Slaters.
But she could not get away from him. He stood in front of her and blocked her path. For once he was not wearing the black felt hat. He held out a plate of candy. He smiled shyly, but did not look happy.
"Know how to pull?" he asked.
"Shore do," she said.
They greased their hands. Shoestring clamped his hands on the ball of candy and they began to pull. The candy swung back and forth, growing lighter and paler in color and gradually hardening. Shoestring's hands were big and strong for pulling, but he said not a word.
All the boys and girls were laughing and screaming. Some got candy in their hair and had fun taking it out. Birdie wished she were with someone else. She watched Lank Tatum and Shad Harden. They liked fun, they knew how to laugh. Olema and Rofelia were having a fine time.
But Shoestring was as glum as if he were at a funeral.
"I got somethin' to tell you," he whispered.
Birdie looked at him.
His eyes were sullen. His lips were closed in a hard thin line. Couldn't he laugh a little even at a frolic! If he couldn't laugh, he might could stay home. Why, there was always more fun at candy-pullings than at anything else. Why did he have to spoil everything!
"Trouble again," said Shoestring, mysteriously.
Birdie was sick of the word, but she said nothing.
Shoestring took out his knife and cut the hardened candy into pieces. They held the plateful between them as they stood under the umbrella tree. The little girls' play dollies were lying there on the bench.
"What is it?" asked Birdie.
Shoestring offered her candy, and she put a piece in her mouth.
"Pa knows about your new barbed-wire fence," said he.
"What of it?"
"Our ponds got all dried up from the dry summer," explained the boy, "so this morning Pa told me to drive the cows over to Catfish Lake for water. I got on my cowhorse and.. ."
"Then what?" asked Birdie.
He offered her candy, but she couldn't eat any more. "I come right back. I role Pa: Boyer's done fenced in the right o' way to the lake.'"
"Pa and Buzz been so busy all summer," said Birdie, "they jest got round to puttin' the fence up last week. What'd you tell him for?"
"Had to. He'd a found it out for himself," said Shoestring. "What's he fixin' to do?"
"Make trouble."
"But he come to our cane grindin' and he's in the house right now callin' all the dances," cried Birdie in protest. "He dent mean us no harm."
"Don't he!" The boy spoke scornfully.
'"How you know?"
Shoestring hesitated, looking at her hard. Then he said, "He's got the pliers in his pocket."
CHAPTER VIII
Cattle
I jest knew he would!" said Pa. He spat in the sand.
"What you fixin' to do, Pa!" asked Birdie.
Mr. Boyer put his hand under her chin and tilted up her birdlike face. "Sugar," he said softly, "don't you git worried now.
"You won't make a ruckus, Pa!" she asked. "Ma says you jest love to make a ruckus."
"Sugar, I'm studyin' what's best to do," said Pa. "Of one thing I'm certain. When there's trouble waitin' for you, you jest as good go out to meet it."
It was the morning after the cane grinding. Birdie had found tracks of cattle running straight through the strawberry field, across the pasture and on down to the lake. The new wire fence had been deliberately cut to let the cattle through.
Her father looked at the trampled strawberries and the mangled fence.
"He ain't forgot, after all!" he said.
Birdie had not believed Slater would do it, even when Shoestring told her about the pliers. That time, in early summer, when Pa Boyer had marked the hog's ears, as a warning to Slater, nothing had happened except the note on the porch, which she herself tore to bits.
After that, the hogs had not come so often. She wondered if Shoestring fed them every night and if regular feeding had kept them home. He never told her, and she had never asked him. Some way, she didn't like to bring the subject up.
It was better, as Pa said, to let sleeping hogs lie. Time enough, when they woke, to deal with them.
But she could not get away from him. He stood in front of her and blocked her path. For once he was not wearing the black felt hat. He held out a plate of candy. He smiled shyly, but did not look happy.
"Know how to pull?" he asked.
"Shore do," she said.
They greased their hands. Shoestring clamped his hands on the ball of candy and they began to pull. The candy swung back and forth, growing lighter and paler in color and gradually hardening. Shoestring's hands were big and strong for pulling, but he said not a word.
All the boys and girls were laughing and screaming. Some got candy in their hair and had fun taking it out. Birdie wished she were with someone else. She watched Lank Tatum and Shad Harden. They liked fun, they knew how to laugh. Olema and Rofelia were having a fine time.
But Shoestring was as glum as if he were at a funeral.
"I got somethin' to tell you," he whispered.
Birdie looked at him.
His eyes were sullen. His lips were closed in a hard thin line. Couldn't he laugh a little even at a frolic! If he couldn't laugh, he might could stay home. Why, there was always more fun at candy-pullings than at anything else. Why did he have to spoil everything!
"Trouble again," said Shoestring, mysteriously.
Birdie was sick of the word, but she said nothing.
Shoestring took out his knife and cut the hardened candy into pieces. They held the plateful between them as they stood under the umbrella tree. The little girls' play dollies were lying there on the bench.
"What is it?" asked Birdie.
Shoestring offered her candy, and she put a piece in her mouth.
"Pa knows about your new barbed-wire fence," said he.
"What of it?"
"Our ponds got all dried up from the dry summer," explained the boy, "so this morning Pa told me to drive the cows over to Catfish Lake for water. I got on my cowhorse and.. ."
"Then what?" asked Birdie.
He offered her candy, but she couldn't eat any more. "I come right back. I role Pa: Boyer's done fenced in the right o' way to the lake.'"
"Pa and Buzz been so busy all summer," said Birdie, "they jest got round to puttin' the fence up last week. What'd you tell him for?"
"Had to. He'd a found it out for himself," said Shoestring. "What's he fixin' to do?"
"Make trouble."
"But he come to our cane grindin' and he's in the house right now callin' all the dances," cried Birdie in protest. "He dent mean us no harm."
"Don't he!" The boy spoke scornfully.
'"How you know?"
Shoestring hesitated, looking at her hard. Then he said, "He's got the pliers in his pocket."
CHAPTER VIII
Cattle
I jest knew he would!" said Pa. He spat in the sand.
"What you fixin' to do, Pa!" asked Birdie.
Mr. Boyer put his hand under her chin and tilted up her birdlike face. "Sugar," he said softly, "don't you git worried now.
"You won't make a ruckus, Pa!" she asked. "Ma says you jest love to make a ruckus."
"Sugar, I'm studyin' what's best to do," said Pa. "Of one thing I'm certain. When there's trouble waitin' for you, you jest as good go out to meet it."
It was the morning after the cane grinding. Birdie had found tracks of cattle running straight through the strawberry field, across the pasture and on down to the lake. The new wire fence had been deliberately cut to let the cattle through.
Her father looked at the trampled strawberries and the mangled fence.
"He ain't forgot, after all!" he said.
Birdie had not believed Slater would do it, even when Shoestring told her about the pliers. That time, in early summer, when Pa Boyer had marked the hog's ears, as a warning to Slater, nothing had happened except the note on the porch, which she herself tore to bits.
After that, the hogs had not come so often. She wondered if Shoestring fed them every night and if regular feeding had kept them home. He never told her, and she had never asked him. Some way, she didn't like to bring the subject up.
It was better, as Pa said, to let sleeping hogs lie. Time enough, when they woke, to deal with them.
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