Penrod and Sam
B >>
Booth Tarkington >> Penrod and Sam
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 This etext was scanned by Ken Smidge of Mt. Clemens, MI.
PENROD AND SAM
Contents
I. Penrod and Sam
II. The Bonded Prisoner
III. The Militarist
IV. Bingism
V. The In-Or-In
VI. Georgie Becomes a Member
VII. Whitey
VIII. Salvage
IX. Reward of Merit
X. Conscience
XI. The Tonic
XII. Gipsy
XIII. Concerning Trousers
XIV. Camera Work in the Jungle
XV. A Model Letter to a Friend
XVI. Wednesday Madness
XVII. Penrod's Busy Day
XVIII. On Account of the Weather
XIX. Creative Art
XX. The Departing Guest
XXI. Yearnings
XXII. The Horn of Fame
XXIII. The Party
XXIV. The Heart of Marjorie Jones
CHAPTER I. PENROD AND SAM
During the daylight hours of several autumn Saturdays there had
been severe outbreaks of cavalry in the Schofield neighbourhood.
The sabres were of wood; the steeds were imaginary, and both were
employed in a game called "bonded pris'ner" by its inventors,
Masters Penrod Schofield and Samuel Williams. The pastime was not
intricate. When two enemies met, they fenced spectacularly until
the person of one or the other was touched by the opposing
weapon; then, when the ensuing claims of foul play had been
disallowed and the subsequent argument settled, the combatant
touched was considered to be a prisoner until such time as he
might be touched by the hilt of a sword belonging to one of his
own party, which effected his release and restored to him the
full enjoyment of hostile activity. Pending such rescue, however,
he was obliged to accompany the forces of his captor
whithersoever their strategical necessities led them, which
included many strange places. For the game was exciting, and, at
its highest pitch, would sweep out of an alley into a stable, out
of that stable and into a yard, out of that yard and into a
house, and through that house with the sound (and effect upon
furniture) of trampling herds. In fact, this very similarity must
have been in the mind of the distressed coloured woman in Mrs.
Williams's kitchen, when she declared that she might "jes' as
well try to cook right spang in the middle o' the stock-yards."
All up and down the neighbourhood the campaigns were waged,
accompanied by the martial clashing of wood upon wood and by many
clamorous arguments.
"You're a pris'ner, Roddy Bitts!"
"I am not!"
"You are, too! I touched you."
"Where, I'd like to know!"
"On the sleeve."
"You did not! I never felt it. I guess I'd 'a' felt it, wouldn't
I?"
"What if you didn't? I touched you, and you're bonded. I leave it
to Sam Williams."
"Yah! Course you would! He's on your side! _I_ leave it to
Herman."
"No, you won't! If you can't show any SENSE about it, we'll do it
over, and I guess you'll see whether you feel it or not! There!
NOW, I guess you--"
"Aw, squash!"
Strangely enough, the undoubted champion proved to be the
youngest and darkest of all the combatants, one Verman,
coloured, brother to Herman, and substantially under the size to
which his nine years entitled him. Verman was unfortunately
tongue-tied, but he was valiant beyond all others, and, in spite
of every handicap, he became at once the chief support of his own
party and the despair of the opposition.
On the third Saturday this opposition had been worn down by the
successive captures of Maurice Levy and Georgie Bassett until it
consisted of only Sam Williams and Penrod. Hence, it behooved
these two to be wary, lest they be wiped out altogether; and Sam
was dismayed indeed, upon cautiously scouting round a corner of
his own stable, to find himself face to face with the valorous
and skilful Verman, who was acting as an outpost, or picket, of
the enemy.
Verman immediately fell upon Sam, horse and foot, and Sam would
have fied but dared not, for fear he might be touched from the
rear. Therefore, he defended himself as best he could, and there
followed a lusty whacking, in the course of which Verman's hat, a
relic and too large, fell from his head, touching Sam's weapon in
falling.
"There!" panted Sam, desisting immediately. "That counts! You're
bonded, Verman."
"Aim meewer!" Verman protested.
Interpreting this as "Ain't neither", Sam invented a law to suit
the occasion. "Yes, you are; that's the rule, Verman. I touched
your hat with my sword, and your hat's just the same as you."
"Imm mop!" Verman insisted.
"Yes, it is," said Sam, already warmly convinced (by his own
statement) that he was in the right. "Listen here! If I hit you
on the shoe, it would be the same as hitting YOU, wouldn't it? I
guess it'd count if I hit you on the shoe, wouldn't it? Well, a
hat's just the same as shoes. Honest, that's the rule, Verman,
and you're a pris'ner."
