from the ticket window.
“I don’t understand this, nohow!” muttered the old station master. “But I ain’t goin’ to smoke thet cigar no more!” he added, and threw the weed out on the railroad tracks.
When Tom got to the wagon he was shaking with laughter. The joke was too good to keep, and as they drove along he told Jack Ness about what had occurred.
“It’s one on Ricks,” said the hired man, with a broad grin. “He’s kind o’ a superstitious man an’ he’ll imagine all sorts o’ things!”
“Well, if it cures him of smoking it will be a good job done,” answered Tom. “I’ve seen him with a pipe in his mouth when a lady wanted a railroad ticket, and he would blow the smoke right into her face.”
It made Randolph Rover somewhat nervous to have so many fireworks and so much powder around the premises—and there was a good reason for this, for the facilities for fighting fire at Valley Brook were very meager. So, to please his uncle, Tom stored the stuff in a small building at the bottom of one of the fields, where some farming implements and berry crates and boxes were kept.
The cannon Tom had mentioned was a rather old affair. But it seemed to be in good condition and the boys spent some time in cleaning it out and putting it in condition for use. It was mounted on a big block and set in the middle of the lawn.
“Now, I reckon we are ready to celebrate!” cried Sam, after all the preparations were complete. “And we ought to have a dandy time.”
“We will have,” answered Dick.
“Best ever!” chimed in Tom.
CHAPTER X
WHEN THE CANNON WENT OFF
The boys went down to the railroad station in the new touring car to meet Mrs. Laning and the three girls, and possibly Mrs. Stanhope. The car was a fine seven-seat affair, of forty-horse power, and Dick ran it.
“It’s the slickest thing in cars I’ve seen!” cried the eldest Rover boy, enthusiastically. “A tour in it would be great.”
“Well, we’ll have to take a tour in it before the summer is over,” returned Sam.
The train was late and the boys waited impatiently for it to put in an appearance. When it did arrive they were delighted to see that Mrs. Laning had induced Mrs. Stanhope to come along.
“I wanted her to come for two reasons,” whispered Dick to Dora, after the first greetings were over. “I wished her here, and I was afraid, if she remained behind, Josiah Crabtree might try to visit her.”
“He did try, Dick,” answered the girl.
“What, again?”
“Yes, and what do you think? We had another visit from Tad Sobber.”
“And what did he say?”
“He wanted us to give him half of the fortune. Said that if we didn’t he would never rest until he got the money.”
“What did your mother do?”
“She had two hired men, who happened to be at the house, put him out.”
“Good! That’s the best way to treat him.”
“Mamma was very much upset, as you can imagine. And the very next day Josiah Crabtree called, and what do you think he said? He sent word by the maid that he had called not alone on his own behalf, but also on behalf of Sobber.”
“Oh, so that’s the way the wind blows, eh? They are going to form a sort of partnership, to see if they can’t get hold of your money, by one way or another.”
“It looks that way, Dick, and I am worried to death.”
“I’d like to run Sobber down and put him in prison. He has done a number of things for which he might be arrested.”
“I am trying to get mamma to take a trip somewhere. I want her to go in secret, so that Sobber and Mr. Crabtree can’t follow her.”
“That might be a good thing, Dora,” answered Dick, and then he had to turn his attention to running the touring car. Although the automobile was built for but seven, all had crowded in, Sam sitting in front on Tom’s lap, and the ladies and girls occupying the tonneau.
The run to the farm took but a few minutes, Dick “letting the machine out” in a manner that made the ladies gasp.
“Never rode so fast in my life, on a country road!” declared Mrs. Laning, on alighting. “It was like a train!”
“Oh, that was nothing,” answered Tom. “We can go twice as fast if we want to.”
“Not with me in the car!” declared the lady, firmly.
“It’s a splendid automobile,” said Mrs. Stanhope. “But I shouldn’t care to travel at racing speed in one.”
The visitors were warmly welcomed by Mrs. Rover and her husband and by the boys’ father, and soon all were made to feel at home. The best rooms in the farmhouse were given over to the guests, and Mrs. Rover had placed a beautiful bunch of June roses in each apartment.
“What lovely roses!” cried Mrs. Stanhope. “We have some, but not as grand as these!” And her face showed her satisfaction.
