CHAPTER XII

TOM'S RUNAWAY



"Tom Mason is going to bring his colt out this afternoon," said Harry to

Bert, "and we can all take turns trying him."



"Oh, is it that pretty little brown horse I saw in the field back of Tom's

home?" asked Bert.



"That's him," Harry replied. "Isn't he a beauty!"



"Yes, I would like first-rate to ride him, but young horses are awful

skittish, aren't they?"



"Sometimes, but this one is partly broken. At any rate, we wouldn't have

far to fall, for he is a little fellow," said Harry.



So the boys went down to Tom's home at the appointed time, and there they

met Jack Hopkins.



"We've made a track around the fields," Tom told his companions, "and we

will train him to run around the ring, for father thinks he may be a race-

horse some day, he's so swift."



"You may go first," the boys told him, "as he's your horse."



"All right!" Tom replied, making for the stake where Sable, the pony, was

tied. Sable marched along quietly enough and made no objections to Tom

getting on his back. There was no saddle, but just the bit in the horse's

mouth and attached to it a short piece of rein.



"Get app, Sable!" called Tom, snapping a small whip at the pony's side.



But instead of going forward the little horse tried to sit down!



"Whoa! whoa!" called the boys, but Tom clung to Sable's neck and held on in

spite of the pony's back being like a toboggan slide.



"Get off there, get off there!" urged Tom, yet the funny little animal only

backed down more.



"Light a match and set it under his nose," Harry suggested. "That's the way

to make a balky horse go!"



Someone had a match, which was lighted and put where Sable could sniff the

sulphur.



"Look out! Hold on, Tom!" yelled the boys all at once, for at that instant

Sable bolted off like a deer.



"He's running away!" called Bert, which was plain to be seen, for Tom could

neither turn him this way or that, but had all he could do to hold on the

frightened animal's neck.



"If he throws him Tom will surely be hurt!" Harry exclaimed, and the boys

ran as fast as they could across the field after the runaway.



"Whoa! whoa ! whoa!" called everybody after the horse, but that made not the

slightest difference to Sable, who just went as if the woods were afire.

Suddenly he turned and dashed straight up a big hill and over into a

neighbor's cornfield.



"Oh, mercy!" cried Harry, "those people are so mean about their garden,

they'll have Tom arrested if there's any corn broken."



Of course it was impossible for a runaway horse to go through a field of

corn and do no damage, and Tom realized this too. By this time the dogs

were out barking furiously, and altogether there was wild excitement. At

one and of the field there was a high board fence.



"If I could only get him there he would have to stop," thought Tom, and

suddenly he gave Sable a jerk in that direction.



"Drop off, Tom, drop off!" yelled the boys. "He'll throw you against the

fence!"



But at that minute the little horse threw himself against the boards in such

a way that Tom slid off, yet held tightly to the reins.



The horse fell, quite exhausted.



As quickly as they could get there the boys came up to help Tom.



"Hurry!" said Harry, "there is scarcely any corn broken, and we can get away

before the Trimbles see us. They're away back in the fields planting late

cabbage."



Tom felt hardly able to walk, but he limped along while Harry led Sable

carefully between the cornhills. It was only a few feet to the edge of the

field, and then they were all safe on the road again.



"Are you hurt?" the boys asked Tom, when finally they had a chance to speak

about the runaway.



"I feel as if I had dropped from a balloon onto a lot of cobblestones," Tom

answered, "but I guess that's only the shaking up I got. That pony

certainly can go."



"Yes indeed," Harry admitted; "I guess he doesn't like the smell of sulphur

matches. Lucky he was not injured with that fall against the fence."



"I found I had to throw him," Tom said, "and I thought the fence was softer

than a tree."



"I suppose we ought to make him run until he is played out," said Bert,

"That's the way to cure a horse of running away."



But none of the boys felt like risking their bones even to cure Sable, so

the panting animal was led to the stable and for the rest of the day allowed

to think over his bad conduct.



But that was not the last of the runaway, for in the evening just after

supper old Mr. Trimble paid a visit to Tom's father.



"I came over to tell you what a scallywag of a boy you've got," began the

cross old man. "He and a lot of young loafers took a horse and drove him

all through my cornfield to-day, and now you've got to pay the damages."



"My son is not a scallywag," Mr. Mason declared, "and if you call him names

like loafer and scallywag I'll make you pay damages."



"Oh! you will, eh?" the other sneered. "Think I'm afraid of an old constable

up here, do you?"



"Well now, see here," Mr. Mason said, "Be reasonable and do not quarrel over

an accident. If any corn is knocked down I'll get Tom to fix it up, if it's

broken down we will see what it would cost to replace it. But the boys did

not do it purposely, and it was worse for Tom than anyone else, for he's all

black and blue from the hard knocks he got."



At this the cross man quieted down and said, Well, he would see about it.

