Watch Yourself Go By | Page 7

no road "straight ahead," but the river was there. The sound
of boys' voices shouting in high glee came floating up from the old
swimming place. School had let out and every boy in town was in
swimming. "Al-f-u-r-d" blazed a new trail to the river. Climbing over
the paling fence surrounding the burying ground, through back yards,
descending the steep hill, he found himself standing on the bank of the
river gazing at a spectacle that stirred his young blood--half a hundred
nude boys diving, splashing, swimming and shouting were in the river
below.
[Illustration: The New Boy in Town]
His appearance was greeted with yells and laughter. He was a "new
boy" in town. "Al-f-u-r-d" was abashed by the reception accorded him.
Of all the howling horde in the water below there was but one familiar
face, that of Cousin Charley.
"Take off your curls and come on in, Sissy," shouted one of the
swimmers. A dozen of them assured "Al-f-u-r-d" the water was "jest
bully." Entreaties of "Come on in," came from dozens of boys. Advice
of all kinds came from others.
The reference to the curls made "Al-f-u-r-d" wince. He had long felt
that those curls were the one great impediment in his life--the one
something that made him the butt of the jokes and gibes of other boys.
He hated those curls. His first swimming experience doubly intensified
his hatred for curls.
Evening was drawing near. The big yellow sun had dropped behind
Krepp's Knob, the shadows of the hills almost reached across the
ruffled surface of the river. The river bottoms at the base of the hills,

with their waving grasses and tassled corn, extending beyond the bend
in the river opposite Albany, the old wooden bridge farther up the river,
the high hills behind him, presented a scene of beauty all of which was
lost upon "Al-f-u-r-d." The boys in the river held him entranced. He
was absorbed in the scene, and, for the moment, he even forgot his
curls.
Writers frequently refer to the Monongahela River as "murky"--but
where's the boy who ever basked in its cooling waves who will not
qualify the statement that its waters are the clearest, its depths the most
delightful, its ripples the softest and its shores the smoothest?
Jimmy Edmiston intimated to the writer that the Monongahela was only
clear during a "Cheat River Rise." (Cheat is the name of a small stream
of Virginia emptying into the Monongahela above Brownsville. Its
waters are never muddy, no matter how heavy or protracted the rains
along its course. When the Cheat River pours its transparent flood into
the Monongahela the latter rises without riling. Hence the expression:
"Cheat River rise.")
Jimmy has so long lived away from Brownsville that his memory is
defective. Associated with the muddy Missouri he labors under the
delusion that all rivers are muddy--even the Monongahela.
[Illustration: The Old Swimming Hole]
"Al-f-u-r-d" was rudely caught from behind by several boys, undressed
in less time than it took Lin to hang the hat on his curls. Nor had he
barely been reduced to a state of nudity when some unregenerate in the
river below let fly a lump of soft, mushy mud, large as a gourd. The
mud landed squarely on the broader part of his slight anatomy. With a
yelp he wiggled loose from his captors and bounded up the hill. His
slender legs and body, topped with the large crop of atmospherically
agitated curls, made him a figure so ludicrous that the boys yelled in
ecstacy at the sight.
"Al-f-u-r-d" was recaptured by two stout-armed boys, one on either
side. They carried him to the top of the "mudslide." "Slick 'er up," came

the cry from all sides. This had reference to the slide upon which fell a
veritable cloudburst of water splashed up from the river by the hands of
a dozen devilish youngsters.
"Al-f-u-r-d" was elevated to the height of the heads of his tormentors.
In chorus from the mob at the words, "One, two, three," he was
dropped to the slide, striking its soft, slick surface in an angular attitude,
with feet and legs waving a strenuous protest above his head. The fall
gave him a momentum that sent him over the slippery surface at a
speed that rushed him into the river with eyes and mouth wide open.
With a splash, under he went, forcing great gulps of water down his
throat. Strangling and choking, he came to the surface, spouting like a
whale calf.
[Illustration: The Slippery Slide]
What a shout of merriment went up from his tormentors. Barely had he
taken in a full breath than a bad boy--they were all bad, at least
"Al-f-u-r-d" so informed Lin afterwards--again forced his head under
water.
"Duck 'im agin!" someone