“It’s great to have you girls here!” declared Sam. “What a jolly family we would be if we all lived together!”
“Oh, what an idea!” cried Grace, but she smiled even as she spoke.
Of course the boys had to show the girls all over the farm, and Uncle Randolph took the ladies around, showing them the big barns and the cattle, the chickens, the horses, the pigs, and the orchards, and broad fields of corn, wheat, and other products. Then they came back to look at the neat vegetable garden, and Mrs. Rover’s flower plots, and also at the bees.
“I hope for great things from my bees,” announced Randolph Rover. “I have taken up the study of them with care, and I think I can produce a variety that will give us extra fine clover honey.”
“I thought you had your bees all in one place, Uncle Randolph,” said Dick, as he noticed a hive set apart from the others.
“That is a new family I bought last week,” was the explanation. “I am keeping them apart for the purpose of studying them. But they are rather wild as yet, and I do not dare to disturb them very much.”
“Oh, I can’t bear bees!” whispered Nellie to Tom. “Let’s get out of here,” and she walked away, and the others followed.
Although the young folks remained up rather late on the night before the Fourth, Tom, Dick and Sam arranged among themselves to get up early the next day, to fire a salute from the old cannon.
“We’ll surprise them all,” said Tom. “We’ll show ’em we can make a noise even if we are in the country.”
The boys crept downstairs at five o’clock and hurried out to the shed where the powder had been left. Bringing the box forth they took it to where the old cannon had been placed on the lawn. The piece was pointed towards an apple orchard, so that it might do no damage.
“Now, fill her up good!” cried Tom. “We want to make as much noise as we can with the first shot.”
“Don’t put in such a load that she bursts,” cautioned Dick.
The powder was measured out and put in, and then this was followed by a wad of paper Sam brought from the kitchen. They rammed the paper in good and tight.
“Now, I guess she’s ready to set off,” said Tom.
“Tom, don’t you stand too close,” said Dick. “That cannon might explode. Light the slow match and then run behind a tree, or the corner of the piazza.”
“All right, Dick. But I don’t think she’ll explode,” was the reply.
“Hello, goin’ to fire her off, eh?” came a voice from the fence, and Jack Ness appeared.
“Yes, Jack,” answered Sam. “But keep still—we want to surprise the folks.”
“Good enough,” murmured
the hired man. “You’ll do it right enough. Thet old cannon always was a snorter fer noise.” And he backed away towards the orchard to get behind a tree, out of the way of possible harm.
All being ready, Tom lit a match and applied it to the slow match of the cannon. Then he ran for the corner of the piazza, to join his brothers.
A few seconds passed—they seemed unusually long just then—but nothing happened.
“The slow match must have gone out,” murmured Tom.
“Don’t go back!—it may go off, yet,” answered Dick. “Sometimes—”
Bang! went the cannon, and the tremendous report echoed and re-echoed throughout the hills surrounding Valley Brook. The charge had been so big that the piece had “kicked back” about a yard.
“Say, that was a noise!”
“If that didn’t wake the folks up nothing will!”
“I’m glad she didn’t burst.”
“So am I.”
“By gum, you’re celebratin’ all right!” came from Jack Ness, as he poked his head from behind a tree. “I guess they must have heard that clear down to the Corners.”
“Further than that!” replied Tom.
“Oh, Tom, did you do that?” came a voice from an upper window, and Nellie showed her face.
“What an awful noise!” came from another window, as Dora appeared.
“Did it wake you up?” cried Tom.
“It made me bounce right out of bed!” declared Nellie. “I thought I was shot.”
“I thought the house had been hit,” said Dora.
“Did your cannon burst?” questioned Grace, as she appeared beside Nellie.
“Not a bit of it!” declared Tom. “Just listen, while we fire another shot.”
“Oh, Tom, wait till I put some cotton in my ears!” cried Mrs. Rover, as she showed herself, followed by the others.
“Boys, you didn’t shoot off anything in the cannon, did you?” asked Randolph Rover, nervously.
“Nothing but powder and paper, Uncle,” answered Sam.
“That ain’t so!” suddenly shouted Jack Ness. “By gum! You hit the bee hive, an’ here come the bees! Gee, shoo! Git out! Oh, my! I’m stung!” And he started to run from the orchard.
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