Thomas County cat. [volume] (Colby, Kan.) 1885-1891, 1886-10-21

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Bric-a-brac hunting was an unknown
mania, and clock that would not tell
the time of day, no matter how ancient
and honorable its history. was well out
of the way in boys workshop.
This old clock Fred and had taken
10 pieces and put together again times
without number, in the hope of max
ing it keep time so that we could put
it in our room. Sometimes it would
90 nicely for several hours, and then
some unlucky pinion would slip its
plsce, the pendulum would slowly
come to standstill and the piteOus,
patient-looking old face would stare
at us as if in blank disappointment at
being left behind in the march of time.
But, worn out and useless as it was as
a time-keeper, it could strike as loudly
and boldly as in its younger days, and
we had no small amount of fun in
turning the wheels so as to hear its
silvery ring and asthmatic wheeze-
After school we discussed Fred's plan
thoroughly and enthusiastically. 1t is
doubtful if we enjoyed its fruition
more than we did talking it over, and
eagerly adding suggestion after sug-
gestion until it was, in our estimation,
perfect
1.-The plan is just this, Jamie" said
Fred. Take the works out of the
case, fasten them in the fireplace, put
long, stout string