The Clockwork Twin (16 page)

At first they had felt sorry for him. But after he had said: “Ouch!” about two hundred times they didn't have any sorry feeling left.

“I wish you'd shut up about that tooth,” said Eeny finally. “All you have to do is have it out, and then it won't ache any more.”

“That's all you know about it,” said Quik. “And I must say you aren't very sympathetic. When I'm suffering tortures! Oh! Ouch! There it goes again.”

Cousin Augustus opened one eye, stretched, opened the other eye, and gave a loud yawn. At least it was loud for a mouse. “Still yawping about that tooth?” he inquired sleepily. “Go on in and see Uncle Ben. He'll yank it out with those little pliers of his. Just one terrible final pang, and it's gone forever. Whew, I'm
hot!
And sticky. Wonder why it always makes you sticky to sleep in the daytime? Let's go down and have a swim.”

Quik followed his brothers slowly down from the beam. They had to pass through the loft where Uncle Ben was at work on his clocks. Suddenly Eek and Eeny, who had been whispering together, turned and grabbed Quik and they dragged him, protesting shrilly, up on to the work-bench. Then Cousin Augustus held his mouth open with his paws.

“Tooth?” said Uncle Ben.

“Yes, he's decided to have it out at last,” said Eeny.

Quik tried to say something, but both Cousin Augustus's forepaws were in his mouth so all that came out was a faint squeak.

Uncle Ben didn't use his pliers. He just reached in with a finger and thumb and the tooth was so loose that it almost fell into his hand. Then he scratched the still struggling Quik gently between the ears, grinned at him, and went back to his work.

Quik was pretty mad, and he said what he thought of his brothers in no uncertain terms. But pretty soon he calmed down. For after he had poked his tongue into the hole where the tooth had been a few times, he found that the ache was indeed gone. “Just the same,” he said, “you didn't have to drag me in like that. I was going anyway. I just didn't like to—
erk!”
he went hiccuping suddenly. “There! You see? Now you've given me the hiccups.”

They went down across the barnyard to the duck pond. Alice and Emma were sitting comfortably under the shade of a bush, and Quik joined them while the other three mice plunged into the water.

“Why aren't you going in, Quik?” Alice asked.

“I just had my tooth pulled,” said the mouse. “I was afraid I might catch cold in it.”

Alice gave a little quacking laugh. “How funny you are, Quik! How could you catch cold in it if it isn't there?”

“He means that he might catch cold in the place where it was, sister,” said Emma. “I don't think you ought to laugh at him. It must be dreadful to have teeth. You ought to be a duck, Quik.”

“Erk!” said the mouse.

“I beg your pardon?” said Emma politely.

“I—that was just a hiccup. I didn't say anything.”

“Oh, look, sister!” exclaimed Alice, ruffling her feathers in alarm. “Is that a hawk?”

High up in the blue above them a black speck was floating. It hardly seemed to move, then suddenly it began to grow in size—larger, larger, larger.…

Quacking distractedly, the ducks ran for cover, burrowing into the long grass. The mice were less frightened. There was little danger from a hawk they could see. It was only when a hawk pounced on them unawares that they might be caught. They crouched under the bank, watching.

The hawk came down like a bullet, his wings folded. But he was not aiming at the ducks. There was a tremendous splash in the middle of the pond, he went completely under, then came up, and they could hear the whistle of his feathers as his wings beat the air, and see the silvery gleam of the fish in his curved beak. He circled the pond, then lighted on a dead limb overhead.

He was a beautiful bird, almost as big as an eagle, with black and white plumage. He held the fish in one claw while he cocked his head to look down with fierce yellow eyes into the ducks' hiding-place.

“Come on out, girls,” he said. “Today's Friday—fish day.” He laughed and began to eat the fish. His laugh was harsh, but rather pleasant-sounding.

