Contents

CHAPTER  1

The Adenville Academy 3

CHAPTER 2
Tom and the Wild Jackass 22

CHAPTER 3

The Train Robbery 46

CHAPTER 4

Tom and the Numbers Trick 61

CHAPTER 5

Tom the Magician 78

CHAPTER 6

Puppy Love 100

CHAPTER 7

The Wheel of Fortune lit)

CHAPTER 8

The Game of Outlaw and Posse 131

The Return of
The Great Brain

CHAPTER ONE

The Adenville Academy-

DURING THE FIRST WEEK of August in the year
1898 a trial was held in Adenville, Utah. The defendant was
my brother, Tom Fitzgerald, alias The Great Brain. He was
only twelve years old, but he was charged with being a con-
fidence man, a swindler, a crook, and a blackmailer. The
judge was Harold Vickers, who was sixteen. And I guess I
must have been the youngest district attorney to ever try a
case, because I was only ten years old.

I hated to put my brother on trial, but it was something
the kids in Adenville should have done a long time before
we did. Tom, with his great brain and his money-loving
heart had been swindling us kids since he was eight years

old. We had put up with it until that summer. He had
swindled Danny Forester out of his new baseball glove, Par-
ley Benson out of his new King air rifle, and a dozen other
kids including myself. But when Tom almost got my two
best friends killed to make thirty cents, I decided the only
way to make him give up his crooked ways was to put him on
trial in our barn-
If I do say so myself I presented a brilliant case, calling
one witness after another to testify The Great Brain had
swindled them. I wanted to take the witness stand myself be-
cause Tom had swindled and blackmailed me more than any
kid in town. But Judge Harold Vickers said I couldn't be
both a witness and the district attorney.

Tom was found guilty on all counts. Harold handed
down the sentence: No kid in Adenville would play with
The Great Brain or have anything to do with him for one
year. After Tom promised to reform, Harold suspended the
sentence. But he warned Tom that if my brother did any
backsliding he would revoke the suspended sentence.

There was great rejoicing all over town when the re-
sults of the trial became known. Papa, who was editor and
publisher of the Adenville Weekly Advocate, was so happy
he looked ten years younger. I guess that was because Tom's
past shenanigans had made him look ten years older. Now
he wouldn't have to worry about angry fathers coming into
his office to complain that Tom had cheated their sons out
of something.

Mamma was happy as a bee in its first spring flower-
Mothers of the boys my brother had swindled would no
longer be calling her on the telephone to tell her she had a
junior-grade confidence man for a son. My uncle, Mark
Trainor, who was the town marshal and a deputy sheriff, was

4

relieved because he would no longer have to explain why he
couldn't put Tom in jail. Tom, with his great brain, had
been so smart there never was enough evidence to arrest him.

The way people acted it was a wonder Mayor Calvin
Whitlock didn't declare a holiday to celebrate The Great
Brain's reformation. But for my money everybody was living
in a temporary fool's paradise. I didn't believe The Great
Brain could give up his crooked ways any more than a hen-
with a rooster around could stop laying eggs. But after a
whole week went by without Tom pulling one crooked stunt
I began to think maybe he really was going to reform. And
strangely enough I began to regret it. I had never realized
how dull things would be if Tom reformed. His crooked
deals and swindles made life exciting even when I was the
victim.

I was thinking about this one morning as I sat on the
log railing of our corral fence with Tom and our six-year-old
adopted brother, Frankie. Frankie's parents and brother had
been killed in a landslide when he was four. When Uncle
Mark couldn't locate any other relatives, Mamma and Papa
had adopted him. It was easy to see that Frankie wasn't our
real brother because he had the blackest, straightest hair of
any kid in town. I was a dead ringer for Papa with dark eyes
and dark curly hair. My oldest brother, Sweyn, who was
named after our maternal Danish grandfather, had blond
hair like Mamma. Tom didn't look like Mamma and Papa
unless you sort of put them together. He was the only one in
the family with freckles.

So there I was sitting on the corral fence that morning
wondering if I'd made a mistake putting Tom on trial and
making him reform.

"Going swimming this afternoon?" I asked.

"Sure, J.D.," Tom answered. "What made you ask such
a silly question?"

My brothers and I often called each other by our initials
because that was the way Papa usually addressed us- We all
had the same middle name of Dennis just like Papa because
it was a tradition in our family-

"I just wanted to see if they've started to grow yet," I
said.

"What are you talking about?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"You've been such a good little angel since you re-
formed," I said, "all you need are some wings."

"You were the one who got the kids to put me on trial
and make me promise to reform," Tom said. "Are you sorry
I have reformed?"

"You've become so goody-goody it makes me sick,"4 said.
"There is no fun and excitement any more."

"So," Tom said, "you want fun and excitement. In
other words, J.D., you are trying to make a backslider out
of me."

Frankie looked up at Tom- "What's a backslider?" he
asked-

"A backslider," Tom said, "is a person who promises to
reform and then doesn't keep his promise. But do you know
what is ten times worse than a backslider? I'll tell you. It is a
person who tries to get somebody who has promised to re-
form to backslide. And I'm afraid when I tell Papa and
Mamma about it that J.D. is going to find himself in hot
water."

"I'm not trying to make a backslider out of you," I
protested.

"Oh, yes, you are," Tom said. "And Frankie is my wit-
ness."

Frankie patted Tom on the knee. "Tom is good now,"
he said, "and you are trying to make him bad again."

"How right you are, Frankie," Tom said as he jumped
down from the corral fence. "I think we should let Mamma
and Papa know about this right away."

I jumped down from the fence. I knew it would cost me
at least a month's allowance if they told.

"How much do you want not to tell?" I asked.

"That proves it," Tom said. "If I ask you for anything
to make me keep silent that would be blackmail. You want
to make a blackmailer out of me just so you can make a back-
slider out of me."

"No, I don't," I protested. "I'm sorry I opened my big
mouth."

"Just being sorry isn't enough," Tom said. "You must
be punished for trying to make a backslider out of me,"

I knew he had me. "Name the punishment," I said.

"No," Tom said. "You must punish yourself."

"How can I punish myself?" I asked.

Tom looked up at Frankie who was still sitting on the
fence- "Know something, Frankie?" he said. "Mamma wants
the vegetable garden weeded tomorrow. One way J.D. could
punish himself would be to volunteer to weed the garden all
by himself."

It was a stiff price to pay for not having sense enough
to keep my big mouth shut. It would take me all day to weed
the garden without Tom's help. Mamma wouldn't let Frankie
help with the weeding because he didn't know the difference
between a weed and a vegetable,

"I'll punish myself," I said. "I'll weed the garden."

"All right," Tom said. "And to show you my heart is in
the right place, I'll do your share of the chores tomorrow."

He boosted Frankie down from the fence. "Let's go to
Smith's lot and play until lunch time," he said.

Mr. Smith let the kids use a vacant lot he owned on
Main Street in return for keeping it cleared of weeds. Main
Street was a very wide street like'in most Utah towns. It was
covered with a foot of gravel so it wouldn't get muddy when
it rained. There were electric light and telephone poles
down the middle of the street, and the sides were lined with
trees planted by early Mormon pioneers- The places of busi-
ness all had wooden sidewalks and hitching posts in front
of them. The railroad tracks separated the east side of town
from the west side.. Most of the places of business and practi-
cally all the homes were on the west side, including the
Advocate office and our home. East of the railroad tracks
there were two saloons, the Sheepmen's Hotel, the Palace
Cafe; a rooming house, a livery stable, and the campgrounds.

Adenville was an agricultural community surrounded by
farms and cattle and sheep ranches. It never got very cold in
the wintertime, and we seldom had snow because the town
was located in southwestern Utah. We had a population of
about two thousand Mormons, four hundred Protestants,
and only about a hundred of us Catholics. The Mormons had
a tabernacle and a Bishop because Adenville was what the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints called a ward.
There was no Protestant or Catholic church. We all went to
the Community Church where Reverend Holcomb preached
strictly from the Bible so he wouldn't show favoritism toward
any religion.

As Tom, Frankie, and I walked down Main Street to-


ward Smith's vacant lot I couldn't help feeling relieved that
Adenville had only a one-room schoolhouse, where Mr.
Standish taught the first through the sixth grades. Any par-
ents wanting their kids to get a higher education had to
send them to Provo or Salt Lake City. In just two weeks
Tom would be leaving for his second year at the Catholic
Academy for Boys in Salt Lake City. He would be in the
eighth grade this year although he was only twelve. Tom
with his great brain had been so smart that Mr. Standish had
let him skip the fifth grade. My brother Sweyn had already
graduated from the Academy, where only the seventh and
eighth grades were taught. Papa was sending Sweyn to live
with relatives in Boylestown, Pennsylvania, where he would
go to high school.

If I could just keep my big mouth shut for two weeks I
wouldn't have to worry about Tom making me the victim of
his great brain and money-loving heart. I knew he hadn't
really reformed when he blackmailed me into weeding the
garden. I also knew it would break Mamma's and Papa's
hearts if they found out Tom was backsliding. And I had a
feeling that Tom wasn't worried about the suspended sen-
tence, He would be going away for nine months and prob-
ably figured the kids would forget all about the trial by the
following summer.

When we arrived at the lot there were about twenty kids
playing catch, batting fly balls, playing leapfrog, broad jump-
ing, and playing other games. We joined in until it was time
to go home for lunch.

That evening after the supper dishes were washed and
put away the whole family was sitting in the parlor. Aunt
Bertha was sitting on the couch darning socks. She wasn't

really our aunt. She had come to live with us after her hus-
band died because she didn't have any place to go. She was
in her sixties, with hands and feet as big as a man's. Mamma
was sitting in her maple rocking chair knitting. Frankie,
Tom, and I were sitting on the floor in front of the stone
fireplace playing dominoes. Sweyn was reading a book-
Mamma looked up from her knitting with a sort of sad ex-
pression on her face.

"I was just thinking, dear," she said to Papa, "with two
.of our boys going away to school soon we haven't many more
evenings to spend together as a family."

"That reminds me," Papa said. "Everything is arranged
for Sweyn to go back east. But next week I must remember
to send Father Rodriguez a check for two hundred and
twenty-five dollars to enroll Tom for the school year at the
Catholic Academy."

"I wish we had an academy right here in Adenville,"
Mamma said.

"Few if any towns this size in Utah have more than a
common school with six grades," Papa said. "There just
aren't enough parents who want their children to get more
than a sixth grade education, especially in an agricultural
community like Adenville. Many farmers believe you don't
need more than a sixth grade education to run a farm. Take
Adenville—not more than a dozen boys and girls are sent to
academies or high schools each year."

"I think a lot of parents would like their children to
get a higher education, but they just can't afford it," Mamma
said.

"Two hundred to two hundred and fifty dollars for a
school year is a lot of money," Papa said. "That is what the

10

Mormon, Protestant, and Catholic boarding school academies
charge."

"It just isn't fair for a boy like Sammy Leeds," Mamma
said. "He has been working now for over a year on the" soda
fountain at the drugstore. Mr. Nicholson told me the boy
wants to become a pharmacist more than anything in this
world. But he hasn't got a chance because Mr. and Mrs.
Leeds can't afford to send him to an academy."

Papa appeared puzzled. "It takes more than an eighth
grade education to become a pharmacist," he said.

"I know," Mamma said. "But Mr. Nicholson said that if
Sammy had an eighth grade education he could get the boy
a job working part time in a drugstore in Provo. By working
there part time during the school year and full time here in
Adenville during summer vacation, Sammy would be able to
put himself through high school. Then Mr. Nicholson would
help him prepare for the junior pharmacist state board ex-
amination. Instead Sammy Leeds will never be anything
better than a soda fountain clerk."

"I see what you mean," Papa said. "By the time the boy
saved enough money working for Mr. Nicholson to go to an
academy, he would be so old that he would be ashamed to
go. It would take him several years."

"The Leeds boy isn't the only one in this town to
suffer," Mamma said. "I was talking to Mrs. Smith at the
Ladies Sewing Circle meeting last week. I mentioned
Sweyn D. and Tom D. would be leaving for school soon. She
said that she and her husband had tried every way they
could to send their son Seth to an academy but just couldn't

make it."

"So that is why he tried to sell that vacant lot where the

11

kids play," Papa said. "He put an ad in the Advocate but
told me the best offer he received was a hundred and twenty-
five dollars."

"It meant so much to them," Mamma said, "because Mr.
Wilson told them he would hire Seth as a clerk in his hay,
grain, and feed store if he got an eighth grade education. In-
stead the boy will no doubt end up working at some menial
job like his rather. It just isn't fair."

"I wonder," Papa said, "how many boys and girls there
are in town like Sammy Leeds and Seth Smith who are being
deprived of making something of themselves because we
don't have an academy here in Adenville." Then he leaned
forward in his chair and spoke to Tom. "T.D.," he said,
"how many boys do you know like Sammy and Seth who
would like to get a higher education but whose parents can't
afford it?"

Tom looked up from the domino game which he was
winning easily. "A few," he said. "For one, Parley Benson.
He wants to become a veterinary. He's always hanging
around old Doc Stone and bringing the vet any animals he
finds who need help. Doc Stone said that if Parley went
through the eighth grade he'd take him on as an apprentice
and make a veterinary out of him. But Parley told me his
folks can't afford to send him away to school. I guess he'll
end up a bounty hunter like his father, and that is going to
be tough on him because he loves all animals."

Papa leaned back in his rocking chair. "You and your
mother have given me an idea," he said. "The way things
are, parents who can afford it send their children away to
Mormon, Protestant, and Catholic boarding school acad-
emies. But if we had a nondenominational academy right
here in Adenville they would enroll their children in it. And

12

there must be quite a few people like the parents of Seth
Smith, Sammy Leeds, and Parley Benson who can't afford to
send their children away to school but who could afford a
tuition of thirty or forty dollars at an academy here in town.
Add these students to the do/en or so who would otherwise
be sent away to school and the tuition money would pay for
a teacher."

Mamma shook her head. "That still leaves an academy
to be built," she said.

Did that stop Papa? Heck no. He had an answer for
everything.

"I'm sure, Tena," he said, "there are enough public-
spirited citizens who would donate the money, material, and
labor to build an academy if they knew for certain we could
enroll about thirty students. I'll see Mayor Whitlock first
thing in the morning and then talk to Bishop A^ien and the
Reverend Holcomb. This will have tor be a united effort of

Mormons, Protestants, and Catholics."

h.

The next morning during breakfast Mamma reminded
Tom and me that she wanted the vegetable garden weeded.

"I'm going to weed the garden myself," I said, "and
Tom is going to do my share of the chores."

Papa stared at me as if I had a cabbage for a head and
then looked with suspicion at Tom.

"Just how did you connive your brother into weeding
the garden in exchange for doing his share of the chores?"
he demanded. "If I catch you backsliding you are going to
regret it."

"Who is backsliding?" Tom asked looking as innocent
as a little baby. "J.D. told me yesterday that he wanted to
weed the garden to punish himself. Out of the goodness of

13

my heart I told him that I would do his share of the chores."

"Punish himself for what?" Papa asked.

I was afraid Tom would tell and get me into more
trouble than himself. "I did something that I shouldn't have
done," I said. "I'm so ashamed that I want to punish myself
for doing it."

Mamma looked at Papa. "Maybe he broke a neighbor's
window playing ball or something," she said.

"No, I didn't," I said.

"Then what did you do?" Mamma asked.

"I can't tell you because it's personal," I said.

Papa saved me. "Let's respect the boy's privacy," he
said, "as long as we know he wasn't forced into weeding the
garden byT.D."

Boy, oh, boy, that brother of mine was something. He
looked Papa right in the eye.

"You don't have to say it, Papa," Tom said. "I know you
are sorry you accused me of backsliding, and I accept your
apology."

I began weeding the garden after breakfast while Tom
and Frankie did the chores. When they finished, Tom sad-
dled up Sweyn's mustang, Dusty, and went for a ride. Eddie
Huddle came over to play with Frankie- They started pitch-
ing horseshoes- I could hear them yelling and laughing and
having fun as I pulled weeds. Oh, to be a little kid again, I
thought, too little to know the difference between a weed
and a vegetable.

Howard Kay and Jimmie Peterson came into the back
yard as I stood up to relieve my aching back. Howard had a
disappointed look on his pumpkin face. Jimmie hitched up
his pants, which were too big for him. He didn't have any
younger brothers to wear his hand-me-downs, so his mother

14




always bought him clothing that; was one size too big.

"You told us to come over and play basketball this
morning," Jimmie said.

For Christmas I'd been given the first basketball and
backboard anybody in Adenville had ever seen. Papa had
nailed the backboard to our coal and wood shed on the
alley side-

"I forgot I had to weed the garden," I said.

"Shucks," Howard said.

Then I got a brilliant idea. "Help me weed the garden,"
I said, "and then we'll play."

Jimmie hitched up his pants again. "If we help you
weed your garden will you help us weed our gardens?" he
asked.

It wasn't such a brilliant idea after all. Jimmie's mother
ran a boardinghouse and had a vegetable garden three times
as big as ours.

"Forget it," I said. "The basketball is in the coal and
wood shed."

By this time more kids were coming down the alley. In
a few minutes I could hear the happy shouts of kids playing
basketball and of Frankie and Eddie playing horseshoes. But
there were no happy shouts tor me. I was just a slave doomed
to pull weeds while other kids had fun. And that afternoon
while other kids were swimming in the nice cool river, I was
still pulling weeds in the hot sun, my shirt wringing wet with
sweat. Instead of happy shouts there were only groans com-
ing from my lips because of my aching back.

The next day was Sunday. Bishop Aden announced dur-
ing church services that there would be a town meeting in
the Town Hall on Monday evening at eight o'clock. Rever-

16

end Holcomb made the same announcement at the Com-
munity Church. That afternoon Papa and Sweyn went to
the Advocate oflue and printed handbills urging all adult
citizens to attend the meeting. Monday morning Tom and I
tacked tlie handbills to trees and light posts and put them in
store windows on the east and west sides of town. For my
money if anyone didn't know about the town meeting he had
to be deaf, dumb, and blind.

Only adults were admitted to the meeting, but Papa
told us about it during breakfast on Tuesday morning. The
parents of thirty-three boys and girls had promised to enroll
them at the Academy and pay a tuition fee of from thirty to
forty dollars.

Papa told the audience the tuition money was just to pay
a teacher's salary, and he called for donations to build and
furnish the Academy. He began the donations by pledging
five hundred dollars. Then Bishop Aden pledged the Church
of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints would donate the land
upon which to build the Academy and alsw pledged one
thousand dollars. Mayor Whitlock, who was also president of
the Adenville Bank, pledged five hundred dollars. Mr.
Monaire, a big sheep rancher, pledged five hundred- I guess
Mr. Pearson, who was a big cattle rancher, didn't want a
sheepman outdoing a cattleman and he pledged five hun-
dred. Mr. Daniels, the owner of the Fairplay Saloon, and Mr.
Harper of the Whitehorse Saloon each gave five hundred
dollars. And there were quite a few people who pledged from
ten to one hundred dollars, and just about every able-bodied
man in town volunteered to work for nothing to help build
the school. Mayor Whitlock then made a motion that one
Mormon, one Catholic, and one Protestant be elected as a
board of directors to run the Academy. Bishop Aden, Papa,

17

and Mayor Whitlock were elected. Mayor Whitlock became
the chairman of the board of directors, Bishop Aden the
treasurer, and Papa the secretary. Papa said Bishop Aden
was leaving for Salt Lake City the next day to order the
furniture, books, and school supplies, and also to arrange to
hire a teacher,

"And." Papa said as he finished, "Mr. Jamison is work-
ing on blueprints for the building, and construction will
start tomorrow." Then he looked across the table at Tom-
"So, T.D., you won't be going to the Catholic Academy in
Salt Lake City after all."

Tom had a funny expression on his face. I couldn't tell
if he was disappointed or happy about it-

"Can they have the Academy ready by the time school
starts?" he asked.

"Definitely," Papa said. "School won't start this year
until Monday, September the fifth."

Mamma was smiling. "It is going to be wonderful hav-
ing Tom D. home," she said to Papa.

Papa nodded. "After all the trouble he got into at the
Jesuit Academy in Salt Lake City last year," he said, "it is
going to be a relief having him where we can keep an eye on
him."

All I can say is that for my money Papa had better keep
a sharp eye on The Great Brain.

I'd seen many bees, as they were called in those days-
We had barn-raising bees and house-raising bees where
neighbors and friends pitched in to help a newly married
couple build a house or barn. And we had corn-husking bees
where friends and neighbors helped harvest corn, and any

18

fellow who found a red ear of corn got to kiss the girl of his
choice. We had a church-raising bee when the Community
Church was built. But I'd never seen one like the Academy-
raising bee.

It began on Wednesday morning. All the kids in town
were on hand to watch after doing their morning chores. Mr.
Jamison, the town's best carpenter and contractor, was boss-
ing the job. Men were digging the trench for the foundation
when we arrived. Women were spreading two picnic tables
with baked beans, baked ham, fried chicken, bread and
butter sandwiches, pies, cakes, and other good things to
eat- Some Mormon women arrived with lemonade, cider,
and cold milk in crocks. Mr. Daniels, the proprietor of the
Fairplay Saloon, delivered a keg of beer, and so did Mr.
Harper of the Whitehorse Saloon.

By noon the trench for the foundation of the building
had been dug and some of the wooden forms for the concrete
completed. The men working stopped to eat .and drink, but
only their wives and children could remain and eat after the
men did. We had to go home for lunch. Just before we left,
wagonloads of gravel and cement began to arrive.

Papa told us during lunch that he would be working on
the Academy during the afternoon. "Mr. Jamison has de-
cided to use two crews," he said, "one in the morning and a
different one in the afternoon because so many men volun-
teered to help."

The Advocate office wasn't the only place of business
that had a sign reading, CLOSED AT NOON—WORKING ON THE
ACADEMY, that afternoon. I saw the same sign on several places
of business.

Mr. Jamison was ready to start pouring concrete for the

19

foundation when we arrived. Papa and Danny's father, Mr.
Forester, were given long sticks that Mr. Jamison called
puddlers.

Frankie pointed at Papa. "Why is Papa pushing the stick
up and down in the concrete?" he asked.

"To get the air out of the concrete so there won't be any
air bubbles," Tom said, "and to help settle the concrete."

There was food for the afternoon crew too, and two
more kegs of beer arrived from the saloons. That was one
afternoon when not one kid in town went swimming. We
watched until the last wheelbarrow of concrete had been
poured for the foundation.

Papa told us during supper that it would take all night
and all the next day and night for the concrete to cure.

Frankie looked at him. "Is the concrete sick?" he asked-

"No," Papa said, laughing. "To cure concrete means to
wait for it to dry and harden."

The next morning Mr. Jamison was using only men
with saws. They cut two-by-fours into studs, joists, and rafters
until noon. There was nothing more that could be done on
the Academy until the next morning when the forms on
the concrete foundation could be removed. We watched the
men begin building the frame for the Academy the next
morning but went swimming that afternoon.

Fellows like Parley, Sammy, and Seth were very happy
for the opportunity to get a seventh and eighth gr-.de educa-
tion. But it sure as heck made a few kids unhappy. Take a
fellow like Danny Forester.

"I'm going to be a barber like my father," he told us
at the swimming hole that afternoon. "My folks think I
ought to get an education now that there's an academy right
here in Adenville. But who needs more than a sixth grade

20

education to learn how to give shaves and haircuts?"

Even Tom with his great brain couldn't answer that
one.

