Luck and Pluck

"Yes, I'm going there. Don't you want a ride?"

"That's just what I was going to ask. I'm willing to pay for it."

"I don't want any pay," said the boy; "I'd rather have company than go alone."

"How far is Milbank?"

"It's a pretty good piece,—most five miles."

John was glad he had not attempted to walk.

"You don't live round here, do you?" asked John's new acquaintance.

"No."

"I thought I hadn't seen you. Whereabouts are you stayin'?"

"At Mr. Huxter's."

"Is he a relation of yours?" asked the boy, looking at John with interest.

"No, he isn't," said John, hastily, unwilling for a moment to have it supposed that there was any such tie between him and his temporary host.

"Are you going to stay long?"

John was not surprised at these questions, for in the country, where he had always lived, it was the rule to be inquisitive about other people's affairs, and he felt that he ought to make some return for his ride.

"I don't think I shall," he said.

He would like to have replied decidedly in the negative; but he felt that he was by no means certain about the length of his stay.

"How do you like Huxter?" asked his new acquaintance, with rather a comical look.

"I've seen men I liked better," said John, smiling.

"Shouldn't wonder," said the other. "He gets awful tight sometimes."

"It is a pity," said John, "for Mrs. Huxter seems to be a good sort of a woman, and it must be hard on her."

"It would be hard for any woman to have such a husband. I don't know Mrs. Huxter much, but I never heard anything against her. I've a great mind to tell you," said the boy, looking at John to judge whether he appeared as if he might be trusted with a secret, "a trick that one or two of the fellows played on Mr. Huxter once when he was drunk. But you'll be sure not to tell?"

John, whose curiosity was somewhat excited, gave the required promise.

"You see," continued his informant, "I was walking along with George Sprague one afternoon, when we came across old Huxter lying side of the road as drunk as he could be. George is rather a wild boy, and always up to some mischief or other. That afternoon he happened to have a little red paint, which he had got at the painter's shop for his father to use. As soon as we saw old Huxter snoring away, George winked to me, and said, 'Huxter's nose is red, but I've a great mind to make it a little redder. I should like to see how the old fellow will look.' With that he took out his brush, and touched Huxter's nose with it lightly, making it as red as a brick. I was afraid he would wake up and chase us, for he's pretty violent when he's drunk; but he was too far gone, and never stirred. George took the paint home, and then we came out to see if Huxter had gone home. We found he had, and we afterwards heard how the trick came out."

"When he got home and went into the kitchen, Mrs. Huxter screamed as soon as she saw him.

"'What's the matter with you?' he growled.

"'O Mr. Huxter!' she said, clasping her hands, 'I knew that drinking would be the ruin of you.'

"'Then you're a fool,' he said. 'Drinking a little now and then don't do me any harm; but you're a woman, and have no more sense than a kitten.'

"'You don't believe me, look at your nose,' said his wife.

"'What's the matter with my nose?' asked old Huxter, a little surprised.

"'Look at it, and you won't be surprised at my words.'

"With that Huxter did look, and when he saw his nose glaring red, he was pretty well frightened, I can tell you. He had no more suspicion than his wife that any one had been playing a trick upon him, and he was afraid that his nose would always be so. He got frightened and went to bed, and then asked his wife to go for the doctor."

"Did the doctor tell him how it was?"

"No; he thought it would do him no harm to be frightened a little; so he lectured him about his habits, but told him that he thought he could cure him this time by using a warm lotion. It was nothing but warm water, with something put in to stain the water and make him think it was something else; but Huxter did not know that, and was very grateful to the doctor for relieving him.

"The fright had such an effect upon him that he didn't drink anything for a whole week. Then he began again, and got bolder by degrees, till now he's as bad as ever."

"How did you find out how the doctor treated the case?"

"Because George Sprague is the doctor's son. The doctor told all about it at home as a good joke. George heard it all, but never breathed a word to his father about his being the one that painted Huxter's nose. The doctor didn't say anything to George, but he looked at him rather queerly, as if he had some suspicion. It was a good joke,—wasn't it?"

"It would have turned out pretty well if it had stopped Mr. Huxter's drinking."

"Nothing will do that. He's a pretty hard case But you mustn't say a word about what I've been telling you. It would get George and me into trouble."

"No, I won't say anything about it."

"Where do you live?"

"In Hampton."

"Whereabouts is that? Is it far from here?"

"About eighty miles, I should think. It lies to the north."

"Is it a pleasant place?"

"I think so; but then I was born there, you know, and perhaps that is the reason I think so."

"Well, I was born in Jackson, but I don't think much of it. I guess we'll move away next spring. Father talks of selling his farm. What is your name?"

"My name is John Oakley."

"And mine is David Wallace."

The boys now felt thoroughly acquainted, and chatted together on a variety of subjects, such as interest boys. While they were in the midst of their conversation, they came to a grist-mill.

"I must stop here about ten minutes, to leave my grain," said David. "The village is a mile further on. If you'll wait I'll carry you there afterwards."