Now, in the arguing part of the game, Verman's impediment
cooperated with a native amiability to render him far less
effective than in the actual combat. He chuckled, and ceded the
point.
"Aw wi," he said, and cheerfully followed his captor to a hidden
place among some bushes in the front yard, where Penrod lurked.
"Looky what _I_ got!" Sam said importantly, pushing his captive
into this retreat. "NOW, I guess you won't say I'm not so much
use any more! Squat down, Verman, so's they can't see you if
they're huntin' for us. That's one o' the rules--honest. You got
to squat when we tell you to."
Verman was agreeable. He squatted, and then began to laugh
uproariously.
"Stop that noise!" Penrod commanded. "You want to bekray us? What
you laughin' at?"
"Ep mack im mimmup," Verman giggled.
"What's he mean?" Sam asked.
Penrod was more familiar with Verman's utterance, and he
interpreted.
"He says they'll get him back in a minute."
"No, they won't. I'd just like to see--"
"Yes, they will, too," Penrod said. "They'll get him back for the
main and simple reason we can't stay here al1 day, can we? And
they'd find us anyhow, if we tried to. There's so many of 'em
against just us two, they can run in and touch him soon as they
get up to us--and then HE'LL be after us again and--"
"Listen here!" Sam interrupted. "Why can't we put some REAL bonds
on him? We could put bonds on his wrists and around his legs--we
could put 'em all over him, easy as nothin'. Then we could gag
him--"
"No, we can't," said Penrod. "We can't, for the main and simple
reason we haven't got any rope or anything to make the bonds
with, have we? I wish we had some o' that stuff they give sick
people. THEN, I bet they wouldn't get him back so soon!"
"Sick people?" Sam repeated, not comprehending.
"It makes 'em go to sleep, no matter what you do to 'em," Penrod
explained. "That's the main and simple reason they can't wake up,
and you can cut off their ole legs--or their arms, or anything
you want to."
"Hoy!" exclaimed Verman, in a serious tone. His laughter ceased
instantly, and he began to utter a protest sufficiently
intelligible.
"You needn't worry," Penrod said gloomily. "We haven't got any o'
that stuff; so we can't do it."
"Well, we got to do sumpthing," Sam said.
His comrade agreed, and there was a thoughtful silence; but
presently Penrod's countenance brightened.
"I know!" he exclaimed. "_I_ know what we'll do with him. Why, I
thought of it just as EASY! I can most always think of things
like that, for the main and simple reason--well, I thought of it
just as soon--"
"Well, what is it?" Sam demanded crossly. Penrod's reiteration of
his new-found phrase, "for the main and simple reason", had been
growing more and more irksome to his friend all day, though Sam
was not definitely aware that the phrase was the cause of his
annoyance. "WHAT are we goin' to do with him, you know so much?"
Penrod rose and peered over the tops of the bushes, shading his
eyes with his hand, a gesture that was unnecessary but had a good
appearance. He looked all round about him in this manner, finally
vouchsafing a report to the impatient Sam.
"No enemies in sight--just for the main and simple reason I
expect they're all in the alley and in Georgie Bassett's
backyard."
"I bet they're not!" Sam said scornfully, his irritation much
increased. "How do YOU know so much about it?"
"Just for the main and simple reason," Penrod replied, with
dignified finality.
And at that, Sam felt a powerful impulse to do violence upon the
person of his comrade-in-arms. The emotion that prompted this
impulse was so primitive and straightforward that it almost
resulted in action; but Sam had a vague sense that he must
control it as long as he could.
"Bugs!" he said.
Penrod was sensitive, and this cold word hurt him. However, he
was under the domination of his strategic idea, and he
subordinated private grievance to the common weal. "Get up!" he
commanded. "You get up, too, Verman. You got to--it's the rule.
Now here I'll SHOW you what we're goin' to do. Stoop over, and
both o' you do just exacklv like _I_ do. You watch ME, because
this biz'nuss has got to be done RIGHT!"
Sam muttered something; he was becoming more insurgent every
moment, but he obeyed. Likewise, Verman rose to his feet, ducked
his head between his shoulders, and trotted out to the sidewalk
at Sam's heels, both following Penrod and assuming a stooping
position in imitation of him. Verman was delighted with this
phase of the game, and, also, he was profoundly amused by
Penrod's pomposity. Something dim and deep within him perceived
it to be cause for such merriment that he had ado to master
himself, and was forced to bottle and cork his laughter with both
hands. They proved insufficient; sputterings burst forth between
his fingers.
"You stop that!" Penrod said, looking back darkly upon the
prisoner.