I know it sounds silly, but I felt both happy and sad
about the Academy. I was sad knowing Tom would black-
mail and swindle me every chance he got instead of being at
the Academy in Salt Lake City. I was unhappy knowing he
had not really reformed and that sooner or later he would be
caught swindling somebody who would tell. That would not
only break Papa's and Mamma's hearts but also revoke his
suspended sentence, and none of the fellows would have any-
thing to do with him. I was happy knowing fellows like
Parley, Seth, and Sammy would have a chance to make some-
thing of themselves. And I guess I was happy knowing Tom
would remain at home, because with all his faults I loved
him.

I asked Tom how he felt about the Academy as we
walked home from the swimming hole with-Frankie.

"I'm going to miss the good friends I made at the Jesuit
Academy," he said. "But when I think of how strict the
Jesuit priests were, I thank my lucky stars I'm not going
back."

"Well," I said, "you had better keep your nose clean
around here or Papa will send you back."

Tom seemed unconcerned. "With my great brain," he
said, "I'll always be one step ahead of Papa and everybody
else around here."

21

CHAPTER TWO

Tom and the Wild Jackass

MONDAY MORNING Just a week before school was
due to begin I went to Smith's vacant lot with Tom and
Frankie to play. We were surprised to see only one kid
there. My friend Howard Kay came running to meet us with
an excited look on his pumpkin face.

"I waited for you," he shouted.

"Where are all the fellows?" Tom asked.

"At Parley's place," Howard said. "His father brought
home three wild mares and a wild jackass last night Mr.
Benson is going to break the mares this morning."

Parley's father was a wild animal bounty hunter. When-
ever cattlemen and sheepmen began losing livestock to wild

22

animals they sent for Mr. Benson. He hunted down wolves,
coyotes, mountain lions, and other wild animals that killed
livestock. The ranchers paid him a bounty for each one he
killed.

He had never bothered to capture wild horses before the
1890s. Thousands of wild horses roamed throughout the
west during the 1800s, but it cost more to capture and
break them than they were worth. But with the beginning
of the Boer War the British government sent agents to the
western states looking for horses to ship to South Africa. A
sound animal broken to the saddle brought as much as forty
dollars. This caused a shortage of work horses, roping horses,
cutting horses, riding horses, and brood mares among the
ranchers. Mr. Benson sold the wild stallions and mares he
caught to the ranchers after breaking them. Us kids always
hoped Mr. Benson would bring back mustangs because they
were the hardest of all wild horses to break. They lived up
to their Spanish name, which means "running wild."

The Bensons lived just inside the town limits. They
had a big barn and corral in back of their house with a
pasture beyond. There were about twenty kids sitting on the
log railing of the pasture fence when we arrived. The wild
mares were running around in the pasture trying to find a
way out. The wild jackass was standing in the middle of the
pasture. He sure didn't look wild to me. He looked as if he
were asleep. He was a male which made him a Jackass. The
female burro is called a jennet or a jenny. Mr. Benson's big
roan gelding, two pack mules, team of horses, and milk cow
were grazing in the pasture not paying any attention to the
wild mares or the jackass.

We climbed up on the fence and sat by Parley. He was
wearing his coonskin cap that he would never take off

23

w

outside unless he was about to go in swimming.

Tom stared at the burro. "Why did your father capture
a wild jackass?" he asked.

"He didn't capture him," Parley said. "After Pa got the
lead ropes on the three wild mares and started for home
that jackass followed him. Pa reckons as how one of the mares
could be his mate. The only way you get a mule is to breed
a jackass to a horse mare."

"I know that," Tom said as if his great brain had been
insulted. "How old is the jackass?"

"Pa figures about tour years old," Parley answered.

"What is your father going to do with him?" Tom
asked.

"He said I could have the jackass if I gentled him,"
Parley said.

"I know how you break a horse," Tom said. "But how
do you gentle a jackass?"

"Same as a horse," Parley said. "Pa says all I've got to do
is ride him and break his spirit and prove I'm the boss. Then
it will be easy to break him to pack saddle and harness."

"You've got one of the best saddle ponies in town," Tom
said. "You sure aren't going to be seen riding around on a
dumb old jackass."

"Shucks, no," Parley said as he pushed his coonskin cap
to the back of his head. "I'll sell him to a prospector or a
trapper after I gentle him."

"When are you going to gentle him?" Tom asked.

"This afternoon," Parley answered.

Mr. Benson came to the pasture. He was a clean-shaven
man with skin as tanned as the leather chaps he was wearing.
He was wearing California spurs with two-inch rowels,

24




which he used when breaking horses. We watched him lasso
one of the wild mares with a leather lariat- He led the mare
to the corral with all us kids following him. Parley helped
his father get a bridle and saddle on the mare. He ran for the
fence as Mr. Benson mounted the mare. She stood still,
trembling, for a few seconds and then began to buck. But
no wild mare can buck like a wild stallion. She only bucked
for about two or three minutes and then gave up. Mr. Ben-
son rode the mare around the corral a few times and then
rode her back to the pasture. The other two mares were just
as easy to gentle, so easy that Mr. Benson apologized to us.

"Sorry, boys," he said. "It wasn't much of a show. But
maybe next time I'll get some wild stallions instead of mares."

Parley told us his father was leaving right after lunch to
take the three mares to Pete Gunderson's ranch to sell and
would stay at the ranch to do some bounty hunting.

"Don't try to gentle that wild jackass until we get here,"
Tom told Parley.

None of the kids went swimming that afternoon. We
all went to watch Parley gentle the wild jackass. He had
a halter on the burro in the corral when Tom, Frankie, and

I arrived.

"Help me get a bridle on Chalky," Parley said to Tom.

"Chalky?" Tom asked.
"I named him Chalky because he is the color of chalk

cliffs," Parley said.

They tried to get a bridle on the jackass, but Chalky
refused to open his mouth and take the bit. Then they tried
Parley's Morgan saddle on Chalky, but it was too big.

"I'll ride him bareback with just the halter," Parley said.

25

Tom shook his head. "At least put a girth around him
to hold on to," he said-

They joined the girth from Parley's saddle to an extra
strong girth Mr. Benson used for breaking horses. Tom held
Chalky by the halter and one ear while Parley put the girth
around the burro and tightened it. Then Tom handed Parley
the rein rope of the braided rope halter and ran to climb on
the top railing of the corral fence.

Parley jumped on Chalky's back holding the rein rope
in his left hand and grabbing hold of the girth with his right
hand. That wild Jackass began to buck as if he were a wild
mustang. He pitched Parley off his back in about ten
seconds. He continued to buck for a couple of minutes. Then
he stopped and looked at Parley who had run for the pro-
tection of the fence. And I'll be a six-legged jackass myself
if Chalky didn't let go with a loud, "Hee haw," as if he were
giving Parley the raspberry.

Danny Forester cupped his hands to his mouth. "Some
broncobuster," he shouted. "Can't even ride a little burro!"

Parley went back inside the corral. He picked up his
coonskin cap that he'd lost when he was bucked off. He
walked up to Chalky with a- determined look on his face,
took the rein rope in his left hand, and grabbing the girth
with his right hand, jumped on the jackass's back.

"Ride 'em, cowboy!" all of us kids watching began to
yell.

We only got to yell, "Ride 'em, cowboy!" for about
fifteen seconds before that wild jackass pitched Parley off
his back. Parley got up limping. Some of the kids began
giving him the raspberry as he walked to the fence. Then all
the kids began laughing as Chalky let go with another loud,

26







"Hee haw." Parley's face turned red with embarrassment and
anger.

"If you fellows think it's so funny," he said, "let me see
you ride Chalky."

There were no volunteers.

"Are you all scared of a little burro?" Parley asked.

That was enough to make Tom. Basil Kokovinis, Danny
Forester, and Seth Smith try to ride the wild jackass. He
bucked them all off his back quicker than he had Parley.
And he gave each one of them a loud, "Hee haw," after
doing it, as if to let them know a dumb old jackass was
smarter than a bunch of kids. We all sat on the corral fence
staring at Chalky, who looked as if he were going to sleep.
Finally Parley spoke.

"Pa says you have to ride them to break their spirit be-
fore you can break them to pack saddle and harness," he
said. "Nobody can gentle that wild jackass. When Pa gets
back I'm going to tell him to take Chalky back to Wild
Horse Canyon and turn him loose."

"Don't give up so easy," Tom said.

"Who wouldn't give up?" Parley answered.

"I wouldn't," Tom said.

"Is that so?" Parley said. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll give
that jackass to anybody who can ride him before Pa gets
back."

Tom stared at Parley. "Do you really mean that?" he
asked.

"Pa sure as heck ain't going to let me keep a jackass
that I can't gentle and sell." Parley answered. "And I know
if I can't ride him no kid in this town can ride him."

Parley wasn't boasting. Maybe he wasn't a broncobuster,
but he could ride a horse better than any of the fellows. And

28

with his pony. Blaze, he had won the trick-riding contest for
kids his age at the county fair three years in a row.

That evening after supper as the family sat in the parlor
Tom was quiet. Finally he spoke.

"Papa," he said, "how much is a male burro worth?"
"Not much," I said before Papa could answer. "Who

would want a dumb old jackass?"

Papa dropped the magazine he was reading. "The ques-
tion was addressed to me." he reprimanded me. "However,
for your information, J.D., a burro is a lot smarter than a
horse, as any prospector or trapper will tell you. If his load
is too heavy, a burro will refuse to move until you lighten it.
But a pack horse or mule will carry a load that he knows is
too heavy for him. When a burro feels he has put in a day's
work he will stop working and there isn't anything you can
do to make him continue. But a horse will go on working
until he drops from exhaustion if you make him. When the
weather is hot a burro will slow down his pace and nothing
can make him move any faster. But a horse will keep going
at any pace you want him to go regardless of how hot it is."

Papa then looked at Tom. "To get back to your ques-
tion," he said, "years ago during the gold and silver mining
boom a burro was worth more than a horse because so many
prospectors used them. But prospectors are few and far be-
tween today. I have noticed, however, that some trappers at
the campgrounds prefer a burro to a pack mule or pack
horse. But I doubt if you could get more than five dollars

for one. Why do you ask?"

"Parley Benson has a wild jackass his father brought
home," Tom said. "Parley said he would give the jackass to
anybody who can ride him."

29

"I'm sure," Papa said, "that if Parley Benson can't ride
that jackass you can't."

"Maybe my great brain can figure out a way to gentle
that wild jackass," Tom said.

"Well just make certain you do it honestly," Papa said.
"I don't want any backsliding out of you."

The next morning after chores Tom said he was going to
talk to Mr. Blake who worked in Jerry Stout's saddle and
harness shop. Mr. Blake had been a wild horse wrangler until
a horse he was breaking fell on him leaving him too crippled
to ride horses again. Mamma wanted me to run an errand to
the store so I didn't go with Tom.

I was sitting on the back porch steps watching Frankie
and Eddie Huddle play marbles when Tom returned.

"Why did you want to see Mr. Blake?" I asked as Tom
sat down beside me.

"To find out if there was any other way to gentle a
wild horse than trying to ride him," Tom answered. "Mr.
Blake said the quickest and easiest way was to ride the
horse and let him know you were his master by breaking his
spirit. But there are two other ways. He said there are some
wild mustangs and stallions who are such good bucking
broncos that nobody can ride them. The only way to break
their spirit is to put the horse in a stall and tie him so he
can't buck. Then put heavy bags of dirt on the horse's back
and beat him until you break his spirit."

"Boy, oh, boy," I said, "you wouldn't do that to a poor
old jackass would you?"

"Of course not," Tom said as if I'd insulted him. "I'll
use the third way and that is to make friends with the horse.
Mr. Blake said if you let a wild horse know you are his friend

30

and get him to like you, he will let you ride him without

bucking."

"For my money," I said, "that wild jackass is too dumb
to know he has any spirit to be broken and too stupid to
know what a friend is."

"If my great brain can't figure out. a way to make Chalky
like me," Tom said, "I'll trade places with that jackass."

"Mamma and Papa wouldn't like it." I said.

"Like what?" Tom asked.

"Having Chalky living in our house," I said, "and you
living in the Benson pasture." I thought that was very funny

but Tom didn't even smile.

"I'm going up to my loft in the barn," he said. "and
put my great brain to work on how to gentle Chalky."

Tom's great brain must have been working like sixty.
He told me when he came down from the loft for lunch that
he had a plan to gentle Chalky. He wouldn't tell me what the
plan was until after lunch. Then he got some cubes of sugar
from the kitchen and put them in his pocket. Frankie and I
followed him into the backyard. He pulled up a bunch of
carrots from the vegetable garden and washed them oft under
the hydrant. He laid them on the back porch to dry. Then
he went into the house and got a brown paper bag.

"What's the idea?" I asked when he came to the porch.
"I want you and Frankie to go to Smith's vacant lot and
go swimming with the fellows as usual," Tom said. "If they
ask you where I am, tell them I'll be a little late getting to
the swimming hole this week. Tell them .Sweyn is leaving
tomorrow to go back east to school and I have to start helping

Papa at the Advocate."

"But Papa said he would only need you when he has a
big printing job," I said. "He doesn't want anything to

31

interfere with your school work when school starts Monday."

"So what?" Tom asked as it I was dumber than Chalky.
"You won't be telling a lie if you tell them I have to start
helping Papa at the Advocate."

"I'll tell the fellows," I said. "But I am also going to tell
them that Frankie and I are going to wait for you. I want to
be with you when you try to gentle Chalky."

"All right," Tom said, "but mum's the word for any-
thing you see me do, and that goes for you too Frankie."

Frankie shook his head. "Nope," he said. "Eddie is com-
ing over and I want to go swimming."

"We'll take you and Eddie swimming as soon as we get
back," Tom said. "Now, J.D., go to Smith's vacant lot and tell
the felloivs. And make sure you wait until Parley is there."

I rode my bike toward Smith's vacant lot. I couldn't see
anything wrong in helping Tom try to gentle the wild jack-
ass. Parley had said he was going to have his father take
Chalky back to Wild Horse Canyon and cum the jackass
loose. And Parley had said anybody who could ride the jack-
ass before his father returned'could have Chalky. Either way
Parley would have to give up the jackass. What difference
did it make if Chalky was turned loose or Tom won him?
There sure as heck wasn't anything dishonest in Tom's trying
to gentle Chalky.

Parley and about fifteen other kids were at Smith's
vacant lot when I arrived. I told them that Tom, Frankie,
and I would be a little late and the reason why. But riding
my bike back home my conscience bothered me a little. I'd
told Parley and the other fellows a lie. Tom was waiting with
the carrots in a paper bag when I returned,

"We'll walk," he said to me after telling Frankie and
Eddie to wait for us.

32

We took a roundabout way to get to the Benson pasture
so the kids at Smith's vacant lot couldn't see us. We didn't
have to worry about Mrs. Benson seeing us because their big
barn hid us from her backyard and home.

"You hide over there behind that tree," Tom said, "so
Chalky won't notice you."

I did as he told me and then peeked around the trunk
of the tree. Tom walked to the north end of the pasture. He
climbed through the log rail fence and walked to the center
of the pasture where Chalky was standing. I saw him reach
into his pocket with his right hand while he held the bunch
of carrots in his left hand. Then he held a cube of sugar un-
der the jackass's mouth- Chalky's ears stood straight up as
he nibbled the sugar cube from the palm of Tom's hand. I
watched my brother feed Chalky three more cubes of sugar.
Then Tom took half of the bunch of carrots and fed them to
the jackass. When Chalky finished eating the carrots Tom
held the other half in front of him and began walking toward
the north side of the pasture fence. Again Chalky's ears stood
up straight and he began following my brother. When Tom
reached the fence he put the carrots on the ground for Chalky
to eat. He patted the wild jackass on the neck and Chalky
didn't seem to mind.

The next morning the whole family went down to the
depot to see Sweyn off for Boylestown, Pennsylvania. Mamma
didn't start to cry until the train was pulling out.

"It is so far away," she cried.

Papa put his arm around her shoulders. "Take comfort
in knowing, dear," he said, "that because of the Adenville
Academy we will have two of our sons and our adopted son
home."

33

"But next year we will only have John D. and Frankie,"
Mamma said.

Thai afternoon I again went with Tom to the Benson
pasture to watcli from behind the tree. This time Tom left
half the carrots by the north pasture fence- He fed Chalky
lumps of sugar and then half the carrots. Then he took hold
of the jackass's short mane. At first Chalky wouldn't move.
Tom kept talking to the burro and finally Chalky let my
biother lead him to the pasture fence where the other half
of the carrots were.

Thursday afternoon we went back to the Ben&on pasture-
Again Tom left half the carrots by the fence. Then he walked
to the center of the pasture. He fed Chalky some cubes of
sugar. Then, while Chalky was eating the carrots, Tom
climbed on the burro's back. I watched Chalky's ears go flat
back and thought for sure he would start to buck. But lie
didn't. He turned and looked at Tom and then continued
eating. When he'd finished the carrots Chalky turned his
head again to look at Tom, who was patting him on the neck
and talking to him. I know Chalky couldn't understand what
Tom was saying, but he must have remembered there were
more carrots by the fence. He began to walk toward the
north side of the pasture with Tom on his back. He found
the carrots by the fence. While he was eating them Tom got
oft Clialky and after patting the burro on the neck and talk-
ing to him climbed through the fence and joined me.

"Your great brain did it," I said when we met.

"Chalky knows I'm his friend now and likes me," Tom
said, "and tomorrow morning he will be all mine,"

Later that afternoon we were sitting on the river bank
at the swimming hole resting between swimming and diving

34

when Danny and Parley sat down beside us.

"How is that wild jackass of yours?" Tom asked.

"As wild as ever," Parley said. "I tried riding him again
Tuesday morning but he bucked me off twice."

"I'd like to take another crack at riding Chalky before
your father gets back," Tom said. "How about tomorrow
morning?"

Parley jumped to his feet and cupped his hands to his
mouth. "Hey, all you kids!" he shouted. "Come over here!"

He waited until the fellows on the river bank and those
who had been swimming were crowded around him.

"You are all invited to see The Great Brain dumped on
his behind tomorrow morning," Parley said grinning- ,'He
wants to try and ride Chalky again."       •*

"I'll ride him," Tom said. "And when I do Chalky be-
longs to me. That was the deal you made."

Danny had something the matter with his left eyelid
which was always half closed unless he was angry or excited.
It flipped wide open as he stared at Tom.

"I'll bet you can't ride that wild jackass," he said.

Right away several other kids, including Parley, wanted
to bet.

Tom shook his head. "You fellows know I can't bet any
more now that I'm reformed," he said.

"But the other bets you made were all swindles," Parley
said. "This can't be a swindle because there is no way your
great brain could talk a wild jackass into letting you ride him.
And if I can't ride Chalky I know darn well that you can't."

"I don't want to bet," Tom said.

Danny rammed a finger into Tom's chest. "You are
afraid to bet because you know you will lose," he said.

"Wrong." Tom said. "I don't want to bet because I

35

know I'll win. You see, Danny, I know I can ride Chalky."

Parley spat. "What a sneaky way to get out of betting,"
he said.

"But I know I can ride Chalky," Tom said.

"And we are betting you can't," Parley said-

I figured it was up to me to stop Tom from swindling
the fellows and backsliding. He would probably be very
angry about it, but it was something I had to do.

"Don't bet, fellows," I said. "Tom can ride Chalky and
when he does you'll lose your money and say you were
swindled."

Danny pointed at me. "Now he has even got John try-
ing to help him weasel out of betting," he said.

"Yeah," Parley said. "John knows Tom can't ride
Chalky and is trying to save him."

"But I tell you he can," I protested.

"And we all say he can't," Parley said.

"Leave my brother out of this," Tom said. "If you fel-
lows stiil want to bet tomorrow morning bring your money
with you. I'll cover all bets."

I.ater as I walked toward home from the swimming hole
I expected Tom to really be angry, but he didn't say any-
thing.

"I was only trying to stop you from backsliding," I
finally said. "You know you can ride Chalky. And when you
do the fellows will claim it was a swindle and not have any-
thing to do with you."

"I'm glad you said what you did," Tom said to my sur-
prise. "It will make it even easier to prove it wasn't a
swindle."

"For my money," I said, "it is an out and out swindle."

"Then your money must be counterfeit," Tom said.

36

We stopped at the Academy on our way home. The
building was finished. Desks for the students and for the
teacher were being carried into the building. We walked over
and looked inside. Men were fastening the students* desks to
the floor in the big classroom with screws. Papa was right.
The Academy would be all finished before it was time for
school to start.

The next morning after chores Tom dug up a bunch of
carrots from our garden. He washed them off under the
hydrant and swung them around to dry before putting them
into a paper bag.

"Now, J.D.," he said, "I want you to help me teach those
smarty pants a lesson. I'll go to the Benson corral and tell
the fellows you had to run an errand. You sneak down to the
north side of the pasture and put these carrots in the same
spot by the fence where I put the others."

"No," I said. "Maybe I can't stop you from backsliding,
but I'm not going to help you swindle the fellows."

"Not even for a quarter?" Tom asked.

"Not even for a dollar," I said.

"Suit yourself," Tom said. "I've plenty of time to do it
myself."

I watched Tom leave knowing he was smart enough to
plant the carrots without being seen by anybody. After what
happened at the swimming hole the day before I knew it
wouldn't do any good to tell the fellows not to bet. I went to
the Benson corral with Frankie. There were about twenty
kids there when we arrived.

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
"Where's Tom?" he asked. "Did he back out?"

"He'll be along," I said.

37

Tom arrived a few minutes later. He had a notebook, a
pencil, and a paper bag. He told all the kids who wanted to
make bets to line up. He wrote down the name of each fellow
and the amount of his bet in the notebook. Then he made
everyone put the money they had bet in the paper bag, which
he covered with cash from his own pocket. He looked hap-
pier than I'd ever seen him since he'd reformed. I guess just
getting back into action swindling kids was making his
money-loving heart beat with joy. After all bets were made
Tom handed me the notebook, pencil, and paper bag con-
taining the money.

"You hold the stakes, J.D.," he said. "The bet is that I
can't ride Chalky. And just to make it more interesting, I'm
going to ride him in the pasture where he has more room to
buck if he wants. And I'll ride him without the girth to hold
on to." He turned to Parley. "Lend me your halter."

"Boy!" Parley exclaimed. "If I'd known you were going
to try and ride Chalky without a girth I'd have bet fifty cents
instead of just a quarter."

"It isn't too late to change your bet," Tom said.
"I ain't got any more spending money," Parley said.
Tom looked at the other kids. "Anybody want to raise
their bet?" he asked. "I'm riding Chalky without the girth."

Four kids decided to raise their bets. After changing the
bets in the notebook and putting the cash in the paper bag,
we waited for Parley to get the halter from the barn- Then
we all walked down to the pasture. Everybody except Tom
climbed up on the top log railing of the fence. Tom opened
the gate and stepped inside the pasture-

1 watched Tom walk to where Chalky was standing in
the center of the pasture. I knew that as he shielded the
burro's head from our view with his back he was feeding

38

Chalky cubes of sugar. Then he put the halter on the jackass
and climbed on Chalky's back.

Parley was staring bug-eyed. "Why don't he buck?" he
said.

Chalky turned his head and looked at Tom. I guess he
was wondering why he hadn't been given any carrots. Then
he must have remembered that every time he'd been fed
sugar there were carrots by the north side pasture fence. He
started to walk and then broke into a trot until he reached
the spot where Tom had placed the carrots- Tom jumped
off Chalky's back. He patted the jackass on the neck. From
where we were sitting it looked as if Chalky were just eating
some of the pasture grass- Tom walked back across the pas-
ture toward us. I knew he was just giving Chalky time to eat
all the carrots.

