Guns and Snowshoes; Or, the Winter Outing of the Young Hunters Part 3

"If old Mammy Shrader is hurt, you'll be to blame," called Snap after him.

"He's a coward," was Giant's comment. "I wish I had got a whack at him. He is much larger than I am, but I am not afraid of him."

While this scene was transpiring Shep and Whopper had helped old Mammy Shrader to a seat on the porch of a house not far from where she had gone down. The old woman complained of a pain in her side and it was next to impossible for her to take another step.

"I'll have to go home," she panted. "But how am I to get there?"

"Here comes Mr. Sell in his grocery wagon," cried Whopper. "Perhaps he'll give you a ride."

"Maybe he will--I buy my things from him," answered the old woman.

The grocer was stopped and the situation explained, and he readily volunteered to take Mammy Shrader to her home, located at no great distance. He and the boys helped her into the wagon.

"The boy who struck her ought to be horsewhipped," said the grocer.

"Fun is one thing, but hitting an old woman is quite another."

"Just what I say," answered Shep.

"Well, I knocked him down anyway," said Snap, coming up, and Giant told the details of the brief encounter.

Snap volunteered to go with the grocer, and between them they soon had Mammy Shrader at her home and lying on a couch. Shep hurried home and told his father the particulars of what had occurred.

"I will drive over and see her," said the doctor, and as his horse was. .h.i.tched up he went immediately.

"She is suffering from a sprain and from the jar," said the physician, after an examination. "She must take it easy for a week or so." Then a neighbor, who had dropped in, said she would look after the patient during that time.

"Carl Dudder ought to be made to pay for this," said Doctor Reed.

"The Dudders won't pay anything--Mr. Dudder is as miserly as they make him, even if he is well off," said Whopper.

"Perhaps he can be forced to pay," replied Snap.

When Carl Dudder heard that a doctor had been called in to attend Mammy Shrader he was much frightened. He went to consult Ham Spink about it. The two were hand-in-glove in everything.

"Are they sure you threw the s...o...b..ll?" asked Ham Spink, pointedly.

"They say they saw me."

"Who says so?"

"Oh, Snap Dodge and that crowd."

"Always that crowd!" muttered Ham Spink.

"They say they know you knocked Andrew Felps down," went on Dudder, finding some consolation in the fact that Ham was in difficulties too.

"They didn't see a thing!" roared the dudish youth.

"Well, that is what they say."

"Humph! Carl, they are bound to get us into trouble."

"Of course. They haven't got over last summer's trouble yet. I suppose they will make it as hot for us as they can."

"Well, let us stick together and maybe we can face them down," was Ham Spink's comment, and then he lit a cigarette and offered one to his crony, and both fell to smoking.

That very evening both youths had to "face the music," and in a manner which did not please them in the least.

Coming home just before supper Mr. Spink, found a note awaiting him.

It was from Andrew Felps and ran, in part, as follows:

"I have a complaint to make against your son Hamilton. To-day while I was on my way through the streets of our town I was a.s.sailed in the fashion of a ruffian by your son, who threw s...o...b..a.l.l.s at me, knocking me down and ruining my silk hat and a rare volume of history I was carrying. I demand that your son apologize to me for his actions or I shall make a complaint to the authorities."

"Hamilton, what does this mean?" demanded Mr. Spink, after perusing the communication several times.

"I don't know," answered the undutiful offspring brazenly.

"Did you s...o...b..ll Mr. Felps?"

"No. I didn't s...o...b..ll anybody."

"He says you did."

"He must be mistaken."

"It is mighty queer," muttered Mr. Spink. "I will look into this to-morrow."

"The old Harry take Felps anyway," muttered Ham to himself. "How did he learn I threw that s...o...b..ll? That Dodge crowd must have told him."

It was Mammy Shrader's neighbor, Samuel O'Brien, who called upon Mr.

Dudder.

"Sure, Mr. Dodder, yer son ought to be locked up, so he ought," said the Irishman. "It's him as is wantin' to kill old Mammy Shrader."

"Why, what do you mean, sir?" demanded Mr. Dudder, in amazement.

"Sure an' wasn't it Carl as knocked the old lady down to-day and laid her on a sick bed, wid a doctor, an' me wife to nurse her till she gits betther? Sure it's a bastly shame, so it is, an' Carl will go to the lock-up onless ye pay all the bills."

"I do not understand you."

"Thin I'll be after explainin'," answered Samuel O'Brien, and gave his story in full, to which Mr. Dudder listened in a nervous fashion. Then Carl was called into the room.

"What do you mean by making trouble in this fashion?" demanded Mr.

Dudder wrathfully.

"I didn't make trouble," said Carl, sullenly.

"Sure an' he did that," said the Irishman.