CHAPTER XXI
THE MEETING
A TERRIBLE dread filled Johnnie's heart--that heart which had alwaysknown so much dread. It took away his desire to go upon the roof; itkept him awake long into the night, tugging at his hair, twisting andturning upon his mattress, sighing, even weeping a little out of sheerhelplessness. Having his normal amount of the reserve, dignity and pridethat is childhood's, his dread was not that Big Tom, when he returned tomeet Mr. Perkins, would be rude to the scoutmaster (it did not occur tohim that the longshoreman would dare to go that far); it was that, inthe presence of the new friend whose good opinion Johnnie longed tokeep, Barber would order him around, jerk him by a sleeve, or shove himrudely--treat him, in fact, with that lack of respect which was usual,and thus mortify him.
The full moon was again lifting above the city and touching all theroofs with silver. From where he lay he looked out and up, trying toforget his wretchedness, but living the coming encounter again andagain. His ears grew hot as Barber seized one of them and wrung it, orbrushed his face with a hard, sweaty hand. Imagining insult upon insult,his chest heaved and his wet eyes burned.
"Oh, One-Eye!" he whispered to a dear image that seemed to fill themorris chair, "if _you_ was only here! Gee, Big Tom never dast treat mebad before you!" It was not that he felt for a moment that the cowboywas the better friend of the two whom he revered and loved; they heldequal places in his affections. But Mr. Perkins was too much of agentleman to be awe-inspiring. The Westerner, in his big hat and hishairy breeches, was the man to be feared!
At breakfast he was given no chance to talk matters over with Cis. Andshe neither saw his signals nor heard them, though he arranged both thestove and the table to warn her that something had happened, and coughedcroupily till Barber told him roughly to shut up. He comforted himselfwith reflecting that it would have done him no good had they threshedthe coming crisis out.
It was a shaken, hollow-eyed, miserable, unbathed little boy thatgreeted Mr. Perkins when the scoutmaster rapped. And the sight of thelatter only made Johnnie's spirits sink lower. He had hoped with all hisheart that the leader would come in all the grandeur and pride of hisuniform; and here was Mr. Perkins in a light suit, a straw hat, andwhite socks. The fact that he had on a lavender tie and was carryingbrown gloves made things just that much worse. Steadily, during the pastfortnight, the scoutmaster had been dressing better and better. Thismorning he was finer than ever before. It was awful.
"You'll see," mourned Johnnie, his eyes on the clock as he talked."He'll be awful mean t' me. Here he says I can't listen t' scoutin' nomore! N'r nothin'! Say, Mister Perkins, if he shoves at me, would y'ever give him biscuits and gravy again?"
Mr. Perkins thought it over. "Well, under the same circumstances," hesaid finally, "what do you think Theodore Roosevelt would do?"
Johnnie could not decide. He felt that a look at the picture would help.Hunting a match, he disappeared into the blue room, struck a light, andgave the likeness a searching look. "I don't 'xac'ly know," he declaredwhen he came out; "but, Mister Perkins, I b'lieve maybe he'd just _lick_him!"
A queer gleam came into those eyes which were a coffee-brown. "Ishouldn't be surprised," said Mr. Perkins, "if that isn't precisely whatthe Colonel would do."
The door opened. It was Big Tom. His cargo hook hung round his greatneck. His hat was pushed back, uncovering a forehead seamed and sweaty.To Johnnie he looked bigger and blacker than usual--this in comparisonwith Mr. Perkins, so slim, if he was fully as tall as Barber, and soimmaculate, even dainty!
The older man had an insolent smile in those prominent eyes of his, anda sneer bared his tobacco-stained teeth. Slamming the door, he camesauntering toward the scoutmaster, who had risen; he halted withoutspeaking, then deliberately, impudently, he stared Mr. Perkins from headto foot.
The latter glanced back, and with much interest, not staring, yet seeingwhat sort of looking man the longshoreman was. To judge by theexpression in the brown eyes he did not like the kind. For suddenly hiseyelids narrowed, and the lines of his mouth set. "Introduce me,Johnnie," he said.