All the kids except me and Frankie were staring at Tom
with bulging eyeballs and open mouths. They couldn't have
looked more surprised if The Great Brain .had suddenly
turned into a jackass himself.

Parley pointed at Tom. "You . . . you . . . you rode
him and he didn't even buck," he stammered.

"We didn't bet on whether or not Chalky would buck,"
Tom said. "I bet I could ride him and I did, so I win all
the bets made. And you said anybody who could ride the
jackass could have him. And that means I now own Chalky."

"But why didn't he buck?" Parley asked as he and the
rest of us kids jumped down from the fence.

"There is more than one way to gentle a jackass," Tom
said, "when you have a great brain. I'll borrow your halter
to take Chalky home with me and return it later."

Danny jumped in front of Tom. "No you won't," he
said, "not until you give us our money back. You swindled

39

us. You've been sneaking over here doing something to
Chalky so he would let you ride him. You knew you could
ride him when you bet."

"I told you all that I knew I could ride Chalky," Tom
said.

"Yeah," Danny said, "but you've lied to us so many
times to swindle us that you knew darn well we wouldn't
believe you and that makes it a swindle." He turned and
looked around at the other fellows. "I say Tom swindled us
and if he doesn't give us our money back we won't have any-
thing to do with him. All those in favor hold up their right
hands."

Every kid who had made a bet held up his right hand.
Somehow I knew this was going to happen. I felt sorry for
Tom because he was my brother, but he knew what the
penalty would be if he was caught backsliding. I knew it
would break his money-loving heart to give back the two
dollars and eighty cents he had won. But that was better
than not having any of the fellows speak to him or play
with him.

Danny turned to face Tom. "What's it going to be?" he
asked. "Do you give us back our money or do we unsuspend
your sentence or whatever they call it?"

Tom didn't even look worried. "The only person who
can revoke my suspended sentence is the judge who sen-
tenced me," he said. "You fellows say I swindled you- I say I
didn't. We'll leave it up to Harold Vickers to decide who
is right and who is wrong."

We all went to the Vickers home. Harold was the son of
the district attorney and going to become a- lawyer. That was
why I'd asked him to be the judge at Tom's trial. His mother
looked surprised when she saw about twenty kids on her big

40

front porch when she opened the door after Tom had
knocked. She said Harold was in his room and busy.

"It is very important, Mrs. Vickers," Tom said. "Please
call him."

Harold looked annoyed when he came to the front porch
wearing his glasses with the thick lenses. "What do you kids
want?" he asked. "I'm busy packing and getting ready to
leave on the morning train to go back to high school in Salt
Lake City."

Tom explained about Parley's offering Chalky to any-
body who could ride him and about betting the fellows that
he could ride the jackass-

"I rode the jackass," Tom continued, "and won two
dollars and eighty -cents from the fellows who bet. Now
they say I swindled them and want you to revoke my sus-
pended sentence."

Harold looked around at the fellows. "I haven't time to
hear each one of you give testimony,'^ he said. "Choose one
of you to act as spokesman for the group."

Danny stepped forward. "I'll do it," he said, "Tom knew
he could ride the jackass when he made the bets and that
makes it a swindle."

Harold looked at Tom. "That sounds as if you did swin-
dle them," he said.

"Your honor," Tom said, "according to the dictionary
and the law a swindle is getting money or property from
somebody by fraud or deceit. Am I right?"

"That is true," Harold said.

"And according to the dictionary and the law a fraud is
tricking somebody into giving you something by lying to
them," Tom said. "Am I right?"

"You are," Harold said.

41

"Well, your honor," Tom said, "I didn't deceive or lie

to anybody. I told the fellows that I knew I could ride the

jackass before we made any bets."

Harold turned to Danny. "Is that true?" he asked.
"Well. yes," Danny admitted. "But we thought he was

lying."

"Your honor," Tom said, "it is not my fault they didn't
believe me when I told them I knew I could ride the jackass.
And Parley offered to give the jackass to anybody who could
ride him. He didn't say I couldn't gentle the jackass by
making friends with it. So how can anybody say I swindled
them?"

Harold thought for a moment. "The court rules." he
said, "the defendant did not use fraud or deceit and there-
fore is not guilty of swindling anybody. The sentence re-
mains suspended. And if you kids were stupid enough to bet
after he told you he knew he could ride the jackass, you were
jackasses yourselves for betting. Court is adjourned."

The fellows were very quiet as we walked back to the
Benson place. I didn't know if it was because The Great
Brain had made fools out of them or because they liad lost
their money betting. Tom borrowed a halter and rode
Chalky to our corra! with me and Frankie following on foot.
He didn't have any trouble when lie put our packsaddle on
tlie jackass. It was too big, but tlie burro let Tom lead him
around the corral a few times carrying the packsaddle. Then
Tom removed it and motioned to me.

"Now J.D.." he said, "I want to make sure Chalky knows
human beings are his friends before I sell him. Get on him
and ride him around the corral a few times."

I figured that wild jackass might be Tom's friend but

42

that didn't mean he was mine. "I don't feel like getting
pitched off on my behind," I said.

"I tell you he won't buck." Tom said. "He's plumb
gentled."

"I would rather Chalky told me," I said.

"If you are afraid," Tom said, "I'll let Frankie ride
him."

That was enough to force me to ride the jackass. I sure
as heck didn't want to be known as a fellow who was afraid
to do something his six-year-old brother wasn't afraid to do.
I got on Chalky. He didn't buck. I rode him around the
corral a few times. Then Frankie wanted to ride the burro.
Tom let him until Mamma called us tor lunch.

After eating I went to the campgrounds with Tom to
sell Chalky. The streams in the mountains around Adenville
had a lot of beaver dams in them. Trappers who caught
beaver and other wild animals for they" furs always came to
Adenville for provisions. It was closer to the beaver dams
than any other town. There were usually three or four trap-
pers at the campgrounds. But when we arrived there was
Just one, a man named Brussard. He said he didn't need a
burro but knew another trapper who did. After some hag-
gling Tom sold Chalky for six dollars.

"I'll bet," I said as we left the campgrounds, "that he
sells Chalky for more than six dollars."

"I don't believe he would cheat a friend," Tom said.

"Speaking of cheating," I said, "boy, oh, boy, are you
backsliding."

Tom grabbed my arm and spun me around. "And just
what do you mean by that?" he asked.

"For my money,"* I said. "you were betting on a sure

43

thing when you bet you could ride Chalky, which makes it
a swindle even if you did pull the wool over Harold's eyes."

"I proved it wasn't a swindle," Tom said, "and Harold
as the judge agreed. Now along comes my own flesh and
blood and accuses me of being a swindler and backslider. I
think we will just let Mamma and Papa settle this. I'll tell
my side of the story and you tell yours. I'm sure they will
decide in my favor and punish you for calling your own
brother a swindler and backslider."

Boy, oh, boy, my little brain and big mouth had done
it again. I knew with that dictionary business and with
Harold agreeing it wasn't a swindle, that Tom could easily
convince our parents he hadn't swindled anybody. And I
knew my punishment would be the loss of my allowance for
at least a month and the silent treatment. Other kids in town
just got a whipping when being punished. Our parents
punished us by taking away our allowance and giving us the
silent treatment which was ten times worse than a whipping.
It meant that Papa and Mamma wouldn't speak to us and
would practically pretend we didn't exist for a day, a week,
or even longer, depending upon what we had done.

"I'm sorry I called you a backslider and swindler," I
said.

"I'm not going to let you oft with just an apology," Tom

said as he took a penny from his pocket and handed it to me.
"What's that for?" I asked staring at the penny.
"Mamma wants the vegetable garden weeded again

tomorrow," Tom said. "I'm paying you one cent to weed my

share."

"Oh, no, you don't." I said. "I'm not weeding your half
for just a penny."

"Would you rather I tell Papa and Mamma that you

44

called me a backslider and swindler?" Tom asked.

"I'll weed the garden," I said, knowing he had me over
a barrel. "But why the penny?"

"So Mamma and Papa won't be suspicious when you
tell them you are going to weed the garden by yourself," Tom
said. "All you've got to do is to tell them I paid you to weed
my share of the garden and you won't be telling -a lie. You
don't have to tell them how much I paid you."

"Thanks," I said, but I sure as heck didn't feel grateful.

I knew The Great Brain had swindled the fellows out oi"
two dollars and eighty cents. I knew he had blackmailed me
into weeding the garden again. He was still the same old
swindler, crook, confidence man, and blackmailer he had
always been. His great brain and money-loving heart would
never let him reform. And tomorrow, the last Saturday before
school started, other kids would be playing and going swim-
ming and having fun while I pulled weeds all day. I felt so
down in the dumps that I wished I haa three legs. Then I
could run around the block on two legs and use the other one
to kick myself all the way for not having sense enough to
keep my big mouth shut.

45

CHAPTER THREE

The Train Robbery

SCHOOL STARTED ON MONDAY morning. Kids
who had gone barefooted most of the summer now had to
wear shoes. Faces had to be scrubbed shiny. Uncomfortable
clothing had to be worn. Mr. Standish was still the master of
the first through the sixth grades in the common school. Mr.
Harvey Monroe became the master of the seventh and eighth
grades at the Academy. Lessons had to be learned. Books
had to be studied. Homework had to be done. It was like
going to prison after the carefree summer vacation, and
enough to make a fellow sit right down and bawl.

Papa asked Tom what he thought of Mr. Monroe during
supper after our first day of school.

46




"I guess he will be all right," Tom said after swallowing
a mouthful of pot roast. "But he is very young to be a

teacher."

"He graduated from the University of Utah last June,"
Papa said. "This is his first teaching contract."

"That explains it," Tom said. "He sure was nervous his

first day."

School always began at the same time the ranchers were
rounding up cattle for market. Papa received an advertise-
ment every fall from the Bruford Brothers Meat-Packing
Company in Kansas City. He ran the advertisement just
about when school started- This year he published it in the
September 6 edition of the Advocate, the day after school
began. The advertisement notified all cattlemen that Mr.
Paul Simpson would be in Adenville during the week be-
ginning September 11 to buy cattle for the company.

When the advertisement appeared the cattle ranchers
started rounding up beet animals for market—mostly four-
and five-year-old steers and older dry cows. The ranchers
brought the cattle to Adenville a day or two before Mr.
Simpson was due to arrive. They put them in the livestock
loading pens by the railroad spur track. From there the
cattle would be shipped by rail to Kansas City.

All the ranchers liked dealing with Mr. Simpson because
he always offered a fair price for cattle. He treated the small
ranchers with just a few head to sell the same as the big
ranchers with a hundred or more head to sell. I guess that
was why cattle buyers from other meat-packing companies
very seldom came to Adenville.

The Saturday after our first week of school every kid in
town was down at the loading pens. We watched drovers for
big ranches like the Flying W put their cattle in large sepa-

47

rate pens. The smaller ranchers with just a few head of
cattle to sell put their cattle all together in a big pen. When
the sale of the cattle belonging to each small rancher began,
cowboys on cutting horses would separate the cattle belong-
ing to each rancher by the brands on them and run them
through the chute to be tallied.

Monday morning it was back to school again. The
Academy was just two blocks from the common school-
Frankie, who was' in the first grade, waited with me for Tom
at noon and after school. When we arrived home for lunch
that day Mamma told us Papa wouldn't be eating with us.
"Why not?" Tom asked.

"He hung up the telephone before I could ask him,"
Mamma said. "Then I remembered that Mr. Simpson is due
to arrive on the eleven o'clock train this morning. Your
father always has lunch with Mr. Simpson at the Sheepmen's
Hotel while getting news about the cattle business."

When Tom, Frankie, and I got home from school that
afternoon Mamma and Aunt Bertha were in the kitchen
making Parker House rolls for supper. We always had a
glass of milk and some cookies after school before changing
into our play clothes. I could see Mamma was upset about
something.

"All I can say. Bertha," she was saying as we entered
the kitchen, "is that it is a fine how-do-you-do when the wife
of the editor and publisher of the Advocate has to find out
about a train robbery second hand."

"A train robbery!" Tom shouted. "Where? When?"
"The eleven o'clock train was held up twenty-five miles
north of town," Mamma said, "and poor Mr. Simpson was
killed by the robbers. But did I find out about it from your
father? No. I learned about it from Mrs. Smith, who heard

48

about it t-rom Mrs. Olsen, who heard about it from Mrs.
Larson. And when I finally reached your father at the
Advocate office he said he would tell us all about it when he
came home for supper."

"I'm not waiting," Tom said, with an excited look on
his freckled face. "I'm going to the Advocate office."

"No, you aren't," Mamma said sharply. "Your father
said he was very busy, and that means he doesn't want to be
disturbed."

We were all "waiting in the parlor when Papa arrived
home for supper. I expected to hear Mamma really tell Papa
off for not letting her know about the train robbery. But she
didn't. She smiled and kissed him as she always did.

Tom looked as if he was going to explode with curiosity.
"The train robbery!" he exclaimed. "What about the train
robbery?"

Papa sat down in his rocking chair. "I had to tear down

h.

the front page of tomorrow's edition of the Advocate," he
said, "and set type for the story of the train robbery and the
murder of Mr. Simpson. The type is all set and ready for the
Washington press. I'll have to work tonight." -

Then Papa told us what had happened. Nels Larson, the
stationmaster, had received the usual telegram from the
station master at Cedar City that the train had left there on
time. This meant the train should arrive in Adenville at
eleven o'clock. Mr. Larson waited until eleven thirty and
then telephoned Uncle Mark. He told my uncle the train
must have been in a wreck from a rock slide or something or
it would have been on time. Uncle Mark got Dr. LeRoy,
Papa, and some other men to organize a rescue party. By the
time they had blankets, medicine, shovels, and everything
needed for a train wreck loaded-into a wagon, the train

49

pulled into the station almost an hour and a halt late. Uncle
Mark quickly interviewed trainmen and passengers and then
left with a posse. Papa interviewed trainmen and passengers
and went to the Advocate to write the story and set type for it.

"The outlaws stopped the train by pulling logs across the         fe[W7?],^FmgQfffl^fff^r^)M
tracks," Papa continued. "None of the trainmen were armed
because we've never had a train robbery between here and
Salt Lake City. One of the outlaws held a gun on the engineer
and the fireman. The other three entered the passenger coach.
The leader of the gang must have known Simpson on sight
and that the cattle buyer was carrying a large amount of cash.
Simpson was armed, like most cattle buyers. He tried to
draw his gun and was killed. The outlaws took Simpson's
money belt and made their escape. They took the engineer
and fireman with them for about three miles and made the
men walk back- That is why the train was so late getting
here."

Papa stopped talking and began shaking his head. "I just
can't believe it," he said.

"Believe what?" Mamma asked.

"I just can't believe it was Butch Cassidy and the Wild
Bunch," Papa said. "Cassidy has never killed a man during
a robbery and never operated around southwestern Utah."

No wonder Papa found it hard to believe. Butch Cas-
sidy was known as the Robin Hood of the west because he
robbed the rich and gave to the poor. His real name was
George Leroy Parker. He was born in Circleville when Utah
was still a territory. The Wild Bunch committed robberies
from Canada to Mexico and from Nebraska to California.
But they spent most of their time in Utah at a place known
as Brown's Hole or another place called Robbers' Roost near
Hanksville, Utah. The rugged terrain of both places made it

50

just about impossible to capture the gang—not that any posse
tried very hard. Papa often said Cassidy had so many friends
among legitimate people that a marshal or sheriff couldn't
get enough volunteers to make up a posse. Butch Cassidy
and his gang were often seen in Hanksville, but the marshal
made no attempt to arrest them. Cassidy and his gang had
helped so many people in the town and spent so much money
there that the townspeople would have probably tarred and
feathered anybody who tried to arrest them.

Cassidy had the distinction of being the only outlaw who
attended his own funeral alive. An outlaw identified as
Cassidy had been killed at San Rafael Swell south of Price,
Utah. Cassidy, concealed in a covered wagon, rode down
Main Street in Price and saw what was supposed to be his
body lying in state. Later it was discovered that the dead
man was really a minor outlaw named Jim Herron who
looked like Cassidy.

Mamma was the first to recover from her surprise. "Then
how can you say it was Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch?"
she asked.

"Sam Ludetl was on the train returning from a vacation
in Salt Lake City," Papa said. "He identified the leader as
Butch Cassidy."

"And just who is Sam Ludell?" Mamma asked.

"He is a blackjack dealer at the Fairplay Saloon," Papa an-
swered. "Before coming here about a year ago, Ludell worked
in a saloon at Castle Gate. He was there when Cassidy and
the Wild Bunch stole the mine payroll. You remember me
printing the story in the Advocate about how Cassidy, posing
as a cowboy, hung around Castle Gate for a week getting the
lay of the land before the robbery. He drank and played

52

poker in the saloon where Ludell was working during that
week. That is how Ludell knew him."

Tom shook his head. "Didn't the outlaws wear masks?"
he asked.

"They all had red bandanna handkerchiefs tied over
their noses," Papa said.

"Then how could Sam Ludell identify Butch Cassidy?"
Tom asked.

"If you will just refrain from asking so many questions,"
Papa said, "I will tell you. Paul Simpson was sitting in a
seat by himself- Ludell was sitting by himself in a seat across
the aisle from Simpson. Ludell said the leader of the outlaws
leaned over and ripped open Simpson's shirt with his left
hand, while holding a gun on the cattle buyer in his right
hand. He motioned for Simpson to remove the money belt
and hand it over. Instead Simpson tried to d''aw'his gun and
the outlaw shot him. Then in a dying gesture Simpson
reached up and pulled down the bandanna handkerchief.
Ludell claims that during the couple of seconds it took the
outlaw to pull the bandanna back up that he got a good
enough look at the'outlaw's face to identify him as Butch
Cassidy."

Papa paused for a moment as he again shook his head.
"Then there is Mrs. Parker's story that corroborates Ludell's
story," he said. "She was returning from visiting her sister
in Cedar City. She claims that just before Simpson was shot
she heard him say, 'Butch.' Now it is entirely possible that
Simpson had seen Cassidy in person at some time or seen
wanted posters of the outlaw. And it is also possible that he
recognized the outlaw even with the race partly covered by
the bandanna handkerchief. And it is also possible that

53

Simpson, knowing Cassidy had never killed a man during a
holdup, dared to go for his gun. Al! these things are possible.
But I won't believe Butch Cassidy killed Simpson unless
Mark and the posse bring him back."

Papa then looked at Mamma. "How about some supper
now, Tena," he said. "I didn't have any lunch."

After supper Papa said he wanted Tom and me to go
to the Advocate office and help him. Papa operated the
Washington press while Tom fed newsprint into it. I folded
the newspapers and put the yellow mailing stickers on the
ones to be mailed. Papa told me to hand print a mailing
sticker and send a copy of the paper to the editor of the
Hanksville Bugle. It was almost ten before we went to bed. I
was very sleepy but there was one question that suddenly
began to bother me.

"Why do cattle buyers carry such large sums of cash?"
I asked Tom as we started to get undressed.

"Because it has always been the custom for cattle buyers
to pay in cash," Tom answered, "so the ranchers get their
money right on the spot."

"How much do you figure Mr. Simpson had in his
money belt?" I asked.

"There must be five hundred head of cattle in the load
ing pens," Tom said. "That is about the same as last year. At
ten dollars a head that would be five thousand dollars. I
would guess that Mr. Simpson, not knowing just how many
head of cattle there would be, must have been carrying about
six thousand dollars."

"Boy, oh, boy," I said. "That is a lot of money. Why
don't you put your great brain to work on solving the train
robbery and murder? I'll bet the Brufoid Brothers would
give you a big reward if you did."

54

"I might do just that," Tom said, "if Uncle Mark and
the posse don't catch the outlaws."

Uncle Mark and the posse didn't catch the outlaws.
They returned the same night because they didn't have a
chance of tracking them. Papa told us about it during lunch
the next day. Southwestern Utah has several large lava beds
left by extinct volcanoes. Just a few miles from the train
robbery the outlaws had crossed one of them, leaving no
tracks. Uncle Mark and the posse circled the lava bed trying
to find out where the outlaws left it. They failed because the
lava bed was surrounded by desert and the wind was blowing.
Early Mormon pioneers complained to their leader Brigham
Young about the wind in Southwestern Utah. They said they
had to plant a seed and stand on it until it rooted or the wind
would blow it away. The wind had erased all tracks wherever
the outlaws had left the lava bed.

After lunch Tom told Frankie and me he was going to
the depot to talk to Mr, Larson the stationmaster about the
train robbery. Frankie and I went on to the common
school. We met Tom on the corner when school let out.

"I've decided to put my great brain to work on the
train robbery and the murder of Mr. Simpson," he told us.
"Tell Mamma I've gone to talk to Uncle Mark."

"Can I come?" I asked.

"All right," Tom said. "But Frankie, you tell Mamma
that J.D. and I won't be home until it is time to do the
chores."

Tom and I went to the marshal's office. It was called the
marshal's office because Sheriff Baker was so seldom there.
It was really a combination of the marshal's and sheriff's
office and the jail. When the old marshal's office had burned

55

down years before, Uncle Mark was made a deputy sheriff as
well as marshal and had used the office ever since. He was
sitting at his desk with his Stetson hat pushed to the back of
his head and staring at the ceiling. There were no prisoners
in any of the three cells.

"I was just thinking," he said, "it seems as if every time
something serious happens around here Sheriff Baker is out
of town."

"That is why they made you a deputy sheriff," Tom
said.

"It's a big county," Uncle Mark said. "Sheriff Baker has
a lot of territory to cover, but I do expect him back to-
morrow."

One thing I always liked about Uncle Mark. He never
talked down to Tom and me. He treated us as if we were
grown ups.

"I put my great brain to work on the train robbery,"
Tom said as we sat down. "I don't believe Butch Cassidy and
the Wild Bunch did it."

Uncle Mark looked at Tom with interest. "Why?" he
asked.

"Because Cassidy has never killed a man during a rob-
bery," Tom said, "and because he and his gang have never
operated around here."

"I doubt that it was Cassidy and his gang too," Uncle
Mark said. "But I've got a little more to go on than you do."

"What?" Tom asked.

"You will both have to promise anything I say won't go
any farther than the walls of this office," Uncle Mark said.

Tom and I both promised.

Uncle Mark leaned back in his chair. "This train rob-

56

bery was planned by somebody who knows this part of the
country well," he said. "Only somebody familiar with the
area and knowing how strong the wind blows around here
would have picked that particular place near the lava bed to
hold up the train. And the leader of the gang was somebody
who knew Simpson would be on the train and who also
knew the cattle buyer on sight."

"I can't understand why Mr. Simpson was foolish
enough to go for his gun," Tom said, "when the leader of
the outlaws had a gun pointed straight at him."

"It doesn't make sense to me either," Uncle Mark said.
"But that is what Sam Ludell said happened. No other
passenger in the coach could have seen it."

"If Sam Ludell recognized Butch Cassidy why didn't the
outlaw recognize him?" Tom asked.

"Ludell claims he saw Cassidy drinking and playing
draw poker in the saloon in Castle Gate where he worked,"
Uncle Mark said. "Claims Cassidy never noticed him because
he was the blackjack dealer and the outlaw never played

blackjack."

"What do you think really happened?" Tom asked.
"I believe Simpson recognized the man who killed
him," Uncle Mark said. "It might have been from the cloth-
ing the man was wearing—a ring on his finger or something
like that. And I think Simpson was so surprised that he
blurted out the man's name. The outlaw, knowing he'd
been recognized, had to kill Simpson. And I believe Mrs.
Parker heard the name Simpson spoke. But as soon as the
outlaws left Ludell jumped up and began shouting it was
Butch Cassidy. And poor frightened Mrs. Parker imagined
the name she heard was Butch. It might have been a name

57

that didn't even sound like Butch."

