Sube Cane Part 32

"Well, I know where we can get some," said Gizzard. "There's a tree jus'

loaded with harvest apples right out behind the barn!"

Without another word both boys started for the opening by which they had entered, but Gizzard, being a little nearer, reached it first. While he was wriggling his way to the outside Sube tried the back door and found it fastened only by a hook. So it happened that when Gizzard reached the apple tree he found Sube already there with his cap half full of apples. Then the cider business began in earnest.

The apples were small and not very juicy, and the boys soon found that there was quite a little work connected with the manufacture of cider in commercial quant.i.ties. But they did manage to make a gla.s.sful apiece before they were compelled to knock off for the noon hour.

The partners went out by the back door, which they fastened shut with a piece of board; and as they walked home they made plans for the future conduct of their business.

"We got to put on a few hands to pick up the apples while we run the mill, if we want to increase our produck," Sube informed his partner gravely. "There's too much overhead for us to handle alone."

"I'd say there was too much underfoot," returned Gizzard with equal gravity. "What we want is apples--"

"I guess you don't understand much about bus'ness," was Sube's lofty comment. "Overhead's a reg'lar bus'ness word that means--means somethin'

special."

Gizzard defended his position heatedly. "I guess I know jus' much about it as you do!" he retorted. "Underfoot's a reg'lar word, too! And it means some'pm special! I've heard my dad use it a hundred times."

For a moment Sube maintained a discreet silence. He wanted to avoid having trouble with his partner at the very beginning of their business career if it could be done with honor; especially as the t.i.tle to the business was somewhat clouded. Then he said diplomatically:

"Well, anyway, we got to put on a few more hands to pick up apples."

"Right you are," agreed Gizzard. "Who we goin' to get?"

"Oh, we might hire Stucky Richards, and Cathead, and Cottontop Sigsbee.

S'pose that'll be enough?"

"We don't want to get too many! The more we have, the more cider they'll drink up."

"That's right. I guess they'll do."

The cider mill commenced business in earnest that afternoon with a full roster of hands. And they soon demonstrated their sufficiency, for apples were delivered at the press faster than the proprietors could dispose of them. When they had picked up all the apples on the ground they threshed the tree until hardly an apple was left on it; and they even went so far as to pick a bushel of crabapples for their employers.

The result of the afternoon's work (which was well up in the gallons) was placed in a convenient cask equipped with a spigot. Then the enterprise was reorganized as a saloon. Ol' Uncle George's workbench made an ideal bar, at which thirsty customers clamored for beer, liquor, and other ugly-sounding beverages, that Sube and Gizzard as bartenders served with a flourish an expert sodawater clerk might well have envied.

Then the histrionic muse, never far beneath the surface of youth, came forth and transformed the scene into an extemporaneous drama that was a howling success in spite of its leanings towards the morality play. This production, called by its authors, "Ten Knights in a Barroom"--was, in fact, so successful that the players promised themselves the pleasure of repeating it daily during the ensuing month.

But this proved to be impossible; for that night ol' Uncle George was called home by a fire in his shoe store.

The management declined to make use of ol' Uncle George's properties while he remained in town for fear that he might have occasion to use them himself, and thus bring about some slight unpleasantness in their hitherto delightful relations. Meanwhile the members of the company fidgeted and chafed under the delay.

A rehearsal attempted in Canes' barn was, for some unknown reason, a decided frost. Then they tried Stucky Richards' barn, which was right next door to ol' Uncle George's; and although things went somewhat better there, they lacked the zest of the initial performance.

Stucky's properties, as far as they went, were above criticism; his workbench made an excellent bar; his broken chairs were deliciously hopeless; his cuspidor was admitted by all to be much better than ol'

Uncle George's; his bottles and gla.s.sware were vastly superior; but there he stopped.

He had no cider press, and no means of getting one. He had no cider; and worst of all he had no spigot-equipped cask without which no disreputable saloon can exist.

But this was not all that troubled the Ten Knights in a Barroom company.

Professional jealousy crept in to plague their once placid ranks. By secretly consulting the faded poster in Severn's blacksmith shop (from which he had adapted the name for his production) Sube learned that he had overlooked a character. The next time the company a.s.sembled he attempted to rectify his error.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Say, you kids," he began; "we made a mistake about one thing. You can't all be Old Soaks. Somebody's got to be a little ragged girl that pleads with her drunken father to come home with her. Now who's goin' to be the little girl?"

Cathead thought he scented a conspiracy, and wishing to be on the safe side, volunteered to take the part of the drunken father.

"Not on your life!" cried Sube. "Somebody's got to be a little girl, and you'd make the best one of anybody here. Wouldn't he, kids?"

Stucky and Cottontop were positive that Cathead would make an ideal girl, and they so expressed themselves. But Cathead thought otherwise.

"I won't be a girl! I ain't goin' to be a girl! I never been one and I ain't ever goin' to be one!" he insisted.

"Now looka here, Cathead--" Gizzard began pleadingly.

"I won't look there! And I won't be a girl! I'll be a drunken father, but I'll never be a girl!"

"But somebody's _got_ to be a girl!" Sube urged desperately. "Now who's it goin' to be?"

He looked from Cottontop to Stucky and then back to Cottontop again, but there were no volunteers.

"I couldn't be it if I wanted to," Cottontop explained. "I'm too big to be a girl, and besides, there'd be n.o.body to take my part."

Then Stucky felt that he must have himself excused. "My voice is changin'," he said, purposely causing his voice to crack and waver.

"Hear how it acks! I couldn't be a girl with a voice like that.

Everybody'd be onto me in a second."

It seemed to be up to Cathead, but without waiting to be so informed Cathead began to bawl excitedly: "I won't be a girl! I won't be a girl!

And if you don't shut up I won't be in your ol' show at all!"

It was at this point that Biscuit Westfall appeared in the doorway, where he paused, a little uncertain as to his welcome; for the att.i.tude of the other boys towards him was subject to change without notice.

Sometimes he was tolerated; often he was told to go home; and more often he was tormented until he was glad to retire. Biscuit's life was too sheltered, his character too beautiful to make good company of him. Had he b.u.t.ted into the theater on the day previous he would have been unceremoniously kicked out; but to-day he was hailed with delight.

"We was jus' talkin' about you, Biscuit," Sube began cautiously. "We was wonderin' if you could take a part in our show."

Biscuit was overjoyed. His confidence was restored, and he entered without misgivings as he cried:

"_Can_ I? CAN I? Say! Watch me! _Watch_ me!"

Sube scratched his ear dubiously. "You've said a mouthful, Biscuit: _can_ you! It's a pretty hard part. Cathead, there, has been teasin' us to let him take it, but we don't think he can do it."

Cathead considered that this was placing him in a false position and tried to protest; but Biscuit drowned him out.

"Say! I've took part in everything they've had in Sunday School ever since I was a littie-bittie baby! I can take any ol' part!"

"Can you plead?" asked Sube.

"Can I plead? _Can_ I! Say! You jus' oughta hear me when I get started--"