Alice and Emma came waddling out, smoothing down their feathers and trying to look dignified. “I guess we know an osprey when we see one,” said Emma. “We weren't hiding. That is,” she added, not wanting to be untruthful, “we weren't hiding from you.”

“You'd be fools if you did,” said the fish-hawk. “I'd have to be darned hungry to eat duck. No offence,” he said quickly.

“None taken,” said Alice. “But do you live around here? I haven't seen you before.”

“Gosh, no, I come from up Boonville way. North of here a long ways. I'm just going down into the southern part of the state to visit my aunt. Not that I want to see her much. She's got pretty cranky the past few years, living alone as she does. But she lives on the Susquehanna, and I'm told that the fishing down there is pretty good this year, after the floods. Hope the fish are better than this one. Pretty brackish, he was. I expect this water is too stagnant.”

“It's very good water,” said Alice sharply. “It's the clearest, purest water in the county. My Uncle Wesley always said so, and he
knew.”

“Must be a terrible county,” said the hawk, laughing again. “Oh now, don't get sore. I was only kidding you.—Well, what's the matter with that mouse?” For Quik, who with the other mice had come out on the bank, had hiccuped again.

“I've got the hiccups,” said Quik. “I had a tooth pulled and that started me doing it, and now I can't stop.”

“Do you want to stop?” asked the fish-hawk.

“Of course I want to stop,” said Quik crossly. “You don't think I—erk!—enjoy it, do you?”

“Well, I dunno. I thought maybe you wanted to do it so you could give pleasure to others. It seems to amuse your friends.”

“They aren't my friends, they're my brothers,” said Quik.

“Ah, that's different,” said the hawk seriously. “Well, I can stop the hiccups for you.” He winked at the ducks, spread his wings, and rose in the air. He circled the pond once, then, with a quick swoop, swept up Quik in his strong claws, carried him out over the pond, and dropped him in.

Quik swam rapidly to shore. He stared up angrily at the hawk, who had returned to the dead limb. “You big bully,” he said. “I'll get even with you for this. You wait—I'll—”

“Oh, come, come,” said the hawk good-naturedly. “I didn't hurt you, did I? The only way to cure hiccups is to get good and scared. I scared 'em out of you. You ought to be grateful.”

“Eh?” said Quik. “Why, you did. They're gone.”

“Sure, they're gone. And I'd better be gone too, if I expect to get to my aunt's in time for dinner. Well, so long.” With a swish of wings he took flight.

“Well, I must say,” said Emma, “he's a lively one and no mistake. I wouldn't wonder if—”

“Here he comes back again,” said Alice.

They looked up to see the hawk alight again on the dead branch.

“Say, look here,” he said, “how'd that boy over there back of the pigpen get down here so quick?”

“Down here?” said Alice. “What do you mean? What boy?”

“He means Adoniram, I guess,” said Eeny. “He's over there with Freddy, having a laughing lesson.”

“Why, he lives here,” said Alice.

“Go on,” said the hawk. “I guess I know that boy. I've seen him enough times lately, fishing in the canal up by Boonville. He was there when I left this morning, and unless he flew he couldn't have got here before I did.”

“Wait a minute,” said Cousin Augustus excitedly. “Do you know what he's saying, you people? A boy that looks like Adoniram, fishing in the canal? Oh, look, you, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is, where did you say that boy was?”

“Take it easy, mouse, or you'll be getting the hiccups like your brother,” said the hawk. “What is all this, anyway?”

“Why, the boy you left this morning must be the boy we've all been looking for,” said Alice. And she explained about the search for Byram. “But haven't you seen the notices in the papers, or the handbills Mr. Boomschmidt got out, offering a reward?”

“I'm not much of a hand for reading, and that's the truth,” said the hawk. “But if what you say is so—”

“Certainly it is so,” said Alice with dignity.

“All right, don't get het up. That's just a manner of speaking. I mean, if this is the boy, I can tell you where to find him all right. Wheel Boy, that's a classy car. Belong to your boss?”