"Why do you think Mr. Ludell insists it was Butch
Cassidy he saw?" Tom asked.

"He was working in Castle ('.ate when Cassidy and the
Wild Bunch stole that mine payroll at the depot there."
Uncle Mark said. "I think when the train was held up the
first thing that popped into his mind was the mine payroll
holdup. And it is, possible the outlaw did look like Cassidy.
Put them all together and Ludell is convinced it was
Cassidy."

"Thanks, Uncle Mark," Tom said as we stood up. "See
you later."

"Hold it," Uncle Mark said. "If you get any kind of a
lead you must bring it to me. These men are wanted for
murder and robbery. They have killed one man and wouldn't
hesitate to kill again, even a boy. rather than get caught.
Promise?"

"I promise," Tom said.

We left the marshal's office and started for home.

"You know, J.D.," Tom said, "I think Uncle Mark is
right about everything except for one thing."

"What's that?" I asked.

"He said Mrs. Parker might have heard a name that
didn't even sound like Butch," Tom said. "But no matter
how frightened she was I don't think Mrs. Parker would
have said it was Butch, even with I.udell yelling it was Butch
Cassidy, unless the name she heard did sound like Butch."

"How do you figure that?" I asked.

"What it the name Mrs. Parker heard was a name like
Bill or Harry or Steve?" Tom asked. "She would know darn
well it wasn't Butch no matter how frightened she was. My

58

great brain tells me that it has to lie a name that sounds like
Butch."

Uncle Mark received a telegram from the Bruford
Brothers after we'd left him. He stopped and showed it to
Papa who told us about it when he came home for supper.

"They asked Mark to arrange with the local undertaker
to ship Mr. Simpson's body to Kansas City for burial," Papa
said. "They also asked him to notify the ranchers who have
cattle to sell that they are sending another cattle buyer
named Harold Perkins to take Mr. Simpson's place. But Mr.
Perkins won't be able to arrive in Adenville until Saturday.
I don't believe the ranchers will complain though, because
the Bruford Brothers have agreed to foot the bill for hay to
feed the cattle until Mr. Perkins arrives. They also asked
Mark to hold Mr. Simpson's personal possessions and give
them to Perkins to take back to Kansas City with him."

After supper Tom, Frankie, and I did our homework.
Then Frankie and I began playing checkers sitting on the
floor in front of the parlor fireplace. Tom came into the
room with a pencil and notebook. He sat in a chair, wrote
down a word, and stared at it. Then he wrote some more
words and stared at them. Even Papa became curious.

"What are you writing in that notebook that is so inter-
esting?" he asked.

"I'm trying to find a name that sounds like Butch,"
Tom said. "I've found words like clutch, crutch, much, such,
and touch. But the only name I can think of is Dutch. Do
you know anybody called Dutch?"

"Yes," Papa said. "Dutch Wegland. He is an old-time
prospector. Comes into town about twice a year looking for
a grub stake. But Dutch is an old man now in his seventies

59

and a loner and not the type of person who would rob a
train."

Tom shook his head. "Mr. Simpson sure as heck
wouldn't say a word like crutch before being shot," he said.

"I don't know about that," Papa said. "A man facing
death is liable to say anything. I remember when Hank Davis
was hung in Silverlode after being convicted of murder. The
last thing he ever said was. 'trees.' No doubt about it. The
marshal and hangman heard him- say 'trees' just before the
trap was sprung."

Tom shut the notebook. "I give up," he said.

Papa studied Tom for a moment. "I know there is some-
thing you aren't telling me," he said, "because you gave up
too easily. I think I know what it is- Sheriff Baker will be
back tomorrow or the next day. I suggest you leave the
train robbery up to him and your Uncle Mark."

And that for my money was like telling a kid who has
just bought an ice cream cone to throw it away.

60

CHAPTER FOUR

Tom and the Numbers Irick

TOM SURPRISED FRANKIE and me by going up to
bed at the same time we did that night.

"How come you are going to bed an hour early?" I asked
as we entered the bedroom.

"Yeah, how come?" Frankie said.

"My great brain has to figure out how it would be
possible to recognize somebody who is masked," Tom said.

"Uncle Mark said it could be a ring on a finger or the
clothing the outlaw was wearing," I said.

"I don't think so," Tom said. "Nobody would be dumb
enough to wear a ring or clothing they knew would be
recognized. I'm going to try an experiment."

61

The Great Brain got a bandanna handkerchief from his
dresser drawer. He put it over his nose and tied it around in
back of his head. Then he got a hat from the clothes closet
and put it on.

"Now, you two take a good look at me," he said. "How
do you know it is me?"

"Who else could it be?" I asked.

"Yeah, who else?" Frankie said.

"If you didn't know it was me," Tom said, "how would
you guess it is me?"

"From the clothing you arc wearing," I said, showing
him I wasn't a dumbbell-

"Now imagine that I'm wearing clothing you've never
seen," Tom said. "How would you know it was me?"

I stared at him for a couple of minutes. "The only way
I could guess it might be you would be from the freckles on
your high cheekbones and forehead. But lots of kids have
freckles."

Tom removed the bandanna and hat. "This is a tough
one," he said, "but there has to be an answer."

Frankie got between us. "I'd know it was you even if
you covered up all your face."

Tom dropped to his knees and put his hands on
Frankie's shoulders. "How would you know?"

"By the scar on your hand," Frankie said.

Tom removed his left hand from Frankie's shoulder and
stared at it. He had given himself a nasty cut with a knife he
was using to top beets from our garden before Frankie came
to live with us. It had left a scar on the back of his hand
about two inches long. He gave Frankie a little hug.

"Thanks, Frankie," he said. "Now we are getting some-
where."

62

The next day after school we went home and changed
clothes. Eddie Huddle came over to play with Frankie. Tom
and I sat on the back porch steps. I knew his great brain was
working like sixty as he kept staring at the scar on his hand.

"Got it!" he said, jumping to his feet. "I'm going to the
barber shop. Maybe Mr. Forester can give me a clue."

"Can I come?" I asked.

"If you keep your mouth shut no matter what I say,"
Tom answered.

Mr. Forester was alone in his barber shop when we got
there. He was standing before the back mirror staring at his
bald head. Papa sometimes joked about Mr. Forester because
the barber bought every new hair tonic he saw advertised
that was supposed to grow hair. But he still had just a fringe
of hair around the edges and a big bald spot on top. For
my money Papa had a lot of nerve, because our attic was
filled with crazy inventions Papa had seen advertised and
bought. And none of them worked.

Mr. Forester had never been friendly with Tom because
The Great Brain had swindled his son Danny so many times.
But he was very friendly now believing Tom had reformed.

"Hello, Tom and John," he said. "I know you aren't
here for a haircut because I gave both of you a haircut just
before school started. What can I do for you?"

"We came to ask you a question to settle a bet," Tom

said.

Mr. Forester frowned. "I thought you gave up betting
when you reformed," he said.

Tom showed him the scar on his hand. "We aren't bet-
ting money," he said. "J.D, and I got to talking about peo-
ple who have scars on their hands and faces. I bet him that

63

you could name ten men in town who had scars because
you are a barber."

"I can name you several men who have scars on their
races," Mr. Forester said, "but not on their hands. I have to
watch the scars on the faces of men I shave. Hal Benson has
a scar on his right cheek, Fred Harvey on his chin, Matt
Gillis just under his right eye. Jerry Stout on his cheek, Lem
Carter a nasty scar on his throat, and Frank Collopy a scar on
his nose. Reckon you lose the bet, Tom, because I can't
think of any more offhand."

"How about people living on farms and ranches?" Tom
asked.

"Let me see," Mr. Forester said. "Peter Gunderson and
Charlie Smedly have cheek scars. And Dave Ecord's whole
face is scarred. Got it from being kicked by a horse. Wonder
it didn't kill him. Gave a shave and a haircut to two more
just yesterday, Grant and Hutchinson from the Flying W
ranch. Couple of wild ones those two buckeroos. Herb Grant
has a scar from a knife fight that split his lips, and Hutch has
a scar over his right eyebrow and just above it. Got hit with
a broken bottle in a saloon fight one night."
"Thank you very much," Tom said.
We ran all the way to the marshal's office. Sheriff Baker
had returned and was sitting at his desk. He was a very big
man, taller and heavier and quite a bit older than Uncle
Mark. He had the biggest gray walrus mustache of any man
in town.

"Howdy, boys," he said. "If you are looking for your
uncle he will be back in a few minutes."

"I guess Uncle Mark told you all about the train rob-
bery and murder of Mr. Simpson," Tom said as we sat down.
"Yep," Sheriff Baker said. "Figure your uncle is right

64

about it not being Butch Cassidy and the Wild Bunch."

We talked about the train robbery until Uncle Mark
arrived a few minutes later. He said hello to Tom and me
and then spoke to the sheriff.

"Checked the livery stable," he said. "No horses were
rented out the morning of the train robbery. Wouldn't have
done us much good anyway. The outlaws hid the horses be-
hind some trees and bushes."

"Didn't the engineer and fireman get a look at the
brands on the horses when the outlaws took them along?"
Sheriff Baker asked.

"Couldn't," Uncle Mark said. "The outlaws blindfolded
them and told them not to look back when they let them go."

"Just another thing that indicates it must have been
somebody around here who did the job," Sheriff Baker said.
"They were afraid somebody on the train from Adenville
might recognize one or more of the horses."

Tom stood up. "If I can help you find the outlaws will I
get the reward?" he asked.

^eriff Baker leaned forward in his chair. "Your uncle
has told me some fantastic stories about that great brain of
yours," he said. "You help us catch and convict these outlaws
and you can have any reward money there might be."

"First," Tom said, "what can you tell me about a man
named Hutchinson who works at the Flying W ranch?"

"He is the nephew of Fred Pearson who owns the
ranch," Sheriff Baker said. "His mother died when the boy
was just a youngster and his father was killed in an accident
soon after. Pearson took the boy in to raise and spoiled him
rotten. Your uncle can tell you more about that than I can."

Uncle Mark sat down at his desk. "Ever since he was old
enough to enter a saloon," he said, "Hutch has been nothing

65

but trouble. He started a saloon fight every time he came
to town and he began gambling and running up debts. His
uncle paid for the damages and the fines and settled the
gambling debts for about three years. Then about a month
ago I guess Pearson got fed up. He notified the saloon keep-
ers he wouldn't be responsible for any more of his nephew's
gambling debts. And he told Judge Potter and me he would
let his nephew rot in jail before he would pay any more
fines." Uncle Mark shook his head. "But I knew it wouldn't
last."

"Why do you say that?" Tom asked.

"Because Hutch has been gambling and losing heavily
at the Fairplay Saloon for the past two nights," Uncle Mark
answered.

"Just one more question," Tom said, "and I think my
great brain will have the train robbery solved. Mr. Simpson
would know Hutchinson, wouldn't he?"

"Of course," Uncle Mark said. "Hutch has been coming
into town with his uncle since he was about sixteen to tally
cattle sold to Simpson." Then Uncle Mark came out of his
chair as if he had been sitting on a tack. "I know what you
are leading up to but go on."

"You called him Hutch," Tom said. "And Mr. Forester
called him Hutch. And there is nobody around here with a
name that sounds like Butch except him. And Mr. Forester
said Hutch had a scar over his left eyebrow. A scar like that
could be seen above a bandanna mask. I think Mr. Simpson
recognized Hutch by the scar, and what Mrs. Parker heard
him say before he was shot was Hutch and not Butch. And
Hutch, knowing he'd been recognized, had to kill Mr. Simp-
son. And if Mr. Pearson isn't making his nephew's gambling
debts good, that must mean that the money Hutch is los-

66

ing playing poker was stolen from Mr. Simpson."

Uncle Mark turned to Sheriff Baker. "Tom could be
right," he said.

"It is a damn good theory," Sheriff Baker said. "And
while we are at it let's get Calvin Whitlock to keep a record
of all Kansas City bank notes deposited in his bank. If local
people pulled this train robbery the money will start burn-
ing a hole in their pockets, and they will start spending it.
Simpson has always paid for cattle with Kansas City bank
notes. About the only time they show up around here is
when he is in town. And while we're at it let's send the
Bruford Brothers a telegram asking them if they can furnish
us with the serial numbers of the Kansas City bank notes
Simpson was carrying."

I guess I'd better explain about paper money back in
those days. Each bank issued its own bank notes which were
redeemable in gold at that particular bank. It wasn't until
1913 when the Federal Reserve System was established that
the Government of the United States started printing its own
paper money and banks stopped issuing their own bank
notes. Most of the bank notes in Adenville were on Utah
banks.

I figured for sure Tom's great brain had failed him
when we entered the marshal's office the next day after
school. Both Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker really looked
down in the dumps.

"I was wrong?" Tom asked as if he'd just lost the ball
game.

"No," Uncle Mark replied- "You were dead right. We
found out Fred Pearson hasn't changed his mind about mak-
ing good his nephew's gambling debts. He thinks Hutch has
got a lucky streak going for him at the Fairplay Saloon."

67

Tom got a puzzled look on his freckled face. "But
doesn't that mean the money Hutch is losing came from the
train robbery?" he asked.

"No doubt about it," Uncle Mark said. "Bob Daniels,
the proprietor of the Fairplay Saloon, told us that Hutch has
lost over two hundred dollars. He still had the money in his
safe and it was all in Kansas City bank notes. We've got leads
on the whole gang. Sam Ludell is sweet on a dance hall girl
named Rose at the Fairplay Saloon. He bought her several
expensive dresses at Pearl Addison's Dress Shop and paid for
them with Kansas City bank notes."

Tom nodded. "No wonder he tried to put the blame on
Cassidy and the Wild Bunch."

"That ties Ludell in on it all right," Uncle Mark said.
"And Herb Grant bought a new saddle from Jerry Stout's
place paying for it with Kansas City bank notes. Curly Davis,
a cowboy Pearson fired a couple of weeks .ago, has lost more
than a hundred dollars playing poker at the Whitehorse Sa-
loon, all of it in Kansas City bank notes. Earl Eggerson who
runs the dice table at the Fairplay Saloon bought an expen-
sive watch and gold chain at the jewelry store with Kansas
City bank notes. The sheriff and I are convinced that Hutch,
Grant, Davis, and Eggerson held up the train and that Lu-
dell was in on it."

Tom stared at the three empty cells. "Then why didn't
you arrest them?" he asked.

Sheriff Baker cleared his throat. "Because District At-
torney Vickers told us that he can't convict the men just
because they are spending Kansas City bank notes," he said.

No wonder Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker looked so
down in the dumps.

Tom was shaking his head. "But don't they have to

68

prove where they got the money?" he asked the sheriff.

"The law doesn't work that way," Sheriff Baker said.
"To get a conviction we would have to have the serial num-
bers of the bank notes Simpson was carrying in his money
belt. We got an answer to the telegram we sent to the Bru-
ford Brothers. They don't keep a record of the serial numbers
themselves. But they did say it has been company policy for
the cattle buyers themselves to keep a list of serial numbers
since two o( them were robbed. But . - -" he didn't finish the
sentence, just shrugged helplessly.

"But what?" Tom asked.

"Your uncle removed all personal effects from the
clothing Simpson was wearing before the body was shipped
to Kansas City," Sheriff Baker said. "He did not find any list.
After receiving the telegram your uncle and I searched Simp-
son's satchel and suitcase which we are holding for Mr. Per-
kins to take back to Kansas City. We didn't find any list of
serial numbers."

"Then what happened to it?" Tom asked.

"My guess is that Simpson just forgot to make out a list
of the serial numbers," Sheriff Baker said.

Just then Papa came into the office holding a telegram
and looking excited. "I sent a copy of the Advocate with the
story of the train robbery and murder to the editor of the
Hanksville Bugle," he said. "I knew Cassidy and his gang
make Hanksville a sort of second home and thought the editor
would be interested in knowing Cassidy had been identified
as the man who killed Simpson. I just received this telegram
from the editor. He wired me that Cassidy was seen in Hanks-
ville the day of the train robbery by several people including
himself."

Papa handed the telegram to Sheriff Baker who read it

69

and then handed it to Uncle Mark to read.

"This," Uncle Mark said, "makes a liar out of Sam
Ludell. I think our best bet is to arrest Ludell and see if we
can't get a confession out of him on the strength of this tele-
gram and him spending Kansas City bank notes."

Sheriff Baker shook his head. "Ludell is a cool cus-
tomer," he said. "He has to be or he couldn't be a blackjack
dealer. He can always say the outlaw looked like Cassidy.
And the bank notes mean nothing without the serial num-
bers."

"We have no choice," Uncle Mark said. "We've got to
arrest Ludell before Saturday. Perkins will be in town buy-
ing cattle, and Adenville will be flooded with Kansas City
bank notes by Saturday night."

Tom had been sitting with wrinkles in his forehead and
concentrating with his great brain so hard that he wasn't
even listening. Papa stared at him.

"What's on your mind, T.D.?" he asked.

Tom didn't answer. Just sat there. I nudged him with
my elbow.

"Papa asked you a question," I said.

Tom blinked his eyes and then looked at our father.
"I'm sorry, Papa," he said. "I was thinking."

"I know that look on your face," Papa said. "What
were you thinking?"

Tom looked at Sheriff Baker. "Let Papa read that tele-
gram from the Bruford Brothers about their cattle buyers
keeping a list of serial numbers," he said.

Tom waited until Papa had read the telegram. "What
kind of a man was Mr. Simpson?" he asked. "I mean was he
a conscientious kind of man?"

"I've known Paul Simpson for about a dozen years,"

70

Papa said. "I would say he was a very conscientious man.
Why do you ask?"

"Because if Mr. Simpson was a conscientious man," Tom
said, "and knew it was company policy to keep a list of the
serial numbers of bank notes he was carrying, then he must
have made a list. Maybe he didn't want to carry the list on
his person in case robbers searched him. Maybe he didn't
want to put the list in his satchel or suitcase in case robbers
took them believing he might have more money in them. My
great brain has figured out there was only one way Mr. Simp-
son could make sure nobody but him ever got that list of
serial numbers."

Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker came up from their chairs
as we stared at Tom.

Tom stood up. "The only way Mr. Simpson could make
sure," Tom said, "was to mail the list to himself at the Sheep-
men's Hotel. Did you ask if there was any mail tor him at the
hotel?"

Sheriff Baker slapped his hand on his hip. "No, we
didn't," he said, "but by cracky we will now."

I don't believe Uncle Mark, Sheriff Baker, and Papa
ever walked so fast in their lives. Tom and I had to run to
keep up with them all the way to the hotel- Mr. Ricker was
behind the desk. He had the longest neck and biggest Adam's
apple of anybody in town.

Sheriff Baker spoke to him. "Are you holding any mail
for Paul Simpson?" he asked.

Mr. Picker's Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he
talked- "I have a letter addressed to him in a Bruford Broth-
ers envelope," he said. "Figured it must be company business,
so I decided to hold it and give it to Mr. Perkins when he
arrives Saturday."

71




"Give me the letter," Sheriff Baker ordered.

Mr Ricker removed the letter from a box and handed
it to the sheriff, who opened it. Sheriff Baker was grinning as
he looked at the letter and then showed it to us. Across the
top was written, "ADENVILLE, UTAH, TRIP BANK
NOTE SERIAL NUMBERS," and below were listed the
serial numbers.

Sheriff Baker patted Tom on the shoulder. "Thanks to
your great brain we've got these outlaws cold," he said. Then
he spoke to Uncle Mark. "We'll get Calvin Whitlock to open
the bank so we can check the serial numbers of the Kansas
City bank notes the gang has spent. And if they match any
of the serial numbers written here, which I'm sure they will,
we will arrest Hutch, Grant, Davis, Eggerson, and Ludell."

Papa said it was time for Tom and me to go home and
do the evening chores- Then he added, "I'll be home late.
Tell your mother to go ahead and have supper."

Tom and I started for homev "Boy, oh, boy," I said,
"what a rotten deal. Your great brairi solved the train rob-
bery and murder and you can't be in on the most exciting
part,"

"It wouldn't look right," Tom said. "The outlaws know
Sheriff Baker is a bachelor and that we aren't Uncle Mark's
kids. They would wonder why the sheriff and marshal would
let Papa bring along a couple of his kids."

But I couldn't help noticing that Tom was just as ner-
vous as I was until Papa finally came home a little after seven
o'clock and told us what had happened.

Uncle Mark and Sheriff Baker arrested the five men
with the help of three deputies. They found a money belt on
Hutch with over a thousand dollars in it in Kansas City bank
notes. Herb Grant was also wearing a money belt with his

73

share of the notes. Earl Eggerson had his share hidden in the
toes of a pair of boots in his room at the Sheepmen's Hotel.
Curly Davis had a receipt on him for an envelope he had
deposited in the Whitehorse Saloon safe containing Kansas
City bank notes. They didn't find any of the stolen money in
Ludell's possession or in his room. But when they searched
the room of his girl, Rose, they found Ludell's share of the
bank notes he hadn't spent- She admitted Ludell had given
her the money to hold for him.

With Curly Davis and Sam Ludell locked up in one cell
and Herb Grant and Earl Eggerson in another and Hutch in
a cell by himself, Sheriff Baker began the questioning with
District Attorney Vickers and Papa present along with Uncle
Mark. First Sheriff Baker showed Ludell the telegram Papa
had received from the editor of the Hanksville Bugle.

"This proves you lied," Sheriff Baker said.

Ludell just shrugged- "I didn't lie," he said. "The man
looked like Butch Cassidy, and I honestly believed it was
him. And you can't send a man to prison for that."

Then Sheriff Baker showed all the outlaws the telegram
from the Bruford Brothers about their cattle buyers keeping
records of the serial numbers of bank notes they carried.
Sheriff Baker then showed them the list of serial numbers
Mr. Simpson had mailed to himself at the hotel.

"We knew all we had to do was wait until the gang who
held up the train started spending Kansas City bank notes,"
Sheriff Baker said. "The serial numbers you see checked off
are from bank notes that Davis and Hutchinson lost playing
poker in the two saloons, that Grant used to buy a saddle
from Jerry Stout, that Eggerson used to buy a watch and
chain, and that Ludell used to buy dresses for Rose at Pearl
Addison's Dress Shop."

74

Sheriff Baker then walked in front of the cell Hutch was
in. "We also know," he said, "that you killed Simpson. He
recognized you from that scar above your right eyebrow
which the bandanna mask didn't cover- And when he called
you Hutch you knew he'd recognized you and you killed
him."

Then the sheriff walked back to his desk and sat down.
"We will start with the'bank notes in the money belt Grant
was wearing," he said to Uncle Mark. "The district attorney
and Mr, Fitzgerald will witness the serial numbers I cross off
as you call them out."

Uncle Mark opened Grant's money belt. He removed
the bank notes and made a pile of them. Then he began call-
ing off the serial numbers. Sheriff Baker would locate the
serial number on the list and check it off, then nod his head
for Uncle Mark to call off the next serial number. Uncle
Mark had only called off ten serial numbers when Grant
pushed his face between the bars of the cell.

"That's enough," he shouted. "You've got us cold. But
I wouldn't have gone in on it if I'd known there was going
to be any shooting."

Eggerson was the next to crack. "Me neither," he said.
"Sam and Hutch planned the whole thing but promised
there would be no shooting."

Ludell then grabbed the bars of his cell and pushed his
face against two of the bars. "I admit Hutch and I planned
it," he said. "But Hutch promised there would be no shoot-
ing. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him kill Simpson
in cold blood. The man didn't reach for a gun or anything.
I'll turn state's evidence."

