Randy of the River Part 17

"Sammy," said his mother, solemnly, "it would be the ruination of you; you'd git shot, or something wuss. You ain't nuthin' but a boy, an'

couldn't be trusted nohow."

"Ain't I fourteen, an' ain't I 'most six feet high?" answered back Sammy, defiantly. "An' didn't d.i.c.k Slade, who is only thirteen, go down last Fourth an' have a smas.h.i.+n' good time an' not git hurt?"

"But you ain't got no experience, Sammy."

"I've got enough to go to Springfield."

"No, you had better give up the notion."

"Now, mother, don't say that!" pleaded the son.

"But I do say it."

"Well, then I'm going to--to run away! I'll go to sea an' be a sailor, or sumthin'!" burst out Sammy, recklessly. "I'm sick o' workin' every single day!"

"Stop talking in that dreadful way, Sammy!" said Mrs. Borden, anxiously.

"Then you ask paw to let me go."

"'Twon't do no good."

"Yes, it will. You ask him, won't you?" pleaded the son.

At last Mrs. Borden consented and spoke to her husband about it during the dinner hour. Jerry Borden shook his head.

"He can't go--it's sheer foolishness," he said.

"If you don't let him go I'm afraid he will run away," said the wife.

"He has his heart set on going." Sammy was out of the room at the time, so he could not hear the talk.

At first Mr. Borden would not listen, but at last he gave in, although he added grimly that he thought running away would do Sammy a world of good.

"He'd be mighty glad to sneak back afore a week was up," he said.

When Sammy realized that he was really to go to the city he was wild with delight, and rushed down into the hayfield to tell Randy of his plans.

"I'm a-goin' to have a highfalutin' time," he said. "Just you wait until I come back an' tell about it."

"I hope you do have a good time," answered our hero, "and don't get hurt."

"There won't nothin' happen to me," answered Sammy, confidently.

Early on the morning of Independence Day Sammy stood at the door of the farmhouse arrayed in his Sunday best. His folks were there to see him off.

"My son," said Mr. Borden, "don't ye be wasteful o' your money, an'

don't git in no sc.r.a.pes."

"An' remember, Sammy, to keep all the Commandments," added his mother, as she kissed him tenderly.

Soon he was off, down the side road towards the highway, where the stage pa.s.sed that ran to the railroad station. His walk took him by the Thompson cottage. Randy was at home and fixing up the garden.

"I'm off!" yelled Sammy, waving his hand.

"Good luck!" cried Randy, pleasantly. "Don't get your head shot off."

"He may lose his head without having it shot off," remarked Mr.

Thompson, who sat on the porch, with his rheumatic side in the suns.h.i.+ne.

"I do not think it very wise to let him go to the city alone," put in Mrs. Thompson from the kitchen.

Sammy tramped on until he came to the main highway and there waited impatiently for the stage to appear. He got a seat by the driver, and in less than an hour reached the railroad station. He had been on the cars before, yet the ride was much of a novelty.

At last the country boy found himself on the streets of Springfield.

There was an extra celebration of some sort going on and great crowds flocked on every side. Poor Sammy was completely bewildered, as he was jostled first one way and then another.

"Well, by gos.h.!.+ If this don't beat anything I ever see!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Where in thunder did all the folks come from, anyway?"

Sammy looked so truly rural that he attracted the attention of two street urchins who were standing close by.

"There's a greeny, I'll bet a hat!" said one of them, nudging his companion.

"A regular one and no mistake," answered the second urchin.

"Let's have a little fun out of him."

"How?"

"Just look and you'll see how I fix him."

So speaking, he took a bunch of firecrackers from his pocket and, with a pin, attached it to the tail of Sammy's coat. Then he set the bunch on fire and slipped back into the crowd.

Crack! Crack! Bang!

The plot took effect. Sammy was aroused from his reverie by explosion after explosion in his immediate rear. He started and leaped into the air in wild amazement.

"By thunder!" he gasped. "Is thet a cannon bustin'?"

The crackers continued to go off, and poor Sammy leaped around worse than ever.

"Say, mister, what's up?" he asked of a man who was laughing loudly.

"Look behind you," answered the man.

Sammy did so. One look was enough. He began to bellow like a bull and started off on a run, knocking down several people who happened to be in his way. At last a police officer stopped him.

"What do you mean by making such a disturbance?" demanded the officer.