Anxious, alert, and not hopeful, Johnnie had been watching the two, thisfrom the farther side of the table, so that he should not be handy incase his giant foster father wanted to maul him. "This is MisterBarber," he began, speaking the name as politely as he could, butforgetting to complete the introduction.
"Tommie's home! Tommie's home!" piped up old Grandpa, suddenly wakingfrom his morning nap, and evidently not happy over his discovery.
"My name is Perkins," said the scoutmaster to Barber. He spokecourteously, but there was no cringing in his manner.
"Perkins, huh?" returned Barber, grinning. He was so close to the otherthat they all but touched. "And when did the cat bring _you_ in?"
In very horror those lead-pipe legs of Johnnie's almost gave way beneathhim, so that he clung to the table for support. "Oh!" he breathed.
But Mr. Perkins was smiling. "The cat brought me in just before hebrought you in," he answered quietly.
The reply wrought an instant and startling change in Big Tom. The smilewent from the bloodshot eyes, giving place to that white flash of rage.The heavy nose gave a quick twist. Every hair in the short beard seemedto bristle. "Now there's somebody in this room that's gittin' fresh," heobserved; "and freshness from a kid is somethin' I can't stand. I don'tmention no name, but! If it happens _again_"--he paused foremphasis--"I'll slap the fancy eyeglasses right off his face!"
There was a tense pause. The two at the center of the room were gazingstraight at each other; and it seemed to Johnnie, wavering weaklyagainst the table, that he would die from fear.
However, Mr. Perkins was not frightened. His hat was in his left hand.He let it drop to the floor. But he did not move back an inch, whilethose well-kept hands curled themselves into knots so hard that theirknuckles were topped with white. "You wanted to see me?" he said.
"Y're wrong!" declared Big Tom. "I didn't want t' see y'. I had t' seey'."
"I note the distinction," returned Mr. Perkins.
"Y' do! Well, just listen t' me a second," counseled Barber, "before wegit started on to what I've got t' say." Now his anger flamed higher. Hebegan to shake a big finger. "Don't you put on no fancy airs with me!Y' git that? For the good and simple reason that I won't stand for 'em!"He chawed on nothing.
"I was not aware that I _was_ putting on any fancy airs," answered Mr.Perkins. "Airs are something that I don't--waste."
"Any high-falutin' stuff would be wasted 'round here," went on Barber."We're just plain, hard-workin', decent people.--And now we'll git downto brass tacks." He passed in front of Mr. Perkins and settled himselfheavily in the morris chair.
The scoutmaster faced about, found the kitchen chair, and sat. "I'mlistening," he said. He was businesslike, even cordial.
"You seem t' hang 'round here about two-thirds of your time," commentedBig Tom, hunting his pipe.
"No," contradicted Mr. Perkins, easily. "Lately, I've been coming hereone hour a day."
"And just what's the idear?" The big fingers plucked blindly at thestrings of a tobacco-bag, for Big Tom did not take his eyes from theyounger man.
"I've been giving the boy setting-up exercises," explained Mr. Perkins.
"Y' have!"--sarcastically. "Ain't that sweet of y'!" Then with animpatient gesture that scattered tobacco upon the floor, "Exercises!"Big Tom cried wrathfully. "_Exercises!_ As if he can't git all theexercises he needs by doin' his work! I have t' feed that kid, and feedcosts money. He knows that. And he earns. Because he ain't no grafter."
In sheer amazement, Johnnie's look strayed to Mr. Perkins. He hadexpected mistreatment and insult for himself, and here he was receivingpraise!
"There's a difference in exercising," said Mr. Perkins. "Johnnie getsone kind while he's doing his work. But his work is all inside work,out of the fresh air that every boy needs. And certain of his musclesare not developed. I've been correcting that undevelopment by giving himthe regular setting-up th
at we give all boy scouts."
"Shucks, your boy scouts!" sneered Big Tom. "We got no time for 'em.We're poor, and we're busy, and we got a' old, sick man on our hands.That's scoutin' enough!"
"Many men who have boys think as you do," acknowledged Mr. Perkins,serenely. "That is, at first."
"I think it first and second," returned Big Tom, raising his voice. "Andalso I know it."