After Ludell said that, Hutchinson knew the game was
up. "I had to kill him," he said. "I forgot all about that

75                                     i




damn scar. I saw Simpson staring at it, and when he called
me Hutch I knew he'd recognized me." Then he backed up
and slumped down on the bunk in his cell, "I didn't want to
kill him but I had to."

Sheriff Baker looked at Curly Davis. "That leaves just
you," he said.

Davis stared at the sheriff for a moment and then looked
at District Attorney Vickers. "If I plead guilty will I get a
lighter sentence?" he asked.

District Attorney Vickers thought for a moment and
then spoke. "To save the state the expense of a trial," he
said, "I am willing to let four of you plead guilty to armed
robbery and Hutchinson plead guilty to second degree mur-
der. If you stand trial we have enough evidence to convict
four of you as accessories to murder and send you to prison
for life and enough evidence to see Hutchinson hang."

All five of them said they would plead guilty and signed
confessions. On Monday morning Judge Potter sentenced
Eggerson, Grant. Davis, and Ludell to twenty years in prison
and Hutchinson to life.

I thought Tom would be very disappointed when he
found out the Bruford Brothers weren't going to give any
reward. I guess they figured Sheriff Baker and Uncle Mark
were just doing their duty. Instead, on the day he found out
there would be no reward he was whistling as we did the
evening chores.

"I don't know how you can be so cheerful," I said. "If
I were in your shoes I'd be so mad I could chew up railroad
rails and spit out spikes."

"Simmer down, J.D.," he said. "Before I put my great
brain to work on the train robbery and murder I made sure
I'd get a reward if I solved the crime."

76

"Well," I said, "the Bruford Brothers sure as heck aren't
going to give you a reward according to Sheriff Baker and
Uncle Mark."

"You are forgetting the railroad," Tom said grinning.
"Remember me telling you after lunch last Tuesday that
I was going to the depot to talk to Mr. Larson before going
back to school?"

"You said you wanted to talk to him about the train
robbery/' I said.

"Right," Tom said.
"Right what?" I asked.

"Yeah," said Frankie, who had been listening. "Right
what?"

"I asked Mr. Larson if the railroad paid any reward
money for train robbers," Tom said, "He told me there was
a standing reward of five hundred dollars for the arrest and
conviction of train robbers. Sheriff Baker will get the reward
because the train robbery took place in the county under his
jurisdiction. And Sheriff Baker isn't the kind of a man who
goes back on his word."

"So," I said, "that is why you made him promise you
all the reward money if you solved the train robbery and
murder."

"Right," Tom-said with a grin so wide I thought it
would split his face-

"What are you going to do with all that money?" I
asked-

"Put it in the bank where it will draw interest," Tom
said as he rubbed the palms of his hands together.

And, oh, how his money-loving heart must have been

x
singing.

77

CHAPTER FIVE

Tom the Magician

IT WAS JUST A FEW DAYS after Tom had received

the five-hundred dollar reward that the Chautauqua came to
town. Once a year people like Mayor Whitlock, Bishop Aden,
Reverend Holcomb, Papa, Mamma, and Mrs. Vinson believed
the citizens of Adenville needed a little cultural entertain-
ment. The money to pay for the Chautauqua was raised by
selling tickets before it arrived. It was a way of guaranteeing
there would be enough money to pay for the cultural enter-
tainment. I always sort of figured this selling of tickets was
almost like blackmail because anybody who refused to buy
a ticket would be considered uncultured and an ignoramus.
About the only thing I enjoyed about a Chautauqua was

78

watching them put up the tent at the campground. I guess
that made me uncultured. But let me tell you what a Chau-
tauqua was like in those days and see if you don't agree with
me. They always had a fellow who played a fiddle but not
like anybody in town played one. They called it classical
music, but all it ever sounded like to me was a fellow prac-
ticing the scales. And there was always a man or woman who
recited poetry the likes of which had never been heard in
Adenville. I doubt if three people in the audience under-
stood what the poems were about. And they had singers. But
did they sing good old songs like "My Old Kentucky Home"
or "Sweet Adeline"? Heck, no. Papa said they sang arias from
operas, which was enough to convince me that I'd never
spend any money going to an opera. The singing was bad
enough, but they made it worse by always singing in a
foreign language. Then they would have a man or woman
who read passages from classical literature- That was the silli-
est thing of all. It didn't make sense" unless you knew the
whole story and the only time that happened was when a man
read some passages from A Christmas Carol by Dickens. But
he spoiled it by reading some passage from a Greek play
written hundreds of years ago next. Sometimes they would
act out a scene from one of Shakespeare's plays. And some-
times a fellow would play solos on a cornet. I must admit
there was one time they had Swiss bell ringers which I en-
joyed. They had a lot of different sounding bells on a table,
and by ringing them they could play a tune.

The Chautauqua we had this year was the worst yet tor
my money. But rather than let anybody know they didn't
understand or appreciate the classical stuff, everybody ap-
plauded. There was one woman who must have scared every
dog in town. I mentioned her to Tom as we sat on the corral

79

fence with Frankie the next morning after doing our chores-

"My ears are still ringing from that big fat woman
screaming at the Chautauqua last night," I said.

"She was a soprano," Tom said. "That is the highest
pitch a human voice can have."

"Why anybody would pay money to hear a woman like
that beats me," I said. "The next Chautauqua that comes to
town I'm going to pretend I'm sick and can't go."

"You know, J.D.," Tom said, "you are right in a way. I
doubt if any kid in town enjoyed the Chautauqua. But you've
given me an idea. I'm going to put on a magic show because
I'm getting a little short of cash."

Tom's saying he was getting short of cash was like a dog
all alone in a butcher shop complaining there wasn't enough
meat.

"What do you mean by a magic show?" I asked.

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"When I was at the Academy last year Father Rodriguez
took all of us students to the Salt Lake Theater twice," Tom
said. "Once was for a vaudeville show. Two of the best acts
were the Mental Marvel, a mind-reading act, and Murdock
the Magician. My great brain figured out how the Mental
Marvel and his assistant faked the mind-reading act. But the
magic tricks Murdock the Magician performed stumped me."

"He wouldn't come to a small town like Adenville," I
said.

"Of course not," Tom said. "But 1 told Father Rodri-
guez my great brain had to know everything. He let me buy
a book on how to do magic tricks, I studied it and found out
how Murdock the Magician did some of his tricks. How
much would you pay to see a magic show?"

"I've never seen a magic show," I said, "so how would

80

I know how much I would pay?"

"I'll give you an example," Tom said as he took a hand-
kerchief from his pocket. "What if I told you this wasn't a
handkerchief but a hen that could lay eggs?"

"I'd say your great brain is as scrambled as scrambled
eggs," I answered and laughed because I thought that was
funny and so did Frankie.

But not Tom- "All I'm asking you," he said serious as
he could be, "is if I could show you a trick like that and a
few other magic tricks, how much would you pay to see a
magic show?"

"I'd gladly pay a dime to see a handkerchief lay an
egg," I said and laughed some more because I thought that
was even funnier and so did Frankie.

Tom put the handkerchief back in his pocket. "A dime,"
he said.-"If I could get fifty kids'at ten cents each that would
amount to five dollars. I'll put my great brain to work on it
right away and start rehearsing for my magic act."

For the next two days after school Tom took his book
on magic and some things he wouldn't let me see up to his
loft in the barn. He said he had to rehearse his magic act.

Thursday after school Tom said he needed a large
wooden box to use as a table for his magic act. Frankie and I
went with him to the Z.C.M.I, store taking along Frankie's
wagon. The full name of the store was Zion's Cooperative
Mercantile Institution. There were stores like this, which
were owned by the Mormon church, in all Utah towns and
cities. Tom asked Mr. Harmon if he could have one of the
big wooden shipping boxes in back of the store. Mr. Harmon
told Tom to help himself-




Tom picked out a wooden box large enough to use as a

81

table. I helped him lift it on t6 Frankie's wagon. Then Tom
picked up a cardboard box and tossed it inside the wooden
one. When we got to the barn we laid the box upside down
after Tom had removed the cardboard carton. Tom sent me
to the house to get Frankie's set of crayons. By the time I re-
turned he had cut two pieces of cardboard from the carton.
He used them and a black crayon to make two signs which
read:

SEE ADENVILLE'S FIRST MAGIC SHOW
SUNDAY 2:00 P.M. * FITZGERALD BARN
ADMISSION 10f1
SATISFACTION GUARANTEED
OR YOUR MONEY BACK.

Tom got a hammer and some tacks from the tool shed.
He tacked one of the signs near the door of our barn. Then
we went to the post office where he tacked the other sign
to a tree in front of the building.

"What's the idea?" I asked. "Every kid in town will know
about the magic show without any signs."

"I got to thinking," Tom said. "There are plenty of
grownups who have never seen a magic show in Adenville.
Maybe some of them will come too."

Papa always stopped at the post office to get the mail
from our box before coming home for supper. He must have
seen the sign because he stared at Tom with a suspicious look
when he entered the parlor.

"I saw the sign for your magic show," he said. "Don't
tell me that you are backsliding and this is another of your
great brain's schemes to swindle people."

Tom looked as if Papa had accused him of robbing the
bank. "How can it be a swindle when I guarantee satisfaction

82




or your money back?" he asked. "I know if I'd never seen a
magic show that I'd gladly pay a dime to see one."

"A magic show, yes," Papa said. "But magic acts are
performed by professional magicians."

"I may not be a professional," Tom said, "but with my
great brain I can do some tricks as good as any professional.
And if you don't believe me come and see for yourself."

Then Tom told Papa about Murdock the Magician and
the book on magic tricks he had bought. Papa was so relieved
to find out that Tom wasn't backsliding that he offered to
help.

"You will need seats for the audience," he said. "I'll get
Mr, Hoffman at the lumber yard to lend us some planks we
can lay on bales of hay."

"Thanks, Papa," Tom said. "But I sure wish I had a
high silk hat to use for one of my tricks."

"Your mother knows where my plug hat is," Papa said.
"Tell her I said you could use it."

Tom should have charged admission to the barn on
Saturday morning. Papa and Uncle Mark came into the cor-
ral with my uncle's team and wagon. They had a load of
planks loaned to them by Mr. Hoffman. About twenty kids
kept getting in their way as they laid the planks on bales
of hay, but they finally had six rows of seats for the audience.
While they were doing this Tom and I put up a curtain in
front of the box table. We used a piece of clothes line and
an old sheet Mamma had given my brother.

The next day Tom asked Mamma to serve Sunday din-
ner an hour early to give him time to get ready for the magic
show. We were all finished eating by one o'clock.

"I've got to get my props ready now," Tom said as he

83

stood up to excuse himself from the table.

"Just a moment," Mamma said. "When I got your
father's high silk hat out I noticed his evening cloak. During
our honeymoon in Denver we saw a magician perform at a
vaudeville show. He wore a full dress suit, a high silk hat,
and an evening cloak. You'll find the cloak and hat in my
clothes closet."

"Thanks, Mamma," Tom said.

Frankie and I went with Tom into Mamma's bedroom.
He got the plug hat and the evening cloak that was black silk
on the outside and lined with white silk on the inside. We went
to the barn. Tom put the cloak and hat on the box table,
Then he and I climbed up the rope ladder to his loft. He
handed me a cigar box, an alarm clock, and a steel bar about
two feet long and half an inch thick. He picked up a shoe
box and then we climbed down the rope ladder.

Tom opened the shoe box and removed a candleholder
with a candle in it, a half-open box of kitchen matches, a
steel ring about an inch in diameter, and a red bandanna
handkerchief, which he laid out on the box table. He took
the shoe box and went back up to his loft. When he returned
I asked him what was in the shoe box.

"You'll find out during the show," he said. "Now, J.D.,
I'm going to hire you to collect admissions, and remember
no credit or promises. Keep the money in the cigar box."

"What am I supposed to do with the alarm clock?" I
asked.

"You will need it to know what time it is," he answered.
"I've got it all set. Don't open the barn doors until a quarter
to two. At one minute to two you close the bam doors and
bring the cigar box and alarm clock backstage."

"Where is backstage?" I asked.

84

"Behind the curtain," Tom said. "Then you step around
in front of the curtain and say, 'I am proud to present Aden-
ville's first magic show with that great conjurer, T.D. Fitz-
gerald.' "

"What's a conjurer?" I asked.

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"A magician," Tom said as if disgusted.

"Then why don't I say magician?" I asked. "None of
the kids will know what a conjurer is any more than I did."

"I can't help that/' Tom said. "Conjurer sounds more
mysterious."

"What do I get for collecting admissions and introduc-
ing you?" I asked because I wanted some guarantee before
the show started.

"I'll pay you twenty-five cents," Tom answered.

"What if nobody comes?" I asked. "Will I-still get the
quarter?"

"If you are low-down enough to take it," Tom said.
"Now get going."

I sure as heck didn't have to be low-down to take the
quarter. By one thirty I was regretting that I hadn't driven
a harder bargain. The show wasn't due to start until two
o'clock but there were already about twenty kids in the
corral. And by the time I opened the bam doors and began
collecting admissions just about every boy in town was there,
along with five girls and six adults. Tom was going to make
a fortune.

Most of the customers had paid and were in the barn
when I saw Papa, Mamma, Aunt Bertha, Aunt Cathie, and
Uncle Mark come into the corral. Boy, oh, boy, what a spot
that put me in. Should I charge our own family to see the
show or let them in free? I knew if I let them in free what

85

Tom would say with his money-loving heart. He would say I
should have charged them fifty cents. Then he would say
that because I let them in free, instead of him owing me
twenty-five cents, I owed him a quarter. Papa solved my
problem by handing me fifty cents.

I waited until one minute to two and then entered the
barn and shut the door. I went "backstage" as Tom called
it. He was peeking through a hole he had cut in the sheet
curtain. He turned and looked at me the way a hungry
horse would look at a manger full of oats.

"We are playing to a full house," he said grinning. "The
seats are all filled and there are even some adults standing
up. How do I look?"

He had on Papa's evening cloak and high silk hat, which
was pressing down on his ears.

"I don't know if you look like a magician or not," I said,
"because I've never seen one."

Tom took the cigar box and alarm clock- from me and
placed them behind the box table. "All right, J.D.," he
said, "make your announcement and then draw the curtain."

I stepped around in front of the curtain. "I am proud
to present Adenville's first magic show," I said, "with that
great conjurer, T.D. Fitzgerald." Then I couldn't help add-
ing, "For the benefit of you kids who don't know what a
conjurer is, it is the same as a magician."

1 didn't see anything funny about it, but Papa and some
of the other adults laughed. They all stopped laughing when
I pulled the curtain over and revealed the great conjurer
himself, Tom stood behind the box table wearing the high
silk hat and evening cloak with his arms folded on his chest.
Everybody in the audience began to applaud, and he hadn't
even done anything yet.

86

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom said when the applause
died down, "is the hand quicker than the eye? Some people
say Yes and some say No. Do conjurers have supernatural
powers that enable them to perform feats of magic? Some
people say Yes and some say No. Today I am going to let you
decide the answers to these two questions yourself by per-
forming three of the most difficult magic tricks known."

Tom removed the high silk hat and held it so the au-
dience could see inside it. Then he laid it on the table. He
removed the evening cloak and showed the audience the in-
side and outside before putting it back on.

"You have seen there is nothing in the hat," Tom said.
"And you have seen there are no hidden pockets in the
cloak." He then rolled the sleeves of his shirt up above his
elbows and left them there- "You can also plainly see, ladies
and gentlemen, that I have nothing up my sleeves." He held
up his hands with fingers spread apart showing the back and
palm of both hands. "And you can plainly see that I have
nothing concealed in my hands. I will now proceed to do my
first magic trick by turning the flame of a candle into a red
handkerchief."

Tom picked up the half-open box of kitchen matches.
He removed a match with his right hand and then closed the
box. He put the box of matches on the box table and then
lit the match on the side of it. He used the match to light
the candle in the candleholder with his right hand. Then he
held the doubled up fist of his left hand above the flame of
the candle.

"Abracadabra, abracadabra," he chanted. "Flame of can-
dle enter my fist and become a red handkerchief when I blow
you out."

Tom blew out the candle. Then he held up his left fist.

88

He opened his fingers slightly. Then using his right thumb
and index finger he drew a red handkerchief from his left
fist. He waved it back and forth and then placed it on the
table.

Everybody in the audience applauded except some kids
who were so bug-eyed with astonishment they just sat there
staring with their mouths open.

Tom put the candle and box of matches behind the box
table. Then he held up the shoe box sideways.

"I know you are all wondering what I've got in this
shoe box," he said. "I will tell you. I have a magic hen in this
shoe box whose name is Henrietta."

The audience laughed.

"Please don't laugh," Tom said, very serious. "If you
hurt Henrietta's feelings she might refuse to lay an egg for
me."

The audience laughed some more.

Tom put the shoe box down. He picked up Papa's high
silk hat and showed the audience the inside-

"As you can see the hat is empty," he said as he put it
back down. "I will now get Henrietta to lay an egg in the

hat."

He took the lid off the shoe box and stared inside. Then

he faced the audience.

"Now look what you have done," he said. "You hurt
Henrietta's feelings by laughing at her. I told you she was a
magic hen. She has cast a spell over the audience so you will
think you are seeing just a plain old white handkerchief in-
stead of a hen."

Tom reached into the shoe box and held up a white
handkerchief by two corners. "I know this looks like a white
handkerchief to you," he said. "But I am actually holding

89

Henrietta in my hands. I will prove she is a real hen by mak-
ing her lay an egg in the hat."

Tom placed the handkerchief over Papa's hat which was
turned upside down. "All right, Henrietta," he said, "lay me
an egg like a good hen."

Everybody started to laugh.

"Come on, Henrietta," Tom pleaded. "Please lay me an
egg."

It was so comical, Tom's talking to a handkerchief as if
it were a hen that understood English, everybody laughed
some more.

"All right, Henrietta," Tom said looking angry, "if that
is the way you want to be. You lay me an egg right now or
I'll have my mother make a chicken stew out of you."

That made the audience roar with laughter.

Tom held up his hands for silence. "Quiet please," he
said as he bent his head closer to the hat. "She's cackling and
clucking now. She is going to lay me an egg. She did it!"

People in the audience were now laughing so hard some
of them were holding their sides. But not for long. Tom
peeled the handkerchief back holding it and the brim of the
hat. He kept the hat in plain sight as he walked around in
front of the box table. Then he tipped the hat so everybody
in the audience could see inside. And lying in the hat was a
white egg.

Tom walked in back of the box table. He put the hat
down. He picked up the handkerchief by two corners and
carefully put it back in the shoe box.

"Don't cry, Henrietta." he said. "I was just joking about
making a chicken stew out of you."

The audience, which had been stunned into silence
when they saw the egg inside the hat, now began to applaud

90




and whistle. Tom put the lid on the shoe box and placed it
behind the box table. He took several bows and then held

up his hands for silence.

"I have saved the most difficult of all magic tricks for
last," he said. "But this trick can't be done unless I'm wear-
ing the magic hat." He picked up the hat.

"The egg!" I and about twenty other kids yelled at the

same time.

Tom didn't pay any attention to us. He put the high
silk hat on his head. I expected to see egg yolk running from
under the hat and down Tom's face, and so did everybody
else in the audience. There was a dead silence when nothing
happened. Finally Danny Forester cupped his hands to his
mouth and shouted from the rear of the audience.
"What happened to the egg?" he yelled.
Tom removed the plug hat and held it so the audience
could see inside it. "What egg?" he asked, looking as inno-
cent as he could be.

"The egg that was in the hat!" Danny shouted-
"Oh, that egg," Tom said. "I knew I had to use the
magic hat for my next trick so I made it disappear."

That got almost as much applause as the original egg
trick. Tom put the hat back on and picked up the steel bar
and steel ring from the box table. He rapped the ring
against the steel bar making a clinking sound. Then he

motioned to me to take the steel bar.

"My assistant will now pass among the audience and
allow you to examine the steel bar," he said. "I want you to

make sure it is a solid piece of steel."

A dozen kids insisted on examining the steel bar and so
did Seth Smith's father and Don Huddle the blacksmith.
Tom used his handkerchief to blow his nose while this was

91

going on. When I returned the steel bar to him he took hold
of the end of it with his right hand and then handed me the
steel ring with his left hand.

"My assistant will now pass among you," he said, "and
let you examine the steel ring to make sure it is a solid steel
ring."

While I was doing this Tom slid the steel bar so he was
holding it with his right hand around the middle. Again Mr-
Smith and Mr. Huddle examined the steel ring, along with
about twenty kids. When I returned it to Tom he held it up
with the thumb and index finger of his left hand.

"I will now ask for two volunteers from the audience,"
he said, "to help me perform the impossible. How about you,
Basil, and you, Danny?"

Tom then came around from behind the box table
holding the steel bar in one hand and the steel ring in the
other hand. He told Danny to stand on one side of him and
Basil on the other side.

"Now, Danny," he said, "pick up that red bandanna
handkerchief on the table and drape it over my right hand
holding the steel bar."

Tom waited until the bandanna had been placed over
his right hand covering it from view. "Now, Danny," he
said, "you take hold of one end of the steel bar with your
right hand, and Basil, you take hold of the other end with
your left hand."

Both boys took a firm grip on the steel bar. Tom held
up the steel ring in his left hand.

"There is no way I can put the steel ring around the
steel bar without using magic powers." he said.

Then he placed his left hand and the steel ring under

92

the red bandanna handkerchief. "Abracadabra, abracadabra,"
he chanted. "Using all my magic powers, I now command
the steel bar to part in the middle so I can put the steel ring

around it."

I think everybody in the audience held their breath as

Tom stood staring at the red bandanna handkerchief.

"Abracadabra, abracadabra," Tom chanted. "I now com-
mand the steel bar to join itself together so nobody will ever
know it parted to let me put the ring around it."

Again there was dead silence for a moment. "Abraca-
dabra, abracadabra," Tom chanted. "I now command the
steel ring to spin on the steel bar when I count to three and
remove my hands and the bandanna handerkerchief. One,

two, three!"

On the count of three Tom removed his hands jerking

the bandanna handkerchief quickly away from the steel bar.
I thought my own eyes and the eyes of everybody in the au-
dience were going to pop right out of our heads. The steel
ring was around the steel bar and spinning.

Tom laid the bandanna handkerchief down on the box
table. Then he used his own handkerchief to wipe his tore-
head. For my money, his whole body should have been
wringing wet with sweat after pulling a magic trick like that.

Danny and Basil were still holding the steel bar. Danny's
left eyelid which was usually half closed was wide open, and
so was his mouth. Basil kept blinking his eyes as he stared at
the steel bar and steel ring as if he couldn't believe them.
Finally Danny recovered enough to speak.

"I still don't believe it," he said.

"Examine the steel bar and ring all you want," Tom

said.

93

Danny let go of the steel liar and removed the ring. He
stared at the ring for a moment and then put it in his mouth
and bit on it.

"Ouch!" he yelled.

Then Basil took the .steel bar and tried to bend it but
couldn't.

Mr. Smith and Mr. Huddle came up to the box table.
They both examined the steel bar and steel ring and then
walked back to their seats shaking their heads.

All of this time the audience had been silent with as-
tonishment. Then somebody began to applaud, and every-
body joined in.

Tom took several bows and then held up his hands for
silence. "Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen," he
said. "That concludes Adenville's first magic show- I can tell
from your applause that all of you are satisfied you got your
money's worth."