Verman endeavoured to oblige, though giggles continued to leak
from him at intervals, and the three boys stole along the fence
in single file, proceeding in this fashion until they reached
Penrod's own front gate. Here the leader ascertained, by a
reconnaissance as far as the corner, that the hostile forces were
still looking for them in another direction. He returned in a
stealthy but important manner to his disgruntled follower and the
hilarious captive.
"Well," said Sam impatiently, "I guess I'm not goin' to stand
around here all day, I guess! You got anything you want to do,
why'n't you go on and DO it?"
Penrod's brow was already contorted to present the appearance of
detached and lofty concentration--a histrionic failure, since it
did not deceive the audience. He raised a hushing hand.
"SH!" he murmured. "I got to think."
"Bugs!" the impolite Mr. Williams said again.
Verman bent double, squealing and sputtering; indeed, he was
ultimately forced to sit upon the ground, so exhausting was the
mirth to which he now gave way. Penrod's composure was somewhat
affected and he showed annoyance.
"Oh, I guess you won't laugh quite so much about minute from now,
ole Mister Verman!" he said severely. "You get up from there and
do like I tell you."
"Well, why'n't you TELL him why he won't laugh so much, then?"
Sam demanded, as Verman rose. "Why'n't you do sumpthing and quit
talkin' so much about it?"
Penrod haughtily led the way into the yard.
"You follow me," he said, "and I guess you'll learn a little
sense!"
Then, abandoning his hauteur for an air of mystery equally
irritating to Sam, he stole up the steps of the porch, and, after
a moment's manipulation of the knob of the big front door,
contrived to operate the fastenings, and pushed the door open.
"Come on," he whispered, beckoning. And the three boys mounted
the stairs to the floor above in silence--save for a belated
giggle on the part of Verman, which was restrained upon a
terrible gesture from Penrod. Verman buried his mouth as deeply
as possible in a ragged sleeve, and confined his demonstrations
to a heaving of the stomach and diaphragm.
Penrod led the way into the dainty room of his nineteen-year-old
sister, Margaret, and closed the door.
"There," he said, in a low and husky voice, "I expect you'll see
what I'm goin' to do now!"
"Well, what?" the skeptical Sam asked. "If we stay here very long
your mothertll come and send us downstairs. What's the good of--"
"WAIT, can't you?" Penrod wailed, in a whisper. "My goodness!"
And going to an inner door, he threw it open, disclosing a
clothes-closet hung with pretty garments of many kinds, while
upon its floor were two rows of shoes and slippers of great
variety and charm.
A significant thing is to be remarked concerning the door of this
somewhat intimate treasury: there was no knob or latch upon the
inner side, so that, when the door was closed, it could be opened
only from the outside.
"There!" said Penrod. "You get in there, Verman, and I'll bet
they won't get to touch you back out o' bein' our pris'ner very
soon, NOW! Oh, I guess not!"
"Pshaw!" said Sam. "Is that all you were goin' to do? Why, your
mother'll come and make him get out the first--"
"No, she won't. She and Margaret have gone to my aunt's in the
country, and aren't goin' to be back till dark. And even if he
made a lot o' noise, it's kind of hard to hear anything from in
there, anyway, when the door's shut. Besides, he's got to keep
quiet--that's the rule, Verman. You're a pris'ner, and it's the
rule you can't holler or nothin'. You unnerstand that, Verman?"
"Aw wi," said Verman.
"Then go on in there. Hurry!"
The obedient Verman marched into the closet and sat down among
the shoes and slippers, where he presented an interesting effect
of contrast. He was still subject to hilarity--though
endeavouring to suppress it by means of a patent-leather
slipper--when Penrod closed the door.
"There!" said Penrod, leading the way from the room. "I guess NOW
you see!"
Sam said nothing, and they came out to the open air and reached
their retreat in the Williams' yard again, without his having
acknowledged Penrod's service to their mutual cause.
"I thought of that just as easy!" Penrod remarked, probably
prompted to this odious bit of complacency by Sam's withholding
the praise that might naturally have been expected. And he was
moved to add, "I guess it'd of been a pretty long while if we'd
had to wait for you to think of something as good as that, Sam."
"Why would it?" Sam asked. "Why would it of been such a long
while?"
"Oh," Penrod responded airily, "just for the main and simple
reason!"
Sam could bear it no longer. "Oh, hush up!" he shouted.
Penrod was stung. "Do you mean ME?" he demanded.
"Yes, I do!" the goaded Sam replied.
"Did you tell ME to hush up?"
"Yes, I did!"
