CHAPTER VI.
CAPTAIN QUINN’S MONKEY.
Fred’s parents were regular church attendants, and Fred himself rarelyfailed to appear with them at morning service on the Sabbath day. Itmust be regretfully confessed that church had little attraction for manyof the youths of Oakdale, and among those who seldom sat through asermon was Roy Hooker.
Roy, however, was waiting on the sidewalk in front of the church whenFred came out. It was a mild, sunny day, and the outside world lookedmost attractive. In response to a covert signal from Hooker, Sage joinedhim.
“Come for a walk, old man,” invited Roy. “Gee! you must be dopey,sitting in that dark old church and listening to a dry sermon.”
“I did get a bit sleepy,” Fred confessed. “You’re not going to walk far,are you?”
“Oh, you can suit yourself about that. What time do you have dinner?”
“Around two o’clock.”
“That will give us a couple of hours. It’s mighty pokey loafing aroundall day Sunday, with nothing for amusement. If you’d only go gunning——”
“Not on the Sabbath. Too many fellows do that around here.”
Fred’s parents had lingered to exchange a few words with some friends,and as they finally came down the walk he told them he was going for ashort stroll with Roy.
“Be home to dinner, surely,” urged his mother.
He promised, and set off with Hooker, turning down the street. At thesquare, in the center of the village, they turned on to Lake Street andproceeded eastward, passing the new bank, a small, square building ofbrick and stone.
“That makes a great improvement on this street,” commented Fred.
“Oh, yes,” nodded Hooker; “but it would have looked better had they beenable to purchase that little old hut and the land belonging to AaronQuinn. That shanty, squatting right there almost under the rear eaves ofthe bank, is a regular eyesore, but I understand old Quinn refused tosell at any price.”
The building in question was a tiny old house that stood some distancefrom the street, partly hidden by two large oak trees and a stragglinggrowth of lilac bushes. It was sorely in need of repairs and paint, andsome of the broken windows had been patched or stuffed with rags.
Aaron Quinn, the owner of this disreputable little shanty, was a surly,blustering old sea captain, who had given up his calling on account ofage and rheumatism and returned to spend the latter days of his life athis birthplace in Oakdale. His irascible temper and general crabbednessmade him more or less unpopular among the villagers, and especially sowith the boys of the town, who seldom lost an opportunity to jibe orannoy him.
As the two friends were passing beneath the spreading limbs of one ofthe oaks, something struck Roy on the shoulder and bounded to thesidewalk. It was an acorn, and Hooker might have thought that it hadfallen in a natural manner from the tree had it not been followed almostimmediately by another, which clipped the edge of his cap-visor.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, looking up. “Who’s throwing them? Oh, I see; it’sthat confounded monkey.”
Grinning down at the boys from one of the branches, a large monkey letfly another acorn with surprising accuracy. The creature belonged to theold sea captain, being, apparently, Quinn’s only congenial companion;and, like his master, the monkey had learned to detest the village lads.
“Ah! ha! Mr. Jocko,” cried Hooker, as he quickly stepped off thesidewalk and found a stone. “Two can play at that game.”
“Don’t,” said Fred.
But before he could interfere Roy had sent the stone whistling andclipping through the branches of the tree, causing Jocko to utter achattering scream of mingled dismay and defiance as he quickly mountedhigher.
In a moment there came a roar from the hut beyond the lilac bushes, andforth from the door, which had been standing ajar, issued Aaron Quinnwith his stout cane. At one time, although rather short of stature, hehad been a sturdy, husky man, who commanded the respect, if not theliking, of his sailors. Now the bushy fringe of whiskers beneath hischin seemed to bristle, his lips were drawn back from his teeth, and hiseyes glared with rage.
“You young lubber!” he shouted, as he came hobbling down the path,flourishing the cane. “I’ll teach ye! I’ll larn ye to stone my monkey!If I ketch ye, I’ll break your back!”
With a mocking shout of laughter and a taunt, Hooker took to his heels.
“Run, Fred!” he cried. “The old gink will swat you if you don’t!”
But Sage did not run. Instead, he remained calmly facing the wrathy oldsailor, who seemed bent on using the stout cane over the boy’s head.
“Why don’t you skedaddle?” snarled Captain Quinn. “Ain’t you got senseenough to run?”
“I didn’t do anything, and I sha’n’t run,” was the quiet retort. “Idon’t believe you’ll hit me.”
The man paused with the cane uplifted, surprise written on his face.