That was a clever thing for Tom to say. A kid who had
been applauding and whistling would have to have a coconut
for a head to say he wasn't satisfied and wanted his money
back. But I could tell by how excited they looked as they
left the barn that they were all more than satisfied. Tom
waited until everybody had left except Frankie and me and
then counted the money in the cigar box. He had five dollars
and forty cents. He gave me the quarter he had promised.
But all that money made me a little greedy I guess.

"That pays me for collecting admissions and introduc-
ing you," I said. "Now how about paying me for acting as
your assistant? That ought to be worth another quarter."

"You've got cabbages in your head," Tom said. "By
rights I should make you pay me for letting you be my as-
sistant. There isn't a kid in town who wouldn't have jumped

94

at the chance to be my assistant and get to see the show free."

I knew he was right. "That is a lot of money for putting
on a magic show," I said. "But I'll bet the kids would pay
even more to see how you did all those tricks."

"I thought about doing just that," Tom said. "But my

great brain said No."

"Why?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?" Frankie said.

"If I showed the kids how the tricks were done," Tom
said, "they would know they had been tricked by sleight of
hand. And knowing they had been tricked, some soreheads
among them would start yelling I'd swindled them and de-
mand their money back. But- as long as they think I per-
formed the tricks by magic none of them can claim they were

swindled."

"But you were just putting on a magic show," I said.

"I'll bet none of the customers at the Salt Lake Theater

k

claimed Murdock the Magician had swindled them and de-
manded their money back."

"Murdock the Magician and I are two different people,"

Tom said. "He is a professional magician. I'm a fellow who
must watch his P's and (?'s with everybody just waiting to

catch me backsliding."

"How about showing Just Frankie and me how you did

the tricks if we promise never to tell?" I asked.

"And also us," Papa's voice made us all turn around.

"We waited until everybody had left."

We hadn't heard Papa, Uncle Mark, Mr. Smith, and Mr.

Huddle enter the barn.

"I'm sorry," Tom said as he hugged the cigar box with

both hands, "but I can't."

"If you are worrying about me making you refund the

95

admission money forget it," Papa said. "You put on a good
show, and it was worth every penny you charged to see it."

"In that case," Tom said, "I'll show you."

He put down the cigar box and picked up the box of
kitchen matches and the candle in its holder from behind
the box table. He set the candleholder down. Then he
pushed the box of kitchen matches half open. He picked up
the red handkerchief and rolled it up into a ball and placed
it in the opposite end of the open box of matches-

"I never let the audience see this end of the box of
matches where the red handkerchief is hidden," Tom said.
"And after I removed a match with my right hand I pushed
the matchbox closed which forced the rolied-up handkerchief
into the palm of my left hand. I palmed the handkerchief
in my left fist."

"I guessed that much," Papa said. "But the other two
tricks baffled me."

Tom removed the high silk hat he was still wearing and
placed it upside down on the box table. He got the shoe box
and placed it sideways on the table. He removed the lid and
lifted out the white handkerchief, holding it by two corners.

"I only let the audience see one side of the handker-
chief," he said. Then he crossed his arms and turned the
handkerchief around. "The audience never saw this side."

Up close I could see a piece of white thread sewn to the
top hem of the handkerchief and an egg hanging just below
the middle of the handkerchief on the other end of the
thread.

"I know you are wondering about the egg," Tom said.
"But it is just an empty shell- I used a needle to punch a
hole in each end. Then by blowing softly on one end I was
able to blow the contents inside the shell out the hole on the

96




other end. Then I took some white glue and pasted the end
of the thread to the top of the eggshell."

Tom turned the handkerchief around so we couldn't see
the eggshell. Then he laid the handkerchief over the plug
hat just as he had done before the audience.

"The trick is to lift up the handkerchief by the two
corners opposite the ones I was holding when I put it over
the hat," he explained. He took hold of the two opposite
corners and lifted them up. "You can see that leaves the egg-
shell lying on the bottom of the hat. Then by holding the
opposite end of the handkerchief from where the thread is
sewn to the hem, and taking hold of the brim of the hat, I
can show the eggshell in the hat to the audience- I know
from that distance they can't see the white thread against the
white silk lining inside the hat."

Tom placed the hat back on the table and covered it
with the handkerchief. "Now the trick is when I pick up the
handkerchief I take hold of the two earners where the thread
is sewn to the hem." He took hold of the two comers and
lifted up the handkerchief. "Holding it this way to put it
back in the shoe box the audience can't see the eggshell on

the opposite side."

Papa shook his head as Tom put the handkerchief and
eggshell back in the shoe box. "Sounds simple when you
know how it is done," he said- "Did you make up that
dialogue about Henrietta? It was funny and clever."

"No," Tom admitted. "Some of it I remembered Mur-
dock the Magician using. I just made up that part about let-
ting Mamma make stewed chicken out of Henrietta."

Don Huddle picked up the steel bar from the table- "As
a blacksmith who works with metal," he said, "I thought
that last trick was the best of all. But I can't for the life of

97

me figure out how you did it."

"It was easier than the egg trick," Tom said. "I got two
identical bridle rings from Mr. Stout at his saddle and
harness shop. While J.D. was letting the audience examine
the steel bar I pretended to blow my nose."

Tom removed his handkerchief and blew his nose and
then returned it to his pocket. He then showed us a steel
ring he had palmed under the thumb of his right hand.

"That is how I got the duplicate ring into my right
hand," he said. "When J.D. handed me the steel bar I slipped
the duplicate ring over it while the audience was examining
the other steel ring. Then I slid the ring to the middle of the
bar covering it with my fist."

Mr. Huddle scratched his chin. "How did you get rid of
the other ring?" he asked.

"When I put my left hand under the bandanna hand-
kerchief," Tom said, "I palmed the other ring. And when I
drew my hands and the bandanna away from the steel bar, I
laid the bandanna on the box table. Then I used my hand-
kerchief to wipe sweat from my forehead and put the other
ring in my pocket."      '

I had a question to ask. "How did you make the ring
spin on the steel bar?"

"By jerking the bandanna handkerchief away quickly,"
Tom answered.

Mr. Huddle shook his head. "You had me- completely
buffaloed on that one, Tom," he said. "Thanks for showing
me how it was done. I wouldn't have been able to sleep
nights trying to figure it out."

"You haven't seen anything yet," Tom said. "In my
next magic show I'm going to saw J.D. in half."

"Oh, no, you aren't," Papa said. "We will leave the saw-

98

ing of people in halt to the professional magicians- I don't
want you practicing any dangerous tricks with your brother.
And just to make sure you don't, I think you should leave
well enough alone and forget about any more magic shows.
We will all keep your confidence and not reveal how you did
the magic tricks today. But this is the end of your career as
a magician. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Papa," Tom said,

I didn't blame Tom for looking plumb disgusted as
Papa, Mr. Smith, Mr. Huddle, and Uncle Mark left the barn.

"Papa is such a worry wart at times," he said. "I saw
Murdock the Magician saw a woman in half. It is Just an illu-
sion and it tells how to do it in my magic book."

"Put me down as a worry wart too," I said. "The day I
let you practice sawing me in half I'll have onions growing'
out of my head instead of hair."

"But I .told you it is just an illusion," Tom said.

"I don't care what you call it," I said. ."I'm not a fellow
who is going to take a chance of having his hips and legs
running around this barn looking for the rest of his body
because the trick doesn't work."

Frankie began laughing. "That would be lunny," he
said.

"You call that funny?" I asked.

"Yeah." Frankie said. Then he bent over and began
running around inside the barn yelling, "Where's the rest of
my body?"

That made Tom and me both laugh.

The fellows began pestering Turn so much wanting to
know how he did the magic tricks, he had to tell them a lie
to stop it. He said Murdock the Magician had taught him
magic and he had promised never to reveal how it is done.




99

CHAPTER SIX

Puppy Love

REPORT CARDS CAME OUT once a month. We re-
ceived our first, for the month of September, a few days
after Tom had put on his magic show. As expected. The
Great Brain got all A's. I got one A and only one C and the
rest were £'s, which was darn good for a fellow with a little
bra-in. Frankie got good marks in everything.

The day after we received our report cards Tom, Frankie,
and I did our homework on the dining room table. Then
we went into the parlor. Papa looked up from the weekly
mail edition of the New York World he was reading.
"How is your teacher coming along, T.D.?" he asked.
"Mr. Monroe is doing just fine." Tom said- "Since he

100

got over his nervousness those first few days, he is a good

teacher."

"Nels Larson doesn't think so," Papa said. "Knowing 1
am on the board of directors for the Academy, he dropped in
at the Advocate office today. He told me he was very disap-
pointed that his son Greg got such low marks on his report
card. Greg attended a Mormon boarding school in Provo last
year for the seventh grade. His grades were excellent. Mr.
Larson said his son blamed the poor marks he got at the
Academy this first month on Mr. Monroe's being a poor

teacher."

"That is a big fib," Tom said. "Sally Aune Carver is

responsible for Greg's poor grades."

Mamma dropped her crocheting into her lap. "What has
Sally Anne Carver got to do with Greg Larson's poor grades?"
she asked.

"He doesn't pay attention in class," Tom said. "All he
does is sit and stare at Sally Anne. She has got poor Greg
completely hypnotized with her giggling."

"Surely," Mamma said, "Mr. Monroe doesn't permit
giggi ing in school."

"Of course not," Tom said. "But every time Greg goes
by her home she runs to the front gate and swings on it and
giggles. And she giggles at him during recess and every time
she sees him. My great brain figured out a long time ago
that giggling is how a girl puts a spell on a fellow."

I don't know why, but that made Mamma, Papa, and
Aunt Bertha laugh. Every rime a girl looked at me and
started giggling I stuck my fingers in my ears.

"It isn't funny," Tom said. "Greg wants to be a railroad
stationmaster like his father. But if he fails in school he
won't be able to go away to high school next year. Next




thing you know poor old Greg will be so hynotized he'll be
going over to sit on the front porch swing with Sally Anne."

"You are right," Papa said. "Puppy love isn't funny. It
can be a very serious thing in a boy's or girl's life. I remem-
ber my first case of puppy love when I was about Greg's age.
Her name was Agnes Murphy."

Mamma stared at Papa. "And just who was Agnes Mur-
phy?" she asked, rather sharply I thought.

"I was only fourteen at the time," Papa protested.

"Answer the question," Mamma said.

"I thought she was the prettiest girl in Boylestown,
Pennsylvania," Papa said smiling. "I do believe you are
jealous, Tena."                                         „

"I'm jealous of every girl you ever knew," Mamma said,
but she was smiling when she said it.

Tom folded his arms on his chest. "How do you break a
spell a girl puts on a boy with her giggling?" he asked.

I was dumbfounded. It was one of the very few times I'd
ever heard Tom admit that his great brain didn't know
everything.

"Puppy love is just something you outgrow," Papa said.
"Well, Greg better outgrow it pretty darn soon." Tom
said, "or he is going to fail in school. I guess I'll have to put
my great brain to work on how to break the spell before that
happens. I like Greg."

One thing I could never figure out was what girls were
good for. Today boys and girls play together, and girls play
all the games boys do. But back in those days things were
different. It was a disgrace for a boy to have anything to do
with a girl until he was sixteen or he was called a sissy. And
girls didn't play any of the games boys did like baseball,
football, leapfrog, or kick-the-can. All they did was play hop-

102




scotch and jacks, play house, play with dolls, skip rope, and
things like that.

Sweyn had disgraced Tom, Frankie, and me by starting
to go with Marie Vinson after his first year at the Jesuit
Academy when he was only thirteen. He had to whip three
boys for calling him a sissy. Nobody called him a sissy after
that, but that didn't stop the shame and disgrace I felt. The
only time us boys had anything to do with girls was at birth-
day parties. We had to go to theirs and invite them to ours
because our parents made us.

What Greg saw in Sally Anne Carver was a mystery to
me. She was just a girl. Being a fellow who prided himself on
never having anything to do with girls I didn't know if she
was pretty or not. I'll admit she wasn't knock-kneed, bow-
legged, or pigeon-toed, which I guess was in her favor. But
she was just a silly girl like all the rest. I felt sorry for Mr.
Carver because he had three daughters and no sons. With
nothing but females running around the house Mr. Carver
would have been driven to drink if he weren't a Mormon.
Their religion forbids them to drink any kind of alcoholic

beverage.

And I couldn't figure out why any girl would want to
put a spell on a fellow like Greg. He had buckteeth that
hung over his lower lip. His blond hair grew forward instead
of backward, coming down over his eyes like a sheep dog's.
Poor old Greg. Only Tom's great brain could save him from

a fate worse than drink or death.
*

The following Saturday morning I started for Smith's
vacant lot with Tom and Frankie to play. The Carver home
was on Main Street just two blocks from our house. When
we arrived at the corner we all stopped and stood staring
bug-eyed. Greg was showing off on his bike in front of the

103

Carver home. Sally Anne was swinging on the front gate
watching him and giggling. Greg rode by the house without
using the handlebars on the bike.

Tom motioned for me and Frankie to follow him down
a side street. "My great brain has a plan to save Greg," he
said. "Come on."

We ran all the way to Smith's vacant lot where Tom
gathered the fellows around him.

"Sally Anne has got poor old Greg completely hypno-
tized," Tom told the fellows. "She's got him so much under
her spell that he is failing in school. It is up to us to save
him."

Danny's left eye lid flipped open. "And how do we do
that?" he asked.

"My great brain has figured out a way to break the
spell," Tom said. "Greg is showing off on his bike in front
of her house right now. We go there and when I give the
signal we all run into the street and begin shouting, 'Greg's
got a girl,' over and over again. That should make him so
ashamed and humiliated it will break the spell."

We all followed Tom at a run to the side street leading
off Main Street- Tom peeked around the corner.

"Greg is at the other end of the block turning around,"
Tom said. "When he starts back and gets in front of Sally
Anne's house we will all run out and start shouting. Get
ready. Here he comes. Now, fellows!"

Greg was riding his bike standing with one foot on the
seat, his other leg stuck out behind him over the rear wheel,
and his body bent over his hands on the handlebars as we ran
into the street.

We all began to shout as we ran towards him, "Greg's got
a girl," over and over again. He was so surprised that he fell

104

off his bil^e- We formed a circle around him and continued
to shout, "Greg's got a girl!"

He was so ashamed and humiliated his face was the
color of red-hot coals. You would think a girl with any pity
would have run into the house. But not Sally Anne. She
just stood by the'front gate giggling as if she enjoyed Greg's
humiliation. I thought for sure Greg would pick up his bike
and get as far away from Sally Anne as possible. Instead he
picked up the bike and wheeled it over and leaned it against
the Carvers' front fence. And I'll be a six-legged mule if he
didn't walk up to Sally Anne and begin talking to her. We
all stopped shouting and looked at Tom. Parley Benson
pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.

"Your great brain's plan only made it worse," he said.
"She is keeping him under her spell with her giggling,"

Tom said.

Danny shook his head, "Then your great brain better
figure out a way to stop Sally Anne from giggling," he said.

And then came positive proof that a girl can hypnotize
a fellow with her giggling. Sally Anne opened the gate. She
put her hand in the crook of Greg's elbow and the two of
them began walking down Main Street bold as brass. We
were all as surprised as a hen who hatches a turkey egg.
Parley was first to speak.

"I wonder where they are going," he said.

"Only one way to find out," Tom said.

We followed Greg and Sally Anne to the drugstore
where we pressed our faces against the window to watch.
Sammy Leeds was working behind the soda fountain. He
stared at Greg and Sally Anne as if they we're two dogs who
had sat down at the counter and asked to be served. He kept
blinking his eyes as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing

105

as he prepared two chocolate ice cream sodas and placed them
on the counter.

Parley shook his head. "He's a gonner for sure," he said.

Did Tom give up? Heck, no.

"Maybe my great brain can save him yet," he said.

Danny rammed a finger into Tom's chest. "Your great
brain has made the spell ten times worse," he said. "When
a boy starts buying ice cream sodas for a girl there ain't any-
thing that can break the spell."

We waited until Greg and Sally Anne came out of the
drugstore. We followed them to the Carver home. Greg said
good-bye to Sally Anne. Then he got on his bike and rode to
Smith's vacant lot with us running to keep up with him. He
got off his bike and drew a line in the dirt with the toe of his
shoe. He spit on the palms of his hands and then doubled
up both fists.

"All right," he said. "Who's first?"

Tom put his arm around Greg's shoulders. "Nobody is
going to call you a sissy," he said sympathetically. "We
know it isn't your fault that Sally Anne has you hypnotized
with her giggling. We were just trying to break the spell."

"Maybe she has got me under her spell," Greg said, "but
I like it. I asked her to be my girl and she said she would.
You fellows don't know what you're missing."

Parley spat with disgust. "Missing what?" he asked. "You
can't play boys' games with girls. You can't go fishing and
hunting with them. All you can do is spend money buying
them ice cream sodas and candy. What's the good of having a
girl?"

"It is hard to explain," Greg said. "I felt the same way
you fellows do until I started having daydreams about Sally
Anne."

106

"Boy!" Tom exclaimed- "She's really got you hypnotized.
What kind of daydreams?"

"Like rescuing her from renegade Indians who were
going to burn her at the stake," Greg said with a dopey,
dreamy look on his face. "Like saving her from the railroad
tracks where the villian had tied her just in the nick of time
before the train came. Like saving her from having to marry
the villain by paying off the mortgage."

Parley shook his head. "You've gone plumb loco," he
said.

Greg became angry. "Do you want to back up those
words with your fists?" he demanded.

"I'm not afraid to fight you," Parley said. "But I don't
fight fellows who are plumb loco. I'll leave it up to the fel-
lows. All of you who think Greg is nutty as a fruitcake hold
up your hands."

We all held up our hands except Tom.

"What more proof do you want?" Parley .asked.

"I don't care what you fellows think," Greg said. "Some
day you will look at a girl and what happened to me will
happen to you."

He walked over and picked up his bike.

"Just a minute," Tom said. "My great brain has figured
out that girls put a spell on fellows with their giggling. Will
you try an experiment and stuff cotton in your ears when
you're near Sally Anne so you can't hear her giggling?"

"I will not," Greg said. "And what's more I'm calling
on Sally Anne tomorrow night to sit on the front porch sying
with her."

We all crowded around Tom after Greg left. Danny was
the first to speak.

"I guess you haven't got such a great brain after all," he

107

said. "It only made things worse. Why didn't you use your
fists instead of your brain? Why didn't you call Greg a sissy
and fight him? You know darn well you can whip him.
And maybe if you beat him up good it would have knocked
some sense into him and broken the spell."

"I thought about it," Tom said. "But I didn't want to
fight him for the same reason Parley didn't. Well, not exactly.
Greg isn't insane. But he is bewitched, which is just as bad."

"Well," Danny said, "you had better put your great
brain to work on how to save Greg. Tomorrow night he will
be sitting on the front porch swing with Sally Anne. At the
rate he is going he'll be married and have kids before he is
old enough to shave."

Parley had a puzzled look on his face. "What do a boy
and girl do when they sit on a front porch swing?" he asked.

"How should I know?" Tom asked.

"I thought your great brain knew everything," Parley
said. "And besides I saw your brother Sweyn sitting on the
front porch swing with Marie Vinson before he went away to
school."

"I never asked Sweyn what he did," Tom said. "But
you've given me an idea. I'll find out tomorrow night what
Greg and Sally Anne do sitting on a front porch swing.
Maybe that will give me a clue on how to break the spell."

Frankie and I had to go to bed at eight o'clock. Tom
was twelve and allowed to stay up until nine o'clock. But
Sunday evening he told Papa and Mamma he felt tired and
went upstairs with Frankie and me.

"What's the idea?" I asked him as we entered our bed-
room.

"Forget already?" Tom asked.

"Forget what?" I asked.

108

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"I promised the fellows I'd find out what Greg and Sally
Anne did on a front porch swing," Tom said.

I watched him take the screen off our bedroom win-
dow. "I'm going too," I said.

"Why?" Tom asked.

"Maybe you'll need a witness," I said.

"All right," Tom said. "Frankie, you go to bed. If it isn't
too awful for a boy your age to hear we will tell you about it
when we get back."

Tom and I climbed down the elm tree by our bedroom
window. Our dogs Brownie and Prince came running to
greet us. We locked them up in the barn so they couldn't
follow us. We went down the alley until we were in back
of the Carver home. They didn't have a dog so it was safe to
enter the backyard. We walked around to the side of the
house the porch swing was on. Then we got down on our
hands and knees and crawled to the side of- the porch which
was about two feet off the ground. I could hear the porch
swing creaking. Tom lifted up his head to take a look and
so did I. Greg was sitting on one end of the porch swing and
Sally Anne at the other end-

1 admit that I didn't know what a boy and girl did on a
front porch swing, but I'd always imagined they did mushy
things like holding hands, hugging, squeezing, and even
kissing. But Greg and Sally Anne sure as heck couldn't do
any of these things sitting three feet apart. All I heard for a
long time was the creaking of the swing- I began to wonder
if boys and girls just sat on porch swings without talking to
each other. Finally Sally Anne spoke.




"Did you say something?" she asked.

"No," Greg answered. "Did you say something?"

109




"No," Sally Anne said. "I thought you said something."

"No," Greg said. "I didn't say anything."

I sure as heck couldn't understand why a boy and girl
would want to sit on a front porch swing and ask each other
if they said something when they knew darn well they didn't.
A few minutes passed and then Greg really did say some-
thing.

"Know how to make one word out of a new door?" he
asked.

"No," Sally Anne answered. "How do you make one
word out of a new door?"

"You take the first o from door," Greg said, "and the
n and e from new and what does that spell?"

"One," Sally Anne answered.

"Then you take the w left in new," Greg said, "and the
o and r and d left in door. And what does that spell?"

"Word," Sally Anne said.

"And that is how you make one word out of a new door,"
Greg said.

"That is clever," Sally Anne said.

I heard Tom grunt with disgust. I didn't blame him.
It just goes to prove how dumb girls are. I knew that riddle
when I was Frankie's age. Again there was no sound except
for the creaking of the porch swing. Then a neighbor's dog
barked.

"Did you say something?" Sally Anne asked.

Again they went through that did you say something, no,
I didn't say anything, did you say something, business. And
I couldn't help thinking that only a girl would think a bark-
ing dog sounded like a human being. Nothing but silence
then for what seemed a long time. Finally Greg spoke.

"Want to play a word game?" he asked.

Ill

"I'd love to," Sally Anne said.

"I learned it at school in Provo last year," Greg said.
"I'll name a city or state in the United States. Then you
have to name one that begins with the letter the one I name
ends with. Ready? Arizona, a state."

"I see," Sally Anne said. "Now I have to name one that
begins with the letter A. Alabama, a state."

"Arkansas, a state," Greg said. "Now you must start
with the letter s."

"San Francisco, a city in California," Sally Anne said.

"Ends wfth an o," Greg said- "Oregon, a state."

"Ends with an n," Sally Anne said. "Let me think. Oh.
Nevada, a state."

"Another a," Greg said. "I think I'll give you one back.
Augusta, capital of Maine."

Sally Anne laughed. "And I'll return the favor," she
said. "Atlanta, capital of Georgia."

"I'm running out of a's," Greg said. "No, wait a second.
"Albany, capital of New York."

There was silence for a moment.

"Give up?" Greg asked. "If you do that means you go
down one point and can use the next letter of the alphabet
which would be 2- And if you fail on z that puts you down
two points and you go back to the beginning of the alphabet
and use a."

"Begins with a y," Sally said. "Wait just a minute. The
Revolutionary War. Got it. Yorktown, Virginia."

"Begins with an n," Greg said. "New Orleans, a city in
Louisiana."

"Begins with an s," Sally said. "Oh, Salt Lake City, the
capital of Utah. Now let me see you find a city or state that
begins with a y."

