Jim was always talking about their plan of running off together, now; and he said they must fix everything so that it would not fail this time. If they could only get to the city once, they could go for cabin-boys on a steamboat that was bound for New Orleans; and down the Mississippi they could easily hide on some ship that was starting for the Spanish Main, and then they would be all right. Jim knew about the Spanish Main from a book of pirate stories that he had. He had a great many books and he was always reading them. One was about Indians, and one was about pirates, and one was about dreams and signs, and one was full of curious stories, and one told about magic and how to do jugglers’ tricks; the other was a fortune-telling book. Jim Leonard had a paper from the city, with long stories in, and he had read a novel once; he could not tell the boys exactly what a novel was, but that was what it said on the back.
After Pony and he became such friends he told him everything that was in his books, and once, when Pony went to his house, he showed him the books. Pony was a little afraid of Jim Leonard’s mother; she was a widow woman, and took in washing; she lived in a little wood-colored house down by the river-bank, and she smoked a pipe. She was a very good mother to Jim, and let him do whatever he pleased—go in swimming as much as he wanted to, stay out of school, or anything. He had to catch drift-wood for her to burn when the river was high; once she came down to the river herself and caught drift-wood with a long pole that had a nail in the end of it to catch on with.
By the time school took up Pony and Jim Leonard were such great friends that they asked the teacher if they might sit together, and they both had the same desk. When Pony’s mother heard that, it seemed as if she were going to do something about it. She said to his father:
“I don’t like Pony’s going with Jim Leonard so much. He’s had nobody else with him for two weeks, and now he’s sitting with him in school.”
Pony’s father said, “I don’t believe Jim Leonard will hurt Pony. What makes you like him, Pony?”
Pony said, “Oh, nothing,” and his father laughed.
“It seems to be a case of pure affection. What do you talk about together?”
“Oh, dreams, and magic, and pirates,” said Pony.
His father laughed, but his mother said, “I know hell put mischief in the child’s head,” and then Pony thought how Jim Leonard always wanted him to run off, and he felt ashamed; but he did not think that running off was mischief, or else all the boys would not be wanting to do it, and so he did not say anything.
His father said, “I don’t believe there’s any harm in the fellow. He’s a queer chap.”
“He’s so low down,” said Pony’s mother.
“Well, he has a chance to rise, then,” said Pony’s father. “We may all be hurrahing for him for President some day.” Pony could not always tell when his father was joking, but it seemed to him he must be joking now. “I don’t believe Pony will get any harm from sitting with him in school, at any rate.”
After that Pony’s mother did not say anything, but he knew that she had taken a spite to Jim Leonard, and when he brought him home with him after school he did not bring him into the woodshed as he did with the other boys, but took him out to the barn. That got them to playing in the barn most of the time, and they used to stay in the hay-loft, where Jim Leonard told Pony the stories out of his books. It was good and warm there, and now the days were getting chilly towards evenings.
Once, when they were lying in the hay together, Jim Leonard said, all of a sudden, “I’ve thought of the very thing, Pony Baker.”
Pony asked, “What thing?”
“How to get ready for running off,” said Jim Leonard, and at that Pony’s heart went down, but he did not like to show it, and Jim Leonard went on: “We’ve got to provision the raft, you know, for maybe we’ll catch on an island and be a week getting to the city. We’ve got to float with the current, anyway. Well, now, we can make a hole in the hay here and hide the provisions till we’re ready to go. I say we’d better begin hiding them right away. Let’s see if we can make a place. Get away, Trip.”
He was speaking to Pony’s dog, that always came out into the barn with him and stayed below in the carriage-room, whining and yelping till they helped him up the ladder into the loft. Then he always lay in one corner, with his tongue out, and looking at them as if he knew what they were saying. He got up when Jim Leonard bade him, and Jim pulled away the hay until he got down to the loft floor.
“Yes, it’s the very place. It’s all solid, and we can put the things down here and cover them up with hay and nobody will notice. Now, to-morrow you bring out a piece of bread-and-butter with meat between, and I will, too, and then we will see how it will do.”
Pony brought his bread-and-butter the next day. Jim said he intended to bring some hard-boiled eggs, but his mother kept looking, and he had no chance.
“Let’s see whether the butter’s sweet, because if it ain’t the provisions will spoil before we can get off.”
He took a bite, and he said, “My, that’s nice!” and the first thing he knew he ate the whole piece up. “Well, never mind,” he said, “we can begin to-morrow just as well.”
The next day Jim Leonard brought a ham-bone, to cook greens with on the raft. He said it would be first-rate; and Pony brought bread-and-butter, with meat between. Then they hid them in the hay, and drove Trip away from the place. The day after that, when they were busy talking, Trip dug the provisions up, and, before they noticed, he ate up Pony’s bread-and-butter and was gnawing Jim Leonard’s ham-bone. They cuffed his ears, but they could not make him give it up, and Jim Leonard said:
“Well, let him have it. It’s all spoilt now, anyway. But I’ll tell you what, Pony—we’ve got to do something with that dog. He’s found out where we keep our provisions, and now he’ll always eat them. I don’t know but what we’ll have to kill him.”
“Oh no!” said Pony. “I couldn’t kill Trip!”
“Well, I didn’t mean kill him, exactly; but do something. I’ll tell you what—train him not to follow you to the barn when he sees you going.”
Pony thought that would be a good plan, and he began the next day at noon. Trip tried to follow him to the barn, and Pony kicked at him, and motioned to stone him, and said: “Go home, sir! Home with you! Home, I say!” till his mother came to the back door.
“Why, what in the world makes you so cross with poor Trip, Pony?” she asked.
“I’ll teach him not to tag me round everywhere,” said Pony.
His mother said: “Why, I thought you liked to have him with you?”
“I’m tired of it,” said Pony; but when he put his mother off that way he felt badly, as if he had told her a lie, and he let Trip come with him and began to train him again the next day.
It was pretty hard work, and Trip looked at him so mournfully when he drove him back that he could hardly bear to do it; but Jim Leonard said it was the only way, and he must keep it up. At last Trip got so that he would not follow Pony to the barn. He would look at him when Pony started and wag his tail wistfully, and half jump a little, and then when he saw Pony frown he would let his tail drop and stay still, or walk off to the woodshed and keep looking around at Pony to see if he were in earnest. It made Pony’s heart ache, for he was truly fond of Trip; but Jim Leonard said it was the only way, and so Pony had to do it.
They provisioned themselves a good many times, but after they talked a while they always got hungry, or Jim