"I promise you that it won't hurt Johnnie," urged the scoutmaster.
"Yeh? But I know what _would_ hurt Johnnie, and that's growin' up t'look like _you_!"
At that, Mr. Perkins burst out in a laugh. It was both good-natured andamused. "Well, my looks suit me," he declared.
"Which is more'n _I_ can say of 'em," retorted Barber. "They don't suitme a _little_ bit!"
Mr. Perkins laughed again. "Sorry," he said, but his tone entirelycontradicted his assertion.
Barber kept on: "Your looks don't suit me, and neither does your talk.You're altogether too slick, too pink-and-whity, too eye-glassy, andpurple-shirty, and cute-socky, and girl-glovy."
"I see."
"T' put it plainer, y' don't look t' me like a real man." Out now camethe underlip, threatening, aggressive.
"Indeed?" Dire as the insult was, Mr. Perkins was still smiling, waseven a trifle bored. "And what kind of a chap _do_ you think is a realman?"
"Somebody," answered Big Tom, "that's ev'rything you ain't. Why, honest,you look too nice t' me t' be out in bad weather. Y' know, one of thesedays you'll melt, 'r git streaked."
"Mm! Perhaps I'm too clean." Those coffee-colored eyes were cool. Withone swift up and down they examined Big Tom's apparel.
The longshoreman squirmed under the scrutiny. "Y' don't look like y'veever done a lick of honest work in your whole life!" he declared hotly."Y' look like your pink face was made o' dough, and the balance of y'out o' putty! Y' look as if the calf'd licked y'!"
Again that amused, bored smile. "No," said Mr. Perkins, "that hasn'thappened yet."
"No? Well, y' never can tell. Y' _might_ git licked by somethin'_besides_ a calf."
Another of those pauses which seemed so terribly long to Johnnie, and sofraught with direful possibilities. Then, "I might," agreed thescoutmaster, carelessly; "but again I--might not."
Now Barber showed that he did not possess the self-control thatdistinguished the younger man. His heavy, hair-rimmed mouth working asif with unspoken words, he rose, pocketed the pipe, and took a long steptoward the table, upon which he planted both his huge hands. As heleaned there, it was plain that he longed for trouble. "I might not!" hemocked, disgusted. "Sure, y' might! For the reason that you ain't thekind that's got a wallop in your fist!"
Mr. Perkins got up, too. But only as if it were the well-bred thing todo. The bronze of his face was considerably darker than usual; and hiseyes were black, and shone like great beads. "Ah!" he exclaimed, asamused as ever. "Now I think I know what it is that you respect most inmen. Brute force. Am I right? Muscle! The power to give a hard blow."
"Dead right!" answered Barber, striking the table with his open hand."I hate a mollycoddle! a cutie! a reg'lar _pill_!"
Mr. Perkins nodded in the friendliest way. "So do I," he declaredheartily. "And that's just why I want to train Johnnie's muscles, andteach him how to use his hands."
Big Tom straightened and went round the table. "I'll train Johnnie'smuscles," he said; "and I'll teach him what t' do with his hands, too.And you keep your nose out of it. Understand?" Then deliberatelyreaching out, with one finger he gave Mr. Perkins a poke in the chest.
That chest swelled under the neatly buttoned light coat. Yet Mr. Perkinscontinued to smile. But he did not move back by so much as an inch. Andpresently, with a low "Bah!" of anger and disgust, the longshoremanloafed away. "All right," he drawled, in a tone of dismissal; "and nowI'll ask for your room."
"My room?" The scoutmaster did not appear to understand.
"Yes! Yes!"--loudly, and facing round. "I'm askin' y' not t' bother usany more this mornin' with your ever-lastin' talk!"
"Oh. You wish me to go." Mr. Perkins took up his hat and gloves.
"My, but you're smart!" exclaimed Barber, sarcastically. "You canunderstand plain English!--Yes, _dear_ Mister Perkins, I mean that Idon't want y' round." With that he continued on to the hall door, andopened it. "This way out," he said flippantly. The brown teeth showedagain.