112

I don't know if Greg found one or not. Tom touched
me on the shoulder. We crawled backwards to the side of the
house and then stood up and stretched our aching muscles.

"Boy, oh, boy," I said when we reached the alley where
we could talk. "Why would any boy rather sit on a front
porch swing doing that instead of staying home and playing
checkers or dominoes or some other good game?"

"That, J-D.," Tom said, "is something even my great
brain can't figure out."

"Then you didn't get any kind of a clue that could help
you break the spell?" I asked.

"The only clue I got," Tom said, "is that Greg might
fail all other subjects in school but he ought to get an A in
geography."

The next morning Danny, Parley, Seth, and some other
fellows were waiting in front of our house when we left for
school. They crowded around Tom wanting to know what
he found out-

"You won't believe this fellows," Tom said, "but it is
the God's truth and J.D. is my witness. We sneaked over to
Sally Anne's front porch last night to listen to her and Greg.
First they kept asking each other if they said something when
they knew darn well neither one of them had said anything."

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
"That's silly," he said.

"It gets sillier," Tom said. "Then Greg told a stale old
riddle and Sally Anne didn't know the answer. At least she
pretended not to know. Then they began playing a word
game to practice up on their geography. They were still
playing it when we left."

I'd never seen such disappointed looks on the fellows'

113

faces. J guess they had been expecting to hear about holding
hands, and hugging, and squeezing, and even kissing like I

had.

Danny asked, "Is that all?"

"That is all," Tom said. "The only conclusion my great
brain can come to is that when a girl casts a spell on a fellow,
it makes both of them plumb soft in the head. My father calls
it puppy love. There is nothing my great brain can do to

break the spell."

It was the first time Tom's great brain had failed him,
which only goes to prove how powerful the giggling of a
girl can be. It not only hypnotizes a fellow but makes him
a girl's slave. Greg began carrying Sally Anne's books home
from school and followed her around like a little puppy dog
follows his master. I guess that is why they call it puppy love.
The only good thing was that Greg began getting good

grades.

I did learn one valuable lesson out of it all. Sweyn had

been thirteen when Marie Vinson put a spell on him with
her giggling. Greg was thirteen when Sally Anne put her
spell on him with her giggling. When I became thirteen I
would buy myself a pair of ear plugs. And every time I got
near enough to a girl to hear her giggling I'd stick those ear
plugs in my ears so I couldn't hear. I'd show them I wasn't
hiding in the cellar when the brains were passed out. They
would never get me under their spell with their giggling.

114

CHAPTER SEVEN

The Wheel of Fortune

TOM'S FAILURE TO BREAK the spell Sally had put
on Greg gave the fellows an opportunity to start belittling
his great brain. They never passed up a chance to rub salt
in Tom's wounds over it. I knew that if they kept it up Tom
would put his great brain to work on how to get even with
them. And sure enough on Saturday afternoon it happened.
We were taking a rest after playing basketball in the alley
behind our coal and wood shed.

Danny Forester winked at some of the fellows so Tom
couldn't see him doing it.

"I wonder what happened to Tom's great brain," he
said. "He couldn't break Sally Anne's spell on poor Greg."

115

Seth Smith nodded. "Maybe his great brain just shriv-
eled up and died," he said.

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
"Could be," he said. "But maybe he never had a great brain
in the first place."

Tom was sitting right there listening. "All right, fel-
lows," he said. "That is enough."

Danny's left eyelid flipped open. "Can't blame us for
being curious," he said. "You've been bragging for years
about your great brain. Then along comes a girl and makes
a fool out of you and your great brain."

Seth snapped his fingers. "Which just goes to prove," he
said, "that if anybody in Adenville has a great brain it is
Sally Anne Carver."

Tom stood up. "See you later," he said. "I'm going up
to my loft."

I watched Tom walk toward our barn. "Now you fellows
have done it," I said. "Tom is going up to his loft to put
his brain to work on how to get even with you with one of
his swindles."

Danny shook his head. "No, he won't," he said, "be-
cause Tom knows if he pulls off just one crooked deal no kid
in town will have anything to do with him."

We continued playing basketball until it was chore
time. I called up to Tom to come down and help with the
evening chores.

"Did your great brain figure out how to get even with
the fellows?" I asked.

"Not yet," he said. "But it will. They will rue the day
they made fun of my great brain."

116

Tom's great brain didn't come up with a plan until
Monday afternoon after school I had to fix a tire puncture
on my bike. After I finished I used the hand pump to pump
up the tire. Then I figured as long as I had the bike upside
down on the seat and handlebars I might as well oil it. 1
oiled the sprocket, the chain, and both wheels. Then I spun
the wheels around to lubricate them. Tom and Frankie were
sitting on the back porch steps watching me.

"Got it!" Tom said as he suddenly jumped to his feet.
"The wheel of fortune."

"What is that?" I asked.

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"It is a wheel with numbers on it," Tom said, "and each
number wins a prize. You weren't living with us then,
Frankie, but J.D. remembers the year they let a carnival
come here for the County Fair. One of the booths was the
wheel of fortune."

"I remember," I said. "I also remember so many people
complained the games were crooked, the county commission-
ers barred any more carnivals from the County Fairs. The
only good thing about it was the merry-go-round."

"I'll need a wheel," Tom said as his face became thought-
ful.

I finished oiling my bike. "Maybe you could use an old
bike wheel," I said.

"No," Tom said. "It has to be made of wood." He
snapped his fingers. "Got it! Mamma never uses that old
spinning wheel of Grandma's in the attic."

I went into the house with him. Mamma was busy in the
kitchen with Aunt Bertha.

"Mamma," Tom said, "can I have that old spinning
wheel of Grandma's in the attic?"

117

Mamma looked up from some biscuit dough she was
kneading. "What in the world do you want it for?" she asked.

"To make a wheel of fortune," Tom said- "You know,
like the wheel of fortune they had at the carnival that time."

"I also know," Mamma said, "that your father, your
uncle Mark, and the mayor decided all the games of chance
at the carnival were fixed so nobody won any prizes most of
the time, and when they did, it was something very cheap.
That is why no carnival has been allowed here since."

"But my wheel of fortune will be different," Tom said.
"Somebody will win a prize every time and the prize will
be wortrkmore than it costs to play."

Mamma wiped her hands on her apron and placed her
hands on her hips. "Something tells me I should say no,"
she said, "although I will never use the spinning wheel."

"Sometimes I just don't understand grownups," Tom
said shaking his head. "I saw you and Papa playing the wheel
ot fortune and other games at the carnival and having fun
even knowing the games were crooked. Now I want to make
an honest wheel of fortune that has a winner every time so
the kids can have some fun and you don't want to help me."

"I didn't say you couldn't have the spinning wheel,"
Mamma said. "And I guess there is no harm in you and
your friends playing carnival. You can have the spinning
wheel. Just make certain somebody wins a prize every time
and there isn't any backsliding attached to it."

Tom and I got the spinning wheel from the attic and
carried it to the barn with Frankie following us. Tom got
some tools from the tool shed and took the spinning wheel
apart. He told Frankie and me to throw everything but the
wheel in the trash barrel.

While Frankie and I carried the extra parts to our trash

118

barrel Tom went up to his loft. He had a cigar box with sev-
eral thread spools in it when he came down the rope ladder.
Mamma always gave us the wooden spools after using the
thread on them. A fellow could make a lot of things with a
wooden spool, like a peashooter. Tom picked out a spool. He
put a sixteen-penny nail through the hole. Then he ham-
mered the nail into a wall joist in back of the box he'd used
for a table during his magic act.

"The spool should hold the wheel far enough away from
the two-by-four so it will spin," he said.

I watched him pick up the wheel and put the hub over
the nail. He gave the wheel a spin and it went around and
around.

"Now I need one of Papa's old celluloid collars," he
said. "J.D., go ask Mamma if she's got one old and frayed
enough to throw away."

Mamma said she was glad I'd reminded her because she
had been meaning to buy some new celluloid collars for
Papa. She picked out a worn one from the collar box and
gave it to me.

Tom had the wheel lying on the box table when I re-
turned. He was using a ruler and a pencil to make ten dots
around the wooden rim of the wheel. When he finished he
drove ten small nails into the rim where he'd made the dots.
He put the wheel on the sixteen-penny nail.

Then he went to the coal and wood shed and picked out
a stick about two inches wide and six inches long. Back in
the barn he cut a strip of celluloid from the collar. He tacked
one end of it to one end of the stick. This left about two
inches of the celluloid below the stick. Tom placed the stick
against the side of the wall joist above the wheel. The cellu-
loid stuck out too far. He measured it with his eye and then

119

cut off a piece of the stick. It fit perfectly then so he nailed
the stick to the side of the wall joist. The piece of celluloid
hung about a quarter of an inch below the nails on the wheel.
Tom gave the wheel a spin. The celluloid made a clicking
sound as it hit the nails while the wheel was spinning around
and around.

"That is enough for today," Tom said. "It is time to
start doing the chores."

The next day after school Tom used a board a foot wide
and about six feet long to make a shelf on the barn wall be-
side the wheel.

"What is that for?" I asked.

"Yeah, what?" Frankie said.

"To display the prizes you can win playing the wheel of
fortune," Tom said.

He went up to his loft and rame back down with a cal-
endar.

"Go to the house," he said to me, "and get a pair of
scissors and some glue."

When I returned he took one month from the calendar
and cut out the numbers one through ten. He glued them to
the shelf about six inches apart. Then he cut out numbers
one through ten from another month in the calendar. These
he glued in the spaces between the nails on the wheel.

"All I need now," he said, "are some prizes and I'll be in
business."

"When are you going to open for business?" I asked.

"Saturday morning at ten o'clock," Tom said. "But wait
until Friday. Then you tell all the kids at the common school
they are invited to play the wheel of fortune in our barn

120

Saturday morning. And make sure you tell them if they want
to play to bring some money with them. I'll tell the fellows
at the Academy."

Friday at noon Tom stopped at the bank on our way
home for lunch. He exchanged three dollars for nickels.

"I'll need them to make change," he told Frankie and
me. "It is going to cost a nickel to play the wheel of for-
tune."

When school let out that afternoon we went home and
had cookies and milk. Then we went up to the bedroom to
change into our play clothes. Tom got his bank from the
clothes closet and took some money from it.

"I'm going to the Z.C.M.I. store to buy the prizes for
the wheel of fortune," he said.

"Can I come?" I asked.

"No," Tom said. "I want you to do something. There
are a lot of kids who graduated from the sixth grade who
aren't going to the Academy. You know them. Take your
bike and ride around and let them know about the wheel of

fortune."

"It seems as if I'm doing a lot of work around here for
nothing," I said. "What do I get out of all of this?"

"How about five cents?" Tom asked. "And that includes
keeping the kids out of the barn tomorrow morning until
I'm ready."

"Make it a dime," I said.

"All right," he said handing me a dime.

I was kicking myself as I rode around letting kids know
about the wheel of fortune. Tom had given me the dime so
quickly I knew I could have got a quarter just by asking. It

121

was time to start doing the chores when I returned. Tom and
Frankie were waiting on the back porch steps.

"It sure took you a long time," Tom said as he stood up.
"There are a heck of a lot of kids," I said, "whose par-
ents believe a sixth grade education is all they need. Can I
see the prizes?"

"You can see them tomorrow," Tom said.

The next morning we finished our chores in a hurry and
just in time. The wheel of fortune wasn't supposed to start
until ten o'clock, but kids started coming into the corral at
nine thirty. Tom went inside the barn after telling me not to
let anybody in until he called out to me. The fellows kept
asking me what the wheel of fortune was, but Tom had told
me not to tell them.

"You'li see for yourselves in a few minutes," I answered.
It seemed like more than half an hour before Tom called
for me to open the barn doors. There were about twenty-five
kids waiting by then. Tom was standing behind the box table
by the wheel of fortune. He gave the wheel a spin.

"Behold the wheel of fortune," he said. "You will notice
there is a number between each space on the wheel. Now,
let me show you what prizes you can win if the wheel stops on
the lucky number you hold."

He walked over to the shelf where the prizes were dis-
played. "There are ten numbers on the wheel of fortune,"
he said, "and ten numbers on the shelf. Behind each number
on the shelf is the prize that number wins. For example,
number one wins a genuine Spalding baseball worth thirty-
five cents. Number three wins a harmonica worthy twenty-
five cents. Number five wins a baseball mitt worth forty cents.
Number seven wins a two-bladed pearl-handled pocket knife

122

•&• •-.

worth thirty-five cents. Number nine wins a bone-handled
jackknife worth a quarter. And because there can be no los-
ing numbers on a wheel of fortune, each of the other num-
bers wins two boxes of Cracker Jack worth ten cents with
the usual prize in each box."

Tom walked in back of the box table and picked up
some playing cards which he spread out like a fan.

"Now, this is how the game is played," he said. "I hold
in my hand ten cards in the heart suit numbered from ace to
ten. The ace counts as one. I shuffle the cards like this." He
shuffled the cards. "Then I lay them face down on the box
table like this." He placed the cards down one by one. "This
way nobody knows what number he has until I spin the
wheel of fortune. He might hold a number that can win a
forty-cent prize. And again it might be a number that will
only win a ten-cent prize. This makes it fair and square for

everybody."

Parley thrust his head forward to ^ook at the cards.
"How much does it cost to play?" he asked.

"A mere five cents," Tom said, "to win a prize worth
two times, five times, seven times, or even eight times that
much- You place your nickel on top of one of the cards. As
soon as I've collected the money, I will spin the wheel of
fortune. Then you can look at your cards. All right, fellows,
step right up and try your luck on the wheel of fortune."

So many kids started pushing and shoving each other to

play Tom had to stop it.

"Take it easy," he said. "Line up and take your turn

playing the wheel of fortune."

Danny, Parley, Seth, and the bigger kids got to play first.
They each put a nickel on a card. Tom collected the money
and put it in a cigar box. Then he spun the wheel of fortune-

123




"You can look at your cards now," he said. "And around
and around she goes and where she stops nobody knows. Who
will be the lucky winner? Only the wheel of fortune knows.
It is slowing down now^ slower and slower, and now it has
stopped. The wheel of fortune says that number nine is the
lucky winner."

Danny held up his card. "That's me!" he shouted.

"The prize for number nine is the bone-handled jack-
knife," Tom said. "Now, you fellows understand that I only
carry one of each prize so you can see what you win. So in-
stead of giving Danny the knife, I'm going to give him
twenty-five cents in cash so he can buy a knife just like it at
the Z.C.M.I. store."

I had been wondering what Tom would do after some-
body won a prize. I didn't have to wonder any longer. And I
knew he hadn't gotten all those nickels at the bank just to
make change. Did Danny leave the barn and go buy a jack-
knife? Heck no. Tom knew that by giving, cash instead of
prizes most of the fellows would use the money to keep on
playing instead of going to buy a prize like what they had
won-

After paying Danny, Tom picked up the ten cards and
shuffled them. He placed the cards face down on the box
table.

"Let the next ten players step up and try their luck on
the wheel of fortune," he said.

I got to play that time. I didn't win. My friend Howard
Kay won two boxes of Cracker Jack. Tom gave him two
nickels instead of the prize-

The kids kept on taking turns playing until lunch time.
They won prizes with every spin of the wheel. But the only
one who went down to the Z.C.M-I. store and bought a pearl-

125

handled two-bladed knife with his prize money was Jimmie
Peterson. The rest gambled the money right back. I lost the
dime Tom had paid me plus fifteen cents on top of it and
didn't win anything.

At noon Tom announced the wheel of fortune would
close for lunch but would open again at one o'clock. He took
the cigar box with him when we left the barn. He kept
shaking it. as if the sound of clinking coins was music to his
ears.

"You are making a fortune," I said as we walked toward
the house with Frankie.

"Why not?" he asked grinning. "Every time I spin the
wheel of fortune I have to make from ten cents to forty cents.
And with five of the ten prizes just two boxes of Cracker
Jack, it is forty cents half the time."

"This is the best swindle your great brain ever thought
up," I said.

"If you think it is a swindle," Tom said, "you must be
dumb as a billy goat."

For my money it was an out and out swindle. I couldn't
see anything dumb about that-

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Why did you play the wheel of fortune if you think it
is a swindle?" Tom asked.

He had me there. And it was a good thing his mind was
on the money in the cigar box or he would have blackmailed
me into doing his share of the chores for saying it was a
swindle.

Piggy banks sure took a beating during the noon hour.
There were more kids playing the wheel of fortune that
afternoon than there had been during the morning. Tom
kept paying in cash instead of prizes, and the fellows all used

126

the money to play some more- But with Tom keeping from
ten cents to forty cents of the money bet each time, it wasn't
too long before practically everybody was broke. By three
thirty there were only five fellows left with any money-

"Sorry," Tom said, "but you can't play the wheel of
fortune unless there are ten players."

It must have been Parley Benson's lucky day. He had
won almost three dollars. Pete Kyle was also ahead of the
game. Basil Kokovinis, Hal Evans, and Danny Forester still
had some money left. Parley looked at Tom.

"There are five of us wanting to play," he said. "What if
each of us pay a dime and take two cards?"

That was fine with Tom. But it only took a few spins of
the wheel of fortune until Danny was broke. Parley was crazy
for doing it. but to keep the game going he played four cards.
A few more spins of the wheel and Hal was broke. Parley
tried to get Basil and Pete to each play three cards but they
refused. The game ended with Parley ahead a couple of dol-
lars and Pete had won seventy cents, but everybody else had

lost money.

I watched Tom count the money after the fellows left
the barn. He was grinning when he finished.

"Except for Parley and Pete, I paid those fellows back
good for making fun of my great brain," he said grinning. "I
took them for fourteen dollars and thirty cents."

All that money made me feel a little envious. "You
weren't running a wheel of fortune," I said. "You were run-
ning a gambling casino. And when Papa finds out you were
giving cash instead of prizes he will make you give the money

back."

Tom didn't look worried at all. "And just how is Papa

going to find out?" he asked.
127

"Some of the fellows are sure going to complain to their
parents that they were swindled," I said.

"Not one kid will dare to tell his parents," Tom said
confidently.

"And why not?" I asked.

"Because they would have to admit they were gam-
bling," Tom said. "And they all know their parents would
give them a whipping for gambling."

Then I got a brilliant idea of how to get even with Tom
for all the times he had blackmailed me.

"I know one kid who isn't afraid to tell his parents," I
said. "You are looking at him. So maybe you'd better make
me a partner and give me ten per cent of the profits."

"I see," Tom said. "Trying a little blackmail, eh, J.D.?"

"It takes one to know one," I said. "You never really
reformed. You'll go on being a crook all of your life. And I
can't see any harm in blackmailing a crook. Besides, it would
make up for some of the times you blackmailed me."

Tom thought about it for a moment. "Now let me get
this straight," he said. "You are going to tell Papa that I paid
out cash instead of prizes if I don't make you a ten per cent
partner. Right?"

"Right," 1 said.

"And I'm going to show Papa the prizes," Tom said,
"and tell him my wheel of fortune was better than the one
at the carnival because somebody won a prize every time.
Papa would understand I couldn't have a dozen of each of
the prizes on hand. Right?"

"I guess so," I had to admit.

"And because none of the fellows will dare tell their
parents they were gambling," Tom said, "that means no

128

parents are going to complain to Papa that I swindled their
sons. Right?"

"Right," I was forced to admit,

"Therefore," Tom said, "when we tell Papa about the
wheel of fortune, he is going to assume all the kids were
satisfied and the winners went down to the Z.C.M.I, store
and bought the prizes they had won. So you see, J.D., Papa
isn't going to pay much attention to your story, but he will
pay a lot of attention to mine."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean by
that?" I asked.

Tom shrugged. "I will naturally have to tell Papa that
you tried to blackmail me out of ten per cent of the profits,"
he said. "My guess is that you will lose your allowance for
a month, maybe longer, and receive at least a month of the
silent treatment."

Talk about being a step ahead of somebody. The Great
Brain was a mile ahead of me. And I couldn't help wonder-
ing when I looked in a mirror why I didn't see the head of a
donkey on my shoulders.

"Forget about making me a partner," I said. "I'm sorry
I tried to blackmail you,"

"I accept your apology," Tom said. "Face it, J.D., you
haven't got the brains to blackmail anybody. That is why I

forgive you."

I watched Tom take down the wheel of fortune.

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"I've taken the fellows for all the spending money they

have," Tom said, "except for Parley and Pete. I'll put the

wheel of fortune up in my loft until the rest of the fellows

have saved up some money."

129

I waited until Tom came down from the loft and
helped him put the prizes in a cardboard box. Then Tom
put his arm around my shoulders.

"How much did you lose, J.D,?" he asked sympathet-
ically.

"Twenty-five cents this morning," I said, "and fifteen
cents this afternoon."

"I would gladly give you back your forty cents," Tom
said, "except for one thing."

I couldn't think of any possible reason why he would
gladly give me my money back.

"What's that?" I asked.

"I want this experience to teach you never to gamble
again," Tom said. "I'm doing it for your own good."

Maybe it was for my own good. But for my money it
would have done me a lot more good to get back my forty
cents, although I must admit it taught me never to gamble
again.

130

CHAPTER EIGHT

A

^
tep

^
<„*,

The Game of Outlaw and Posse

ALTHOUGH I'D BEEN FOOL enough to play it, for
my money the wheel of fortune was an out and out swindle.
Only two fellows had won money and about twenty-five kids
had lost money, including me. I guess the fellows who lost
were too ashamed to admit they had been swindled or too
dumb to know it. They continued to talk to Tom and play
with him. But I did notice they all stopped making fun of
his great brain. And the fortune Tom made must have satis-
fied his money-loving heart at least for a little while. He
didn't even make a bet until a couple of weeks later.

The bet was made on a Friday afternoon. We had been
playing scrub football on Smith's vacant lot after school let

131

out. We stopped when it was time to go home and do the
evening chores, but as usual on Fridays, we talked about
what we were going to do the next day before going home.
Seth Smith was the first one to make a suggestion.

"How about playing outlaw and posse tomorrow?" he
asked.

Pete Kyle shook his head. "It is my turn to be the out-
law," he said, "but I can't play. Got to help Pa fix the roof
on our barn."

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
"How about letting me be the outlaw in your place?" he
asked.

"Sure," Pete said.

"The posse will never catch me," Parley said, as confi-
dent as a rabbit being chased by a snail.

Tom looked at him. "I'll bet we would if I was the
sheriff," he said. "But it is Danny's turn to be the sheriff."

"Not me," Danny said. "I don't want to be the sheriff
if Parley is going to be the outlaw. You can be the sheriff,
Tom."

I didn't blame Danny for not wanting to be sheriff. The
last time he'd been sheriff Parley had been the outlaw, and
the posse hadn't captured him.

Parley tapped Tom on the chest with his finger. "Bet
two-bits the posse doesn't capture me," he said.

"You seem mighty sure of yourself," Tom said.

"I'm as sure as sure can be," Parley said.

"Then why just a quarter?" Tom asked. "Why not bet a
dollar?"

We all stared bug-eyed at Tom. A dollar was a fortune
to every kid there except The Great Brain.

132

"You figured I'd back down if you made the bet a
dollar," Parley said. "But you are forgetting I won more than
a dollar on the wheel of fortune. I'm going to call your bluff.
A dollar says the posse doesn't capture me,"

"It's a bet," Tom said. "All of you fellows with horses
who want to play the game meet in the alley in back of my
place tomorrow morning after chores. And this time bring
food an outlaw and posse would have. Just beef jerky and
hardtack. I don't want anybody showing up with sandwiches
and cookies like you did last time, Seth."