A long black car had turned in at the gate, and they could see it bumping across the barnyard and down the lane to the pigpen, where it stopped. A chauffeur in a black uniform got out and opened the door, and a large woman, twinkling and fluttering all over with ribbons and jewels, was helped out. They saw her go forward, holding out her hand, and disappear on the other side of the pigpen.

“Some class,” said the hawk. “We don't see 'em like that up around Boonville much. All rigged out like Washington crossing the Delaware, ain't she?”

“That's Mrs. Church,” said Eek. “But look, would you go over and tell Freddy and Adoniram what you've just told us? And where to find this boy? You'll get the reward if he's the right one, you know.”

“Don't give a cent for rewards,” the hawk replied. “Lot of speeches, and a medal with about fifty cents' worth of silver in it. But I'm glad to be any help. Only I can't take all day. The Susquehanna's a-callin' me.”

They hurried over to the pigpen, where they found Freddy and Adoniram and Mrs. Church. Freddy had just told Mrs. Church about the laughing lessons, and some of the jokes that he used in them, and Mrs. Church was laughing so hard that for a few minutes they had to wait. When Mrs. Church laughed, she laughed all over, and as for conversation—you might as well have tried to talk in the middle of a band concert.

But pretty soon she stopped and wiped her eyes, and Alice went up to Adoniram and told him what they had just learned.

“The Black River Canal,” said the boy. “Where's that?”

“It runs north from Rome,” said the hawk.

“Rome is where one of those letters came from,” said Freddy. “So Byram must have gone north instead of east. Well, I guess Georgie and I had better go up there and see if we can find him. You'd better come, too, Adoniram. How far is it?”

“About a hundred miles, I guess,” said the hawk.

“H'm. It'll take us four or five days. Well, we can only hope he won't have gone on to somewhere else by the time we get there.”

“A hundred miles!” said Mrs. Church. “Why we can do it in three hours in my car. I'll take you. Get Georgie, Adoniram. And you animals hop in—yes, the mice too, if you'd like the ride. And the ducks.”

Alice and Emma wanted to go, but they were a little terrified at the idea of traveling at high speed along the highway, and so they said politely: “Oh, thank you very much, but we really
think
… We don't want to crowd you.”

Mrs. Church laughed. “If you think you two ducks can crowd
me
, just go ahead and try it. Come, hop in. There's plenty of room. Just move that alarm clock over, and keep it in the car to wake Riley up when it's time for him to call for me. I'd ask Mrs. Wiggins to go, but I'm afraid she couldn't manage the door. Now you”—she turned to the hawk—“tell the chauffeur just where to go.”

So the hawk gave them directions, and said: “Oh, not at all, not at all; glad to be of service,” when they thanked him. And as the big car, having stopped to pick up Georgie, shot out of the front gate, he looked after them and shrugged his sharp shoulders. “Guess they're pokin' into trouble. Maybe I ought to have told them about the gypsies. But it's none of my business.” Then he spread his broad wings, rose above the tree-tops, and headed in the direction of his aunt's home on the Susquehanna.

XIII
The Gypsy Camp

“Looks more like a ditch than a canal,” said Mrs. Church.

The big car had stopped on a bridge. Under it the Black River Canal ran narrow and straight and muddy. A little way north of them they could see where it ran through wooden gates to a higher level. Those were the lock gates. A boat, going up, would be pulled into the lock, the gate closed behind it; then the sluices in the upper gate would be opened. Water from above would pour in, filling the lock, and the boat would rise with the water. When it had reached the level of the water above, the upper gate would be opened, and the boat would go on. Going down, the process was reversed. These locks—of which in the Black River Canal there are in one stretch seventy in five miles—were like steps, up and down which the canal boats climbed.

“Well, no use staying here,” said Mrs. Church. “He said the place was about quarter of a mile below the bridge. Can you drive down on to the towpath, Riley?”