Mr. Perkins gave Johnnie a cheery smile. "Good-by, old chap," he said.He went to the wheel chair and laid a gentle hand on Grandpa's shoulder."Good-by, Grandpa!"
"Good-by, General!" quavered the old man. "Good-by!" A shaking handlifted in a salute.
Mr. Perkins gave Barber a courteous nod as he passed him. "Good-by," hesaid pleasantly.
"Good-by," returned Barber. "And good riddance!" He slammed the door.
Then something strange happened--something that had never happenedbefore. Without giving Johnnie a look, Barber lifted down the lamp,lighted it, carried it into Cis's room, and closed the door.
Rooted to the floor, alert as any frightened mouse, Johnnie listened. Hecould hear the longshoreman moving about, and the scrape of thedressing-table box as it was lifted from its place, then shoved back.What was Barber hunting? Fortunately the books were wound up inJohnnie's bedding, a precaution taken by their owner in view of Barber'sspoken determination to return and take a look at Mr. Perkins. By anychance did the longshoreman know about the Handbook? If he did, and ifhe found it, what would happen then?
After what seemed a long time, Barber appeared. Except for the lamp, hishands were empty. He blew into the top of the chimney and set the lampback in its place. "Tea," he ordered.
Startled, Johnnie fairly rose into the air. When he touched the flooragain, he was halfway to the stove. He set the table for one, musteringthe food which Big Tom was to have had in the lunch pail. Barber ate,occasionally growling under his breath; or blew fiercely at the fullsaucer from which he was drinking. His look roved the room as if he werestill searching. His meal finished, he found his hat, hung the cargohook about his neck, and slouched out.
Then for the first time Johnnie relaxed, and slumped into the morrischair. He was not only weak, he was sick--too sick with bitterness andhate and shame and rage even to care to go into Cis's room to see inwhat condition Big Tom had left it. He knew now that the rough handlingthat he had feared for himself, though it would have been hard enough toendure, was less than nothing when compared with what he had suffered inseeing Mr. Perkins insulted, and ordered out.
He began to talk to himself aloud: "Good turns don't work! I'm sorry Iever done him one! I'll never do him another, y' betcher life!" Blackdiscouragement possessed him. What good did it do any one to treat a manlike Barber well? "Why, he's worse'n that mean Will Atkins that Crusoehates!" he declared. "And the first time I git a chance, away I'll go,Mister Tom Barber, and this time I won't _never_ come back!"
"Sh!" whispered old Grandpa. "Sh!" The faded blue eyes were full offear.
Johnnie fed the old soldier and got him to sleep. Then he tapped thebasket signal up to Mrs. Kukor's. He had found the bed roll undisturbed,and knew that Big Tom had not discovered his treasures. But he would nottake any further chances. When the basket came swinging slowly down, hecalled a brief explanation to the little Jewish lady. When the basketwent up, it swung heavily, for his six precious books were in it.
Now he had no time, and no inclination, for reading. And he had nopatience for any law that aimed to stand in his way. (Big Tom had drivenMr. Perkins from the flat; also, he had just about swept the place cleanof every good result that the scoutmaster had worked.) What Johnnie felturged to do seemed the only thing that could lessen all that rage andshame, that hate and bitterness, which was pent up in his thin littlebody.
"So I can't ever be a scout, eh?" he demanded. "Well, you watch me!" Heplanted the kitchen with a trackless forest through which boomed a windoff Lake Champlain. The forest was dark, mysterious. Through it,stealing on soft, moccasined feet, went Johnnie and the cruel M
agua,following the trail of the fleeing and terrified longshoreman.
They caught him. They bound him. And now the _Hispaniola_ came intosight across the Lake, her sails full spread as she hurried to receiveher prisoner. Johnnie and Magua put Barber aboard. The latter pleadedearnestly, but no one listened. Again the ship set sail, bound for thatIsland which had yielded up its treasure to Captain Smollet's crew. Onthis Island, Big Tom was set down. And as the _Hispaniola_ set sail oncemore, her prow pointed homeward, Johnnie looked back to where thelongshoreman was kneeling, hands appealingly upraised, beside thosecertain three abandoned mutineers.
"And there y' stay," called Johnnie; "--for life!"