For my money Tom would have a better chance of win-
ning a bet that our milk cow could jump over our barn.
Parley had learned everything there was to know about track-
ing from his father. Trying to track him down would be like
tracking a rabbit over a lava bed. Parley had outwitted the
posse every time he'd been the outlaw. Of course Tom hadn't
been the sheriff any of those times. And the sheriff was in
complete charge and the deputies had to follow his orders-
1 was thinking about this as Tom and I walked toward home.

"I'll bet you were surprised when Parley called your
bluff," I said. "You can kiss that dollar good-bye."

"I wasn't trying to bluff him out of betting," Tom said.
"I just wanted to make him bet more than a quarter. I knew
he could afford to bet a dollar because of the money he won
on the wheel of fortune."

"I still say you can kiss that dollar good-bye," I said.

"If that is the way you feel, J.D.," Tom said. "Why
don't you get down a bet of your own?"

All of my life I'd been waiting to win a bet from The
Great Brain. Papa had often said if you just had the patience
to wait long enough for something to happen that someday

133

it would happen. This was my golden opportunity.

"Bet a quarter the posse doesn't catch the outlaw," I
said.

"You've got yourself a bet," Tom said.

The next morning Tom, Frankie, and I finished the
chores. Eddie Huddle came over to play with Frankie. Tom
and I saddled up Dusty. Parley was the first to arrive, riding
his pony, Blaze. Then Seth Smith, Danny Forester, Hal
Evans, Frank Jensen, and Howard Kay arrived on their
horses. The rest of the fellows who owned horses had to
work.

Tom and I rode double on Dusty as the outlaw and
posse started for Three Falls Canyon where we played the
game. The canyon was located about seven miles from town.
It was named for the three waterfalls in it- The Paiute In-
dians believed the canyon was haunted and wouldn't enter
it, and I sure as heck didn't blame them. The Paiute name
for the canyon meant, place where screaming bad spirits
dwell. The walls of the canyon were all limestone and in
some places almost perpendicular. Millions of years of frost,
rain, and wind had carved holes in the limestone cliffs- Some
of them looked like giant honeycombs, they had so many
holes in them. When the wind blew. in these holes it made
an eerie whistling sound like the screaming of hundreds of
demons. Another eerie thing was the way the coloring in the
limestone cliffs changed with the light. Cliffs that looked
pink, cream, and purple in the sunlight changed to ver-
milion, yellow, and orange when the sun went behind a
cloud.

Every time I entered the canyon I wondered if some
ancestor of mine could have been a Paiute Indian because I

134

felt the same way they did about the canyon. I wouldn't have
gone there alone for all the candy in the Z.C.M.I, store. In
addition, bobcats, mountain lions, wolves, and even bears
had been killed in the canyon by hunters and trappers. For
my money it was a good place for a fellow to have a lot of
company.

We arrived at the mouth of the canyon before noon. We
all ate some beef jerky and hardtack and drank water from
the stream that ran down the canyon. Then Tom took out
the watch he had received for Christinas.

"You all know the rules," he said. "The posse gives the
outlaw a fifteen minute head start. Then the posse has two
hours to track down the outlaw and get close enough to
touch him to arrest him, or the outlaw wins. It is now a
quarter past twelve. That means the outlaw must be caught
by two thirty. All right, outlaw, get going."

Parley jumped on Blaze and rode up the canyon on the
trail used by hunters and trappers. Tom sat on a log holding
the watch in his hand until the fifteen minutes were up.
Then he put the watch in his pocket and stood up.

"Mount up, men," he ordered. "We've got an outlaw to
capture."

We rode up the canyon following the trail. The hoof-
prints of the outlaw's horse were easy to follow because
there had been a light rain the night before. Birds began
making noises in the trees. I saw crossbills, Clark's nut-
crackers, and a lot of gray jays. The jays were better known
as camp robbers. They were the most daring thieves of all
birds. They would steal a piece of bread right out of your
hand. One time on our annual fishing trip Papa had just put
bacon and eggs on our tin plates when some camp robbers
swooped down and stole the bacon right off our plates.

135

The canyon was too narrow for farming or grazing live-
stock. It was more of a gorge than a canyon, less than a hun-
dred feet wide in most places, and in some places only about
twenty-five feet wide. We had traveled for about fifteen
minutes when Tom called a halt.       ~

"The outlaw rode his horse at a gallop or trot this far,"
he said. "But now the hoofprints show he slowed his horse
down to a walk. So keep a sharp eye for signs where he might
have left his horse and tried to escape on foot."

We followed the trail around a bend in the canyon.
Parley's pony, Blaze, was standing by himself eating some
grass by the trail. Tom dismounted. He walked all round the
pony looking for footprints or bent grass caused by footsteps
but couldn't find any. He led BIa/e over to me and handed
me the reins.

"You ride the outlaw's horse," he said. Then he went
over and sat down on a log. He sat there so long Danny
finally rode over beside him.

"Are yon giving up already, Sheriff?" he asked.

"No," Tom said as he stood up. "We know the outlaw
left his horse hut he didn't get off on the ground or we
would have seen signs of footprints along the trail."

"Maybe he erased his footprints with a bush," Danny
said.

"The ground is too wet for that," Tom said.

"But there is no other way to get off a horse," Danny
protested.

"Yes, there is," Tom said. "We will have to backtrack."

Tom mounted Dusty and we started back the way we
had come. But this time Tom wasn't looking at the trail. He
was looking up at trees. When we reached the place where
the outlaw had walked his horse Tom called a halt. He

136

pointed at a big limb of an aspen tree that hung about
twelve feet above the trail.

"See how the small branches on that big limb are
broken," he said. "That is how the outlaw left his horse."

We all stared at the limb. Danny put into words what
we were all thinking.

"Impossible," he said. "The outlaw couldn't reach it
from his saddle."

"You are forgetting," Tom said, "that we are dealing
with an outlaw who won prizes for trick riding at county fairs
before he became an outlaw. This is where he walked his
horse. He stood up on the rump of the horse and grabbed the
limb as they got under it. Then he hoisted himself up on the
limb after giving his horse a command to keep going. See
how the small branches are broken all the way to the trunk
of the tree. Dismount, men."

We got oft our horses and walked to the trunk of the
big tree. Tom pointed at another big limb going in the
opposite direction.

"See the small broken branches on that one," he said.
"The outlaw used it so he could drop more than twenty feet
away from the trail."

Sure enough we found footprints where the outlaw had
dropped to the ground from the limb.

"We will have to track him on foot," Tom said. "Depu-
ties Evans, Jensen, and Kay take the horses along the trail
and meet us at the first waterfall. The rest of you men come
with me."

I guess the outlaw figured he had outwitted the posse
with that tree trick. He made no attempt to avoid leaving
footprints or bent grass caused by footsteps all the way to the
first waterfall. There the footprints disappeared. Floods

137

roaring down the canyon over the centuries had washed
away all dirt and grass around the waterfall leaving just rocks
and big boulders right up to the canyon walls. The outlaw
must have washed off his boots because there wasn't a sign
of any mud or grass from the soles of his boots on the rocks
or boulders.

"Stake the horses,'' Tom ordered. "Deputies Forester
and Smith go above the waterfall on the left side and look
for signs of footprints showing the outlaw went farther up
the canyon. The rest of you deputies take the other side."

I started to follow orders but Tom grabbed my arm.

"Wait here with me," he said.

Then Tom waited until the deputies were out of ear-
shot. "I just sent them up there so they couldn't hear," he
said. "Now, I'll tell you why I bet Parley a dollar. This is
where the outlaw's trail disappeared every time Parley was
the outlaw. My great brain figured out how he outwitted the
posse. Pie removed his clothes and hid them under rocks or
bushes."

"Why would he do that?" I asked.

"So he could go in under the waterfall and hide there
until the posse went farther up the canyon," Tom said.
"Then he came out, got dressed, and went back to the mouth
of the canyon where he waited until the posse returned after
the two hours were up- Now take oft your clothes and go
under the waterfall and arrest that outlaw."

"Why me?" I asked, seeing as how it was going to cost
me a quarter if Parley was there.

"Because you are just a deputy," Tom said, "and I am
a sheriff giving you an order."

I stripped naked and waded in under the waterfall.
There was room to hide there all right, under an overhang-

138

ing ledge of rock, but no outlaw. The deputies had returned
when I came out shivering from the cold water. Tom had
told them what I was doing. It was almost worth the trip in
under the waterfall to see the look of disappointment oh The
Great Brain's face when I told him there was no outlaw
there.

"Then he must have gone farther up the canyon," Tom

said.

"But," Danny protested, "we didn't see any signs of foot-
prints above the waterfall."

"He walked on rocks to the stream," Tom said, "and
then waded upstream. The rules say the outlaw can't go any
farther than the second waterfall, and I'll bet we find him
hiding under it. But just to make sure, deputies Forester
and Smith take the left side of the stream and look for foot-
prints where the outlaw might have left it. The rest of you
come with me." Then Tom turned to me. "Can't wait for
you to get dry and dressed. You wait here."

I sat on a big boulder to let the sun dry me as the posse
left. The last thing I wanted was to be left alone in the
canyon. The eerie whistling of the wind in the honey-
combed cliffs was enough to make me start seeing imaginary
demons. I knew bobcats, mountain lions, wolves, and bears
wouldn't attack a man on a horse or a group of men. But
one little kid sitting naked on a boulder might look like a
nice tasty morsel to them.

I ran to where the horses were staked and got on Dusty.
The posse was out of earshot by this time or I would have
hollered for help even if it did make me a fraidy-cat. I sat on
Dusty listening to the whistling of the wind and staring up
at the limestone cliffs. I decided to heck with it, I'd get
dressed without waiting to dry off, and run to catch up with

139

the posse. But just then I saw fur moving on a ledge about
twenty feet from the floor of the canyon. I wondered how
in the world an animal got up on that ledge. Then Parley
peeked over the edge and I knew it had been his coonskin
cap that I had seen. He had climbed up to the ledge using
the holes in the cliff for handholds and toeholds, and then
lain down flat so we couldn't see him. No wonder the posse
had never caught him.

I jumped off Dusty. "I captured you!" I shouted. "Come
on down!"

Parley stared down at me. "I thought you had all gone
up the canyon," he shouted.

"You thought wrong!" I shouted right back.

"I'm not captured until the sheriff or a deputy gets near
enough to touch me," he called.

I got dressed in nothing flat with Parley watching me.
I knew he thought I'd go after the posse and he could climb
down and escape while I was doing it. Well I had a surprise
for him. Maybe the canyon did frighten me, but I wasn't
afraid to climb up to that ledge.

I walked to the cliff and looked up at him. "If you don't
come down," I shouted, "I'm coming up."

"Come ahead," Parley yelled and I knew from the way
he was looking down at me that he thought I was afraid to
try it.

I got a handhold and toehold and started climbing up
the cliff. Parley watched me until I'd climbed about halfway
to the ledge-

"You'll have to climb higher than this ledge to capture
me!" he shouted.

And I'll be an eagle that flies backward if he didn't
start climbing straight up the cliff. I climbed back to the

140

bottom of the canyon. It was about seventy-five feet from
the ledge to the top of the cliff.

"Come back you fool!" I screamed at him. "You'll fall
and be killed!"

But Parley kept right on climbing up the side of the
cliff using holes for handholds and toeholds. I was so fas-
cinated with awe and terror that I just stood there watching
him. He was about halfway to the top when the toehold he
was using with his right foot broke loose from the cliff and
a big chunk of limestone came tumbling down. Parley hunted
around with the toe of his right foot trying to find another
hole. But there wasn't any he could reach. He couldn't go up
without a toehold. He couldn't come down because the
piece of limestone that had broken off was a handhold he
had used going up. I knew that if he let go and fell on the
rocks and boulders below he would be killed.

"Help!" Parley screamed as he realized he was trapped.
"Hang on!" I shouted. "I'll get help!" -
I scrambled over the boulders to the top of the water-
fall. Then I began running along the bank of the stream
screaming for help- I knew I could catch up with the posse
if I could just keep on running. My breath felt like flames
of fire in my throat. My legs began to tremble so much I
thought I'd fall down. Then I remembered something Papa
had said one time. He had said all human beings develop
superhuman strength when faced with great danger. Papa
was right. The thought seemed to give me the strength to
keep going. And finally I saw the posse-
"Help!" I shouted. "Help! Help!"

They all turned around and came running toward me.
Tom reached me first.

"What's the matter, J. D.?" he asked.

141

"Parley's on the cliff by the waterfall!" I said. "He can't
go up and he can't come down!"

I had a hard time keeping up with the others as we ran
back to the waterfall. Parley was still hanging on the cliff
screaming for help.

"Hang on, Parley!" Tom shouted. "We'll rescue you!"
Then he looked at the cliff for a couple of seconds.
"Danny," he said, "you and Seth ride back to the mouth of
the canyon and come back on top. When you get there tie
your lariats together. Then tie one end to the pommel of the
saddle on your horse, Danny. Seth, you let the lariat down
over the cliff so Danny can use his horse to pull up Parley
and me."

Danny pointed at Tom. "Parley and you?" he asked.
"It will take you about an hour to get to the top," Tom
said. "Maybe Parley can't hold on that long. I'll scale the
cliff taking two lariats with me. I'll tie one end to a tree and
let myself down the cliff so I can hold Parley until you get
there. All right, get going."

Danny and Seth ran toward their horses with Tom and
the rest of us following. They mounted and rode down the
canyon. Tom removed the lariats from Dusty and Blaze. He
tied them together. Then he coiled them and slipped the
coil over his head on his left shoulder and under his right
arm. I looked up at the cliff which was about a hundred
feet high and became very frightened.

"Please don't try it," I pleaded. "What happened to
Parley might happen to you. Please don't take the chance."

"I'd take a chance of climbing that cliff any day in the
week," Tom said, "to save Parley's life and make a dollar."
He handed me his watch. "Look at the time when I reach
Parley."

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Then he ran toward the cliff shouting. "Hang on, Parley,
I'm coming!"

Hal Evans, Frank Jensen, Howard Kay, and I stood
watching as Tom began climbing the cliff. When he reached
the ledge he studied the side of the cliff for a couple of
seconds. Then he walked along the ledge and started climb-
ing up the face of the cliff about fifteen feet from where
Parley had been climbing. But Tom was climbing different
than Parley had. He was sort of zigzagging up the cliff. He
would climb several feet and then study the cliff above him.
Sometimes he went to the right and sometimes to the left
before continuing straight up. I knew he was doing this to
pick the best holes in the cliff to use as handholds and toe-
holds. We could hear him shouting encouragement to Parley.
We groaned with relief each time Tom got another hand-
hold or toehold. When he was opposite Parley he stopped.
"Just hang on!'' he shouted.
"Hurry, Tom, please!" Parley yelled. "My hands are
going numb! I can't hold on much longer!"

"I'll get you out of this!" Tom shouted. "Just hang on!"
Up, up, up the face of the honeycombed cliff Tom
climbed until at last he reached the rim where the canyon
wall sloped toward the top. There were scraggty cedar and
pine trees growing between cracks in rocks. Tom took hold
of a cedar tree and tested it. Then he used the tree to pull
himself up over the rim of the cliff.
"He did it!" I heard Hal yell.

Then he, Frank, and Howard began shouting and
jumping up and down. But I was so stunned with relief that
I couldn't speak or move. I watched Tom use scraggly cedar
and pine trees and rocks to climb to the top of the canyon.
Then he disappeared. I knew he was tying one end of the

143

double lariat to a big tree on top. I don't believe I blinked
my eyes until I saw him again.

Tom came down the sloping part of the canyon wall
using the lariat to hold himself and uncoiling it as he went.
He stopped at the rim of the cliff and tossed the coiled-up
part of the double lariat over the edge. When it uncoiled it
was about six feet from Parley. I knew why Tom didn't put
the lariat any closer to Parley. He was afraid Parley might try
to grab it with one hand and wouldn't be able to hold him-
self with just one handhold. I watched with mixed feelings
of pride and awe as Tom let himself down the face of the
cliff hand over hand on the lanat-

"Hang on for just a couple more seconds!" he shouted
when he got opposite Parley.

Then he held his weight with his left hand while he
made a noose round his body under the armpits with his
right hand. He tightened the noose and then tested it. Then
he pushed himself away from the cliff with his feet until he
was standing practically horizontal to the cliff with the double
lariat holding his weight. He walked sideways like that until
he was straddling Parley's body. Then he bent his legs until
his knees were straddling Parley's legs. I watched him put his
arms around Parley's chest. Then he must have told Parley to
let go of the handholds. I don't know if it was the wind or
what, but they both began to spin slowly around in the air.

I didn't realize until that moment that my left hand was
hurting. I looked at it. I'd been squeezing Tom's pocket
watch so hard the case had made a deep impression in my
palm. I opened the lid of the case and looked at the time.

Howard touched my arm. "What time is it." he asked.

I showed him the watch. "Ten minutes past two," I said.

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"How long have Seth and Danny been gone?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered.

Hal and Frank were near enough to hear.

"I figure they've been gone almost halt an hour," Hal
said. "That means Tom will have to hold Parley for almost
half an hour."

"Look," Frank said pointing up. "Parley can't help to
hold himself because he'd have to raise his arms in back of
his head. That would make it harder for Tom to hold him.
That's why Tom is taking a leg scissor hold too."

I saw Tom had wrapped his legs around Parley's legs
and taken a scissor hold by locking his ankles. This would
help him support Parley's weight.

I don't know how long it was before Danny and Seth
reached the top I only know that I felt as though I'd aged
ten years before I finally saw Seth. He and Danny had fol-
lowed Tom's instructions. Seth came down the slope of the
canyon holding himself by the double lariat tied to the
pommel of Danny's saddle on Danny's horse. I couldn't see
Danny or the horse. When Seth got to the rim of the cliff he
looked over the edge and tossed the coiled-up part of the
lariat over the side. When it uncoiled I could see there was
a noose on the end of it.

Seth shouted something at Tom and Parley. I couldn't
hear what it was because the wind was blowing stronger,
making a loud whistling noise in the honeycombed cliff. But
I could see what was happening. The wind was blowing the
lariat out of Parley's reach. Seth moved to the left with the
lariat. Then the wind blew the noose part so Parley could
grab it.

I watched Parley get the noose over his head and under
his armpits while Tom held him. He lost his coonskin cap

146

doing this and it fell to the canyon floor. Then after tighten-
ing the noose Parley waved at Seth. Seth took up the slack
in the lariat and went to the top of the canyon- A moment
later I saw Parley being slowly lifted to the rim of the cliff
by Danny's horse. When Parley reached the slope he tried to
stand up but his legs gave out under him. He let himself be
dragged all the way to the top.

Hal, Frank, and Howard began to cheer and shout and
jump up and down. I didn't join them. I was thinking only
of Tom. It seemed like a long time before Seth came back to
the rim of the cliff and tossed the coiled-up lariat over the
edge. Tom grabbed the noose part. He had a little trouble
getting it under his armpits on account of the other lariat,
but he finally made it. He tightened the noose.

"Haul away!" he shouted as he waved at Seth.

Not until my brother was safe on top did I join Hal,
Frank, and Howard in cheering and Jumping up and down
with joy. Then we rode to the mouth of the canyon with me
riding Dusty and leading Blaze. We arrived a few minutes
before Tom and the others got there riding double on
Seth's and Danny's horses. Parley looked a little pale but he
sure didn't act like a fellow who has just faced death.

"Where's my coonskin cap?" he asked.

"Boy, oh, boy," I said with disgust, "if that doesn't take
the cake. Tom just saved your life, and all you're worrying
about is your old coonskin cap."

"I thanked Tom for saving my life," he said, "Now

where is it?"

"At the bottom of the cliff where it fell," I answered.
And I'll be a rooster that lays eggs if Parley didn't jump

on Blaze and ride up the canyon to get his precious coonskin

cap.

147

Danny watched Parley ride away and then looked at
Tom. "Parley would be dead instead of worrying about his
coonskin cap if it weren't for you," he said. "He told Seth
and me when we got him on top that you reached him just
in time. He said he couldn't have held on tor more than a
few minutes longer."

We sat on logs talking about the rescue until Parley
returned wearing his coonskin cap. He jumped off Blaze,

Tom stood up "We've got two things to settle before we
start back," he said. "First, we can't tell anybody what hap-
pened today."

"Why not?" I asked. "You are a hero and everybody
should know it."

"That would include our parents," Tom said. "And the
parents of every kid in town. And you know what that would
mean. They would never let any of their sons come here to
play outlaw and posse again, including us."

We all agreed Tom was right and took an oath never to
tell.

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head.
"Now, that is settled," he said. "What was the other thing?"

Tom looked at me. "J.D., what time was it when I
reached Parley on the cliff?" he asked.

"I looked at the watch like you said," I told him. "It
was ten minutes past two and Howard is my witness."

Tom then turned to Parley. "The deadline for the posse
to catch you was two thirty," he said. "That means you lost
the bet and owe me a dollar."

"I didn't bring a dollar with me," Parley said, "because
I was sure the posse wouldn't catch me. I used that ledge to
outwit the posse the other times I was the outlaw and thought
I could do it again. I just lay there until the posse went

148

farther up the canyon and then climbed down and came
back here."

"We go right by your place on the way home," Tom
said. "You can give me the dollar then."

When we got to the Benson home Parley went into the
house. He came out and handed Tom a silver dollar. Tom
and I rode Dusty to our barn. We unsaddled the mustang and
gave him a rubdown. It was time to start doing the evening
chores when we came out of the barn.

"Know something, J.D.?" Tom said as he took the silver
dollar from his pocket and began flipping it up and down in
his hand. "This is a very important dollar,"

"Why shouldn't it be?" 1 asked. "It is the first honest
dollar you ever earned in your life."

"I did work very hard for this dollar," Tom said. "I
think I'll have it framed."

I knew why he wanted to frame the dollar. It wasn't to
remind him that he'd saved Parley's life. It was so when
people said The Great Brain had never earned an honest
dollar in his life, Tom could show it to them and prove they
were wrong.

"Speaking of money," Tom said as we reached the corral
gate, "before we start doing the chores let's go up to your
room so you can pay me the quarter you owe me."

"Boy, oh, boy," I said, "you've got a lot of nerve asking
me for that quarter we bet. If it hadn't been for me the posse
would never have captured the outlaw, and you would have
lost a dollar to Parley and a quarter to me."

"But the posse did capture the outlaw," Tom said,
"which means you owe me twenty-five cents. The trouble
with you, J.D., is that you don't play to win. You could have
won the bet very easily."

149

"And just how do you figure that?" I asked.

"If I'd been in your shoes," Tom said, "I would have
pretended I hadn't seen Parley on the ledge. Then I would
have gotten dressed and followed the posse upstream, giving
Parley the chance to outwit the posse."

"But that would be cheating the sheriff and the depu-
ties." I protested.

"It was only a game," Tom said. "And when you play
any game play it to win and don't worry about the other
fellow."

I knew right then life was just a game of outwitting the
other fellow to The Great Brain. He wouldn't reform until
cows started laying eggs and chickens began having calves. I
admit Tom did use his great brain to do good things like
solving the train robbery and murder, giving kids a chance
to see their first magic show, and saving Parley's life. But his
money-loving heart made him do bad things like swindling
the fellows by betting he could ride Chalky and cheating
them with his wheel of fortune.

Maybe the good he did with his great brain outweighed
the bad he did with his money-loving heart. And maybe not.
I don't know. But one thing I did know for sure was that
someday Tom would make the name of Fitzgerald famous.
His great brain would make him the savior of his country or
his money-loving heart make him the master confidence man
of all time. And some day for sure our family would either
be visiting Tom in the White House or in prison.

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