“Oh, it’s you, is it?” he said in a milder tone. “You’re about the onlybrat around here who hasn’t tried his tricks on me. You seem to bedifferent from the rest of these unmanly cubs. No, I won’t crack ye, butif ever I get my hands on that other rascal, he’ll have to take to hisbed.”
“Aw, you couldn’t catch a snail,” taunted Hooker. “Somebody will shootthat monkey of yours some day.”
“If anybody hurts him, they’ll sartain wish they hadn’t,” retortedQuinn. “He knows more than half the people in this town, and that ain’tgiving him a great deal of credit. Here, Jocko—here, come down.”
Chattering a little, the monkey slowly swung himself down to the lowerlimbs and dropped to his master’s shoulder, where he perched in evidentassurance of security, making faces at the boys.
Fred laughed and rejoined Hooker, while, assisted by his cane, AaronQuinn hobbled back toward the hut, carrying the monkey.
“It would be a good thing if that old pirate would get out of town,”said Roy. “He’s no benefit to the place.”
“He’s harmless enough if people will let him alone,” retorted Fred; “buthe’s been pestered so much that he seems to have it in for everybody. Atthe most, it’s doubtful if he lives many years, and when he dies thebank people will doubtless get his little place for what it’s reallyworth.”
They proceeded on their way, the conversation soon drifting into otherchannels, football for a time being the main topic, as, to Sage’ssurprise, Hooker betrayed considerable interest in the game.
“You’re right about old Stoney,” he said. “He knows the new rules. Why,he must have studied them until he has every word by heart. Perhapshe’ll make a fairly good captain, after all, though he never can come upto Roger Eliot.”
AARON QUINN HOBBLED BACK TOWARD THE HUT, CARRYING THE MONKEY.—Page 74.]
“Perhaps not,” admitted Sage. “Eliot certainly was a natural leader atanything he undertook. I’m glad you came out yesterday.”
“Oh, it isn’t likely I’ll get a chance to play.”
“I’ll guarantee you will if you pitch in. Why, there’s Piper, the lastfellow one would ever suppose could make good at the game.”
“That’s right,” agreed Roy. “Say, he came round and interviewed me lastnight. He’s got another bug in his bonnet. Asked me all sorts ofquestions about the strange man I saw in the woods. What do you supposehe thinks he’s up to?”
“He’s struck a trail,” laughed Fred. “He was up at my house to see me,too.”
“Well, it would give me some satisfaction if he could find out who theman was. Don’t suppose you were able to enlighten him any?”
“Not a bit. I told you yesterday that I hadn’t the remotest idea who thestranger could be.”
“I know you did, but I thought you might have placed him since.”
Down the river on the road to Clearport they entered a grove and satchatting for some time on a fallen tree. Roy was anxious for anothergunning expedition, but Fred feared that school work and footballpractice wo
uld give him little time for it. Finally they returned to thevillage, and Roy walked up Main Street to accompany his friend part ofthe way toward home.
On the sidewalk in front of Urian Eliot’s house they saw Mr. Eliottalking with Lucius Timmick, the cashier of the bank. Timmick was a manunder thirty years of age, thin, smooth-faced, save for some high cut“siders,” and a trifle sanctimonious in his manner. He was dressedwholly in black and carried a Bible in his hand.
Mr. Eliot spoke pleasantly to the boys as they passed, and Timmick gavethem a grudging nod.
“That dried-up shrimp makes me tired,” muttered Hooker. “Just becauseUrian Eliot took him into the bank and made him cashier, he thinks he’ssomething. I know him; he always was a sneak. Why, he used to watch theboys nights and blow on them every time they had a little fun. He caughtus hooking apples once, and made an awful fuss about it. Talked ofhaving some of us sent to the reform school. Now he teaches a class inSabbath School, and butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.”
“It is evident,” smiled Fred, “that you don’t love Mr. Timmick much.”
“You wouldn’t think much of him either, if you’d lived long in Oakdale.He has too much dignity now to sneak round nights trying to find outwhat the fellows are doing, but he’s just as much a fox as he ever was.If I was president of a bank, I’d never trust him to handle the cash.”
“Evidently Mr. Eliot trusts him thoroughly.”
“Oh, yes, he’s got Urian Eliot fooled. Well, guess I’ll hike for home,as Rod Grant would say. Bye, bye, old man.”
Thus far Fred had found no good opportunity to tell his father privatelyabout the mysterious stranger and about what he had seen from his windowthe night before, nor did he find such a chance that day. The followingmorning he dismissed the matter from his mind, fancying it improbablethat the man would again be seen around Oakdale.