Three Young Knights | Page 2

overhead and roundabout. Then Jot broke out--a
minute was Jot's utmost limit of silence.
"We could go up through the Notch and back, you know," he reflected.
"That's no end of fun. Wouldn't cost us all more'n a fiver for the round
trip, and we'd have the other ten to--to--"
"Buy popcorn and 'Twin Mountain Views' with!" finished Kent in
scorn. "Well, if you want to dress up in your best fixin's and stew all
day in a railroad train--"
"I don't!" rejoined Jot, hastily. "I was thinking of Old Till!"
Tilly's other name was Nathan, but it had grown musty with disuse. He
was the oldest of the Eddy trio, and "ballasted" the other two, Father
Eddy said. Old Tilly was fourteen and the Eddy twins--Jotham and
Kennet--were twelve. All three were well-grown, lusty fellows who
could work or celebrate their liberty, as the case might be, with a good
will. Just now it was the latter they wanted to do, in some untried way.

It was a beautiful thinking-place, up in the consultery. The birds in the
meshes of leaves that roofed it over twittered in whispers, as if they
realized that a momentous question was under consultation down
below and bird-courtesy demanded quiet.
Jot fretted impatiently under his breath,
"Shouldn't think it need to take all day!" he muttered. "You're as slow
as--as--"
"Old Tilly!" laughed Kent. The spell of silence was broken, and the
birds overhead broke into jubilant trills, as if they were laughing, too.
"I guess the name fits all right this time," Old Tilly said ruefully. "I
can't seem to think of anything at all! My head clicks--the mowing
machine wheels have got into it, I guess!"
"Wheels in mine, too!" Kent drawled lazily.
"Wheels!"
Jot sprang to his feet in excitement. In his haste he miscalculated the
dimensions of the consultery. There was a wild flutter of brown hands
and feet, and then the chestnut leaves closed calmly over the opening,
and there were but two boys in the consultery. One of those parted the
leaves again and peered down.
"Hello, Jot!"
No answer. Old Tilly's laugh froze on his face.
"Jot! Hello!" he cried, preparing to swing himself down.
"Hello yourself!" came up calmly.
"Oh! Are you killed?"
"'Course! But, I say, you needn't either o' you sit up there any longer
gloomin'. I've thought of the way we'll celebrate. It's great!"

The crisp branches creaked as the others swung down to the ground in
haste.
"You haven't!" cried Kent.
"What is it, quick!" Old Tilly said. Old Tilly in a hurry!
"Wheels!" announced Jot, deliberately. "You chaps had 'em in your
head, and that put 'em into mine. Yes, sir, we'll celebrate on wheels!"
"Why, of course! Good for you!" shouted Kent. But Old Tilly weighed
things first in his mind.
"That would be a go if we had enough to 'go' round. But you twinnies
wouid have to ride double, or spell each other, or something."
"Spell nobody!" scornfully cried Jot.
"N-o, no, b-o-d--"
"Shut up, Kent! That's all right, Old Till. Benny Tweed'll lend me his
bike just like a book--I know Ben! Besides, he owes me a dollar and I'll
call it square. There!"
Old Tilly nodded approvingly. "Good!" he said. "Then we'll take a trip
off somewhere. That what you meant?"
"Sure! We'll go Columbus-ing--discovering things, you know."
"Like those fellows--what's their names?--who did errands for people,
and had wonderful things happen to them while doing them!" put in
Kent, enthusiastically.
"Errands? What in the world--knights? He means knight-errants!"
exclaimed Old Till, laughing.
"That's a good one--'Did errands for folks!'" Jot mocked.
"Well, what did they do then, Jotham Eddy?"

"Why, they--er--they--they rode round on splendid horses, all armed--
er--aaple-pie--and--"
"Apple-pie--armed with apple-pie!"
Old Tilly came briskly to the rescue.
"Never mind the errands or the pie!" laughed he. "We'll be reg'lar
knights and hunt up distressed folks to relieve, and have reg'lar
adventures. It will be great--good for Jot! We won't decide where we're
going or anything--just keep a-going. We'll start to-morrow morning at
sunrise."
"Hoo-ray for to-morrow morning!"
"Hoo-ray for sunrise!"
"Hoo-ray for Jot!" finished Kent, generously forgetting mockeries.
The plan promised gloriously. When father and mother came home
from the mill they fell in with it heartily, and mother rolled up her
sleeves at once to make cakes to fill the boys' bundle racks. They would
buy other things as they went along--that would be part of the fun.
In the middle of the night Jot got out of bed softly and padded his way
across to the bureau, to feel of the three five-dollar bills they had left
together under the pincushion for a paper weight. He slid his fingers
under carefully. What! He lifted the cushion. Then he struck a
match--two matches--three, in agitated