Mr. Trimble was one of those queer people who believe all a boy is good for

is doing mischief and all a boy deserves is scolding or beating. Perhaps

this was because he had no sons of his own and therefore had no regard for

the sons of other people.



Mr. Mason went directly to the cornfield with his neighbor. He looked

carefully over every hill, and with a spade and hoe he was able to put back

into place the few stalks that had been knocked down in Sable's flight.



"There now," said Mr. Mason, "I guess that corn is as good as ever. If it

wants any more hoeing Tom will come around in the morning and do it. He is

too stiff to move to-night."



So that ended the runaway, except for a very lame boy, Tom Mason, who had to

limp around for a day or two from stiffness.



"How would you like to be a jockey!" laughed his companions. "You held on

like a champion, but you were not in training for the banging you got."



"Well, I guess Sable will make a fine racehorse," said Tom, "when he's

broken. But it will take someone stronger than I am to break him in."



The next afternoon all the boys went fishing. They had been out quite late

the night before to find the "night walkers" for bait, as those little worms

only come out of the ground after dark. Bert had a new line his father

brought from Lakeport, and the others boys had nets and hooks, as most

country boys who live near streams are always fond of fishing.



"Let's go over to the cove," Harry said when they all started off. "There's

lots of good fish in that dark corner."



So the cove was chosen as a good spot to fish from, and soon the Bobbsey

boys and their friends were Iying around the edge of the deep clear stream,

waiting for a bite.



Bert was the first to jerk his line, and he brought it up with such force

that the chubfish on his hook slapped Harry right in the face!



"Look out!" called Harry, trying to dodge the flapping fish. "Put your

catch down. He's a good one, but I don't care about having him kiss me that

way again."



All the boys laughed at Bert, who was a green fisherman they said. The fish

was really a very nice plump chub and weighed more than a pound. He

floundered around in the basket and flapped his tail wildly trying to get

away from them.



"I've got one," called Tom next, at the same moment pulling his line and

bringing up a pretty little sunfish. Now "sunnies" are not considered good

eating, so Tom's catch did not come up to Bert's, but it was put in the

basket just the same.



"I'm going out on the springboard," August Stout announced, stepping

cautiously out on the board from which good swimmers dived.



"You know you can't swim, August," said Harry, "and if you get a catch and

jerk it you'll tumble in."



"Oh! I'll be all right," August answered, lying down flat on the narrow

springboard and dropping his line.



For a time all the boys lay watching for a bite. No one spoke, for

sometimes they say fish are very sensitive to sound and go in another

direction if they hear a voice.



It was a beautiful July day, and perhaps the boys were a little lazy. At

any rate, they all became so quiet the little woodpeckers on the trees went

on with their work pecking at the tree bark as if no human being was in

sight.



Suddenly there was a big splash!



"August!" yelled all the boys at once, for indeed Angust was gone from the

springboard.



"Quick!" called Harry to his companions. "He can't swim!"



The next minute the boy in the water came to the top and threw up his arm.

But no one was near enough to reach it.



"Strike out, August!" yelled Bert. "We're coming," and one boy after the

other dropped in the water now, having thrown off their heavy clothing.



"Oh, where is he?" screamed Bert in terror, for no movement on the water's

surface showed them where August was.



"Here!" cried Tom Mason, who was quite a distance out. "Here he is! Help!

come quick!"



No need to urge the boys to hasten, for all realized the danger their

companion was in.



"Don't pull down, August," went on Tom. "Try to help yourself, or you'll

pull me under." Harry had around his neck a strong piece of rope he picked

up as he made a dive into the water.



"Take hold of this," he called to August, "and we can all pull."



As the rope was put in August's hand the other boys all took hold and soon

towed the unfortunate boy in.



"He's very weak," said Harry when they pulled August up on the shore. "I

guess he has swallowed a lot of water. We better roll him on the grass and

work his arms up and down. That will revive him."



August was indeed very weak, and had had a narrow escape. For some time his

companions worked over him before he opened his eyes and spoke.



"Oh!" he murmured at last, "I'm so sick!"



"I guess you are, August," said Tom, "but you'll be all right soon." They

lifted him carefully under a shady tree and removed his wet clothing.



"I'll run over to Smith's and get him something to wear home," said Harry,

who hurried across lots and presently returned with an old suit of clothes.

August was able to dress himself now, and as soon as he felt strong enough

the boys helped him home.



"You can have my fish, August," said Bert nobly.



"And mine too," Tom added. August did not want to accept the boys' offers

at first, but at last they prevailed upon him to do so.



"I think I fell asleep," said he, referring to the accident.



"Guess we all did!" added Harry, "for we only woke up when we heard the

splash."



It seems the number of accidents country boys have only make them truer

friends, for all the things that happened in Meadow Brook made each boy

think more of his companions both in being grateful for the help given and

being glad no dear friend's life was lost.

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