"I guess you don't know who you're talkin' to," Penrod asid
ominously. "I guess I just better show you who you're talkin' to
like that. I guess you need a little sumpthing, for the main and
simple--"
Sam uttered an uncontrollable howl and sprang upon Penrod,
catching him round the waist. Simultaneously with this impact,
the wooden swords spun through the air and were presently trodden
underfoot as the two boys wrestled to and fro.
Penrod was not altogether surprised by the onset of his friend.
He had been aware of Sam's increasing irritation (though neither
boy could have clearly stated its cause) and that very irritation
produced a corresponding emotion in the bosom of the irritator.
Mentally, Penrod was quite ready for the conflict--nay, he
welcomed it--though, for the first few moments, Sam had the
physical advantage.
However, it is proper that a neat distinction be drawn here. This
was a conflict; but neither technically nor in the intention of
the contestants was it a fight. Penrod and Sam were both in a
state of high exasperation, and there was great bitterness; but
no blows fell and no tears. They strained, they wrenched, they
twisted, and they panted and muttered: "Oh, no, you don't!" "Oh,
I guess I do!" "Oh, you will, will you?" "You'll see what you get
in about a minute!" "I guess you'll learn some sense this time!"
Streaks and blotches began to appear upon the two faces, where
colour had been heightened by the ardent application of a cloth
sleeve or shoulder, while ankles and insteps were scraped and
toes were trampled. Turf and shrubberies suffered, also, as the
struggle went on, until finally the wrestlers pitched headlong
into a young lilac bush, and came to earth together, among its
crushed and sprawling branches.
"OOCH!" and "WUF!" were the two exclamations which marked this
episode, and then, with no further comment, the struggle was
energetically continued upon a horizontal plane. Now Penrod was
on top, now Sam; they rolled, they squirmed, they suffered. And
this contest endured. It went on and on, and it was impossible to
imagine its coming to a definite termination. It went on so long
that to both the participants it seemed to be a permanent thing,
a condition that had always existed and that must always exist
perpetually.
And thus they were discovered by a foray of the hostile party,
headed by Roddy Bitts and Herman (older brother to Verman) and
followed by the bonded prisoners, Maurice Levy and Georgie
Bassett. These and others caught sight of the writhing figures,
and charged down upon them with loud cries of triumph.
"Pris'ner! Pris'ner! Bonded pris'ner!" shrieked Roddy Bitts, and
touched Penrod and Sam, each in turn, with his sabre. Then,
seeing that they paid no attention and that they were at his
mercy, he recalled the fact that several times, during earlier
stages of the game, both of them had been unnecessarily vigorous
in "touching" his own rather plump person. Therefore, the
opportunity being excellent, he raised his weapon again, and,
repeating the words "bonded pris'ner" as ample explanation of his
deed, brought into play the ful1 strength of his good right arm.
He used the flat of the sabre.
WHACK! WHACK! Roddy was perfectly impartial. It was a
cold-blooded performance and even more effective than he
anticipated. For one thing, it ended the civil war instantly. Sam
and Penrod leaped to their feet, shrieking and bloodthirsty,
while Maurice Levy capered with joy, Herman was so overcome that
he rolled upon the ground, and Georgie Bassett remarked
virtuously:
"It serves them right for fighting."
But Roddy Bitts foresaw that something not within the rules of
the game was about to happen.
"Here! You keep away from me!" he quavered, retreating. "I was
just takin' you pris'ners. I guess I had a right to TOUCH you,
didn't I?"
Alas! Neither Sam nor Penrod was able to see the matter in that
light. They had retrieved their own weapons, and they advanced
upon Roddy with a purposefulness that seemed horrible to him.
"Here! You keep away from me!" he said, in great alarm. "I'm
goin' home."
He did go home--but only subsequently. What took place before his
departure had the singular solidity and completeness of
systematic violence; also, it bore the moral beauty of all
actions that lead to peace and friendship, for, when it was over,
and the final vocalizations of Roderick Magsworth Bitts, Junior,
were growing faint with increasing distance, Sam and Penrod had
forgotten their differences and felt well disposed toward each
other once more. All their animosity was exhausted, and they were
in a glow of good feeling, though probably they were not
conscious of any direct gratitude to Roddy, whose thoughtful
opportunism was really the cause of this happy result.
CHAPTER II. THE BONDED PRISONER
After such rigorous events, every one comprehended that the game
of bonded prisoner was over, and there was no suggestion that it
should or might be resumed. The fashion of its conclusion had
been so consummately enjoyed by all parties (with the natural
exception of Roddy Bitts) that a renewal would have been tame;
hence, the various minds of the company turned to other
matters and became restless. Georgie Bassett withdrew first,
remembering that if he expected to be as wonderful as usual,
to-morrow, in Sunday-school, it was time to prepare himself,
though this was not included in the statement he made
alleging the cause of his departure. Being detained bodily
and pressed for explanation, he desperately said that he had to
go home to tease the cook--which had the rakehelly air he thought
would insure his release, but was not considered plausible.
However, he was finally allowed to go, and, as first hints of
evening were already cooling and darkening the air, the party
broke up, its members setting forth, whistling, toward their
several homes, though Penrod lingered with Sam. Herman was the
last to go from them.
"Well, I got git 'at stove-wood f' suppuh," he said, rising and
stretching himself. "I got git 'at lil' soap-box wagon, an' go on
ovuh wheres 'at new house buil'in' on Secon' Street; pick up few
shingles an' blocks layin' roun'."
He went through the yard toward the alley, and, at the alley
gate, remembering something, he paused and called to them. The
lot was a deep one, and they were too far away to catch his
meaning. Sam shouted, "Can't HEAR you!" and Herman replied, but
still unintelligibly; then, upon Sam's repetition of "Can't HEAR
you!" Herman waved his arm in farewell, implying that the matter
was of little significance, and vanished. But if they had
understood him, Penrod and Sam might have considered his inquiry
of instant importance, for Herman's last shout was to ask if
either of them had noticed "where Verman went."
Verman and Verman's whereabouts were, at this hour, of no more
concern to Sam and Penrod than was the other side of the moon.
That unfortunate bonded prisoner had been long since utterly
effaced from their fields of consciousness, and the dark secret
of their Bastille troubled them not--for the main and simple
reason that they had forgotten it.
They drifted indoors, and found Sam's mother's white cat drowsing
on a desk in the library, the which coincidence obviously
inspired the experiment of ascertaining how successfully ink
could be used in making a clean white cat look like a coach-dog.
There was neither malice nor mischief in their idea; eimply, a
problem presented itself to the biological and artistic
questionings beginning to stir within them. They did not mean to
do the cat the slightest injury or to cause her any pain. They
were above teasing cats, and they merely detained this one and
made her feel a little wet--at considerable cost to themselves
from both the ink and the cat. However, at the conclusion of
their efforts, it was thought safer to drop the cat out of the
window before anybody came, and, after some hasty work with
blotters, the desk was moved to cover certain sections of the
rug, and the two boys repaired to the bathroom for hot water and
soap. They knew they had done nothing wrong; but they felt easier
when the only traces remaining upon them were the less prominent
ones upon their garments.
These precautions taken, it was time for them to make their
appearance at Penrod's house for dinner, for it had been
arranged, upon petition earlier in the day, that Sam should be
his friend's guest for the evening meal. Clean to the elbows and
with light hearts, they set forth. They marched,
whistling--though not producing a distinctly musical effect,
since neither had any particular air in mind--and they found
nothing wrong with the world; they had not a care. Arrived at
their adjacent destination, they found Miss Margaret Schofield
just entering the front door.
"Hurry, boys!" she said. "Mamma came home long before I did, and
I'm sure dinner is waiting. Run on out to the dining-room and
tell them I'll be right down."
And, as they obeyed, she mounted the stairs, humming a little
tune and unfastening the clasp of the long, light-blue military
cape she wore. She went to her own quiet room, lit the gas,
removed her hat and placed it and the cape upon the bed; after
which she gave her hair a push, subsequent to her scrutiny of a
mirror; then, turning out the light, she went as far as the door.
Being an orderly girl, she returned to the bed and took the cape
and the hat to her clothes-closet. She opened the door of this
sanctuary, and, in the dark, hung her cape upon a hook and placed
her hat upon the shelf. Then she closed the door again, having
noted nothing unusual, though she had an impression that the
place needed airing. She descended to the dinner table.
The other members of the family were already occupied with the
meal, and the visitor was replying politely, in his
non-masticatory intervals, to inquiries concerning the health of
his relatives. So sweet and assured was the condition of Sam and
Penrod that Margaret's arrival from her room meant nothing to
them. Their memories were not stirred, and they continued eating,
their expressions brightly placid.
But from out of doors there came the sound of a calling and
questing voice, at first in the distance, then growing
louder--coming nearer.
"Oh, Ver-er-man! O-o-o-oh, Ver-er-ma-a-an!"
It was the voice of Herman.
"OO-O-O-O-OH, VER-ER-ER-MA-A-A-AN!"
And then two boys sat stricken at that cheerful table and ceased
to eat. Recollection awoke with a bang!
"Oh, my!" Sam gasped.
"What's the matter?" Mr. Schofield said. "Swallow something the
wrong way, Sam?"
"Ye-es, sir."
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6