Queer Stories for Boys and Girls | Page 7

here, ke-whack!"
Poor Bobby sat down by the fire, not knowing what to do. "I don't want
to stay here, Ke-whack!" he whimpered.
"Tell him about the Sleepy-headed People," said the owl to Bobby,
solemnly.
"Shut up, old man, or I'll bite your head off!" said the Fly-up-the creek
to the owl.
"Do as I say," said the owl. "If you stay here, you'll turn to an owl or a
bat. Be quick. The Sleepy-heads are his cousins--he doesn't like to hear
about them."
"Don't mind a word the old man says, ke-whack!"
"Give me the key, then," said Bobby.

"Do as I say," said the owl.
The Fly-up-the-creek uttered an angry "ke-whack" and tried to bite off
the owl's head, but the "old man" hopped out of his way. Bobby began
to tell the story of his adventures among the Sleepy-heads, and the
stake-driver kept crying, "Ke-whack! ke-whack!" to drown his words;
but as Bobby's shrill voice rose higher the stake-driver's voice became
weaker and weaker. Bobby was so amazed that he stopped.
"Go on!" groaned the owl, "or you'll never get out, or I either."
So Bobby kept up his talk until the stake-driver was lying senseless on
the floor.
"Put the key in the lock, quick," cried the owl.
"Where is the key?"
"His fine clothes. Take them off, quick! Cap first!"
Bobby began with the cap, then stripped off the coat and vest and
boots.
"Put them in the keyhole, quick!" said the owl, for the stake-driver was
reviving.
"Where is the key-hole?"
"There! there!" cried the owl, pointing to the fire. By this time the
Fly-up-the-creek had already begun to reach out for his clothes, which
Bobby hastily threw into the fire. The fire went out, the great door near
by swung open, and the big-eyed owl, followed by Bobby, walked out,
saying, "I'm free at last."
Somehow, in the daylight, he was not any longer an owl, but an old
man in gray clothes, who hobbled off down the road.
And Bobby looked after him until he saw the stake-driver, shorn of his
fine clothes, sweep over his head and go flying up the creek again.

Then he turned toward his father's cabin, saying:
"Well, I never! Ef that haint the beatinest thing I ever did see in all my
born'd days."
And I think it was.

MR. BLAKE'S WALKING-STICK.
I.
THE WALKING-STICK WALKS.
Some men carry canes. Some men make the canes carry them. I never
could tell just what Mr. Blake carried his cane for. I am sure it did not
often feel his weight. For he was neither old, nor rich, nor lazy.
He was a tall, straight man, who walked as if he loved to walk, with a
cheerful tread that was good to see. I am sure he didn't carry the cane
for show. It was not one of those little sickly yellow things, that some
men nurse as tenderly as they might a lapdog. It was a great black stick
of solid ebony, with a box-wood head, and I think Mr. Blake carried it
for company. And it had a face, like that of an old man, carved on one
side of the box-wood head. Mr. Blake kept it ringing in a hearty way
upon the pavement as he walked, and the boys would look up from
their marbles when they heard it, and say: "There comes Mr. Blake, the
minister!" And I think that nearly every invalid and poor person in
Thornton knew the cheerful voice of the minister's stout ebony stick.
It was a clear, crisp, sunshiny morning in December. The leaves were
all gone, and the long lines of white frame houses that were hid away in
the thick trees during the summer, showed themselves standing in
straight rows now that the trees were bare. And Purser, Pond & Co.'s
great factory on the brook in the valley below was plainly to be seen,
with its long rows of windows shining and shimmering in the brilliant
sun, and its brick chimney reached up like the Tower of Babel, and
poured out a steady stream of dense, black smoke.

It was just such a shining winter morning. Mr. Blake and his
walking-stick were just starting out for a walk together. "It's a fine
morning," thought the minister, as he shut the parsonage gate. And
when he struck the cane sharply on the stones it answered him cheerily:
"It's a fine morning!" The cane always agreed with Mr. Blake. So they
were able to walk together, according to Scripture, because they were
agreed.
Just as he came round the corner the minister found a party of boys
waiting for him. They had already heard the cane remarking that it was
a fine morning before Mr. Blake came in sight.