CHAPTER II
THE ENEMY
Before I go any deeper into my story I will tell you about our canal, for you will need this information to thoroughly understand what follows.
We call it the Tutter canal, for the reason that it runs through our small town. Over in Ashton, a neighboring small town, the kids call it the Ashton canal. It is a hundred miles long, I guess. Maybe longer. It was built by the state to connect the great lakes with the Gulf of Mexico through the Illinois River and the Mississippi River.
It isn’t more than forty feet wide where it passes through Tutter. One bank forms a tow path, which was necessary when the canal was new because in those olden days all of the grain boats were drawn by horses and mules. To-day the few boats that come through Tutter are drawn by smoky tugs.
In the same way that a single-track railroad has sidings that permit trains traveling in opposite directions to pass each other, our canal has “wide waters,” where the canal boats meet and pass. There is a wide waters below Tutter and another one between our town and Ashton. The biggest wide waters that I have seen is the one between Ashton and Steam Corners. Here the canal is more than a mile wide, a sort of lake, though the water for the most part is shallow, with a mud bottom. The channel is marked with parallel rows of piles painted white.
Dad says that before the canal was built the Oak Island wide waters was a swamp and the island that I am going to tell you about in my story was a rocky knoll. Of its many trees the largest one is an oak, which grows on the island’s highest point, and it is this noticeable oak that gained for the island its name.
Well, to get back to my story, we met at Scoop’s father’s grocery store the following morning, no less enthused over our scheme than we had been the preceding evening, each one supplied with his promised share of the new company’s working capital. As treasurer the money was turned over to me. I felt pretty big to have so much money in my pocket. And I sort of held my chest out as I hurried with the others to the brickyard dock to begin work on our show boat.
Having been built purposely for clay hauling, the flat-bottomed scow was mostly pit, with a deck at each square end. These decks were small, not more than fourteen feet wide (the width of the scow) by four feet deep, but we figured that we could build our stage on the front deck and have plenty of room. The audience seats were to be built in the pit. Such were our plans. And anxious to get everything in readiness, so that we could give our first show and begin earning money, we set to work.
There was a lot of old lumber in the brickyard. Dad said we could sort it over and use what pieces we needed if we would promise to bring the lumber back when we retired, wealthy, from the show business. We promised. And lugging the necessary material to the dock we sawed and nailed until we had the pit filled with benches. It was tiresome work, but we didn’t mind that. For a boy doesn’t mind working hard and getting slivers in his fingers when he is working for himself.
It took us all of the morning to make the seats. Before we could build the stage, the next important job, we had to get our painted canvas, which was stored in Red’s barn. We had other stuff, too, that we had used in our barn show; and, as it was too heavy to lug, Scoop borrowed one of his father’s delivery wagons.
We put in the best part of the afternoon working on the stage. It was a big job. First we built a framework for the lights, and back of that we fixed canvas wings, painted black, with a black canvas at the back and a black floor piece. Lacking the necessary material, we were unable to cover the stage and the seats. If it rained everything would get soaked. But we couldn’t help that.
“Now,” said Scoop, directing the work, “we’ll build a ticket stand, and when that job is done we’ll call it a day and quit.”
Peg straightened and looked around, sort of checking up on our work.
“Seats made—stage built—ticket stand won’t take more than an hour.” He looked at us in turn. “Fellows, we ought to be able to open up for business to-morrow night. What do you think?”
“Easy,” I said.
While we were working on the ticket stand a gang of five boys our age came into sight.
“What yo’ doin’?” Bid Stricker wanted to know from the dock.
We don’t like the Strickers for two cents. They’re a bunch of roughnecks. All they ever want to do is to fight and play mean tricks on people. We don’t believe in that. And because we won’t gang with them, and do the mean things they do, they have it in for us.
“Beat it,” growled Scoop, motioning the unwelcome newcomers away.
But they didn’t budge.
“Must be some kind of a show,” Bid hung on, letting out his neck at the stage and seats.
“Tell them,” I nudged our leader. “Maybe we can get some money out of them.”
“Yes,” Scoop told the inquisitive ones, following my advice, “we’re going to give a show. Ten cents for kids. And it’s a peachy show, too. You fellows want to come and see it. You’ll be sorry if you miss it.”
“What kind of a show?” Bid inquired.
“Magic.”
“Who’s the magician?”
“Me,” Scoop informed modestly, putting out his chest.
Bid’s cousin gave a scornful laugh.
“A punk show, I bet.”
“Punk is right,” another member of the gang chimed in. “Look at the punk seats,” the jealous one pointed. “Some carpenters!”
“Wood butchers,” jeered Jimmy Stricker.
“And look at the punk stage.”
That made us hot. For we were proud of our work, as we had a right to be. And, with Peg in the lead, we took after the smart alecks and chased them away.
“We’ll fix your old show,” Bid yelled back.
“Try it,” dared Peg, “and see what happens to you.”
We went back to the show boat.
“Now that they know what we’re doing,” Peg said, wiping his sweaty face on his shirt sleeve, “they won’t rest easy until they’ve smashed up something. For you know Bid Stricker! And you heard what he said. If he gets half a chance he’ll put us out of business, just as sure as shootin’. We’ve got to be prepared, fellows.”
“I wouldn’t put it past him,” growled Scoop, “to bore a hole in the bottom of our boat and sink it. He’d think it was smart to do a stunt like that.”
“It’ll pay us,” waggled Peg, “to keep a close eye on our truck after this.”
“Aw!…” rebelled Red, scowling, when it was suggested that we guard the show boat day and night. “I don’t want to stay here all the time. I’ve got to eat.”
“We’ll work in pairs,” planned Peg, disregarding the smaller one’s objection. “Jerry and I will stand guard to-night and you two fellows can stand guard to-morrow night.”
Scoop laughed.
“What’s the matter, Red? You look sort of white under your freckles. Are you scared?”
“I have a hunch,” worried Red, looking ahead, “that I’m going to end up with a black eye or a punch in the jaw. For what chance has two fellows got against five?”
I had thought of that.
“Maybe we better stick together,” I suggested, getting Peg’s eyes.
But he wasn’t worried like me.
“Five o’clock,” he told us, looking at his watch.
“We’ll have to snap into it,” Scoop said, “if we expect to finish the ticket stand to-day.”
“You fellows can work on it,” Peg directed, “while Jerry and I go home for our bedding. For, if we’re going to stay here to-night, we’ve got to have something to sleep on. Come on, Jerry.”
Peg is big and strong and awfully gritty. He isn’t afraid of anybody or anything. I’m pretty gritty myself. I don’t run when a bigger fellow starts picking on me.
But, truthfully, I didn’t like this “two-against-five” business. It was risky. And I told Peg so on the way home.
He patted me on the back, grinning.
“Cheer up, Jerry. I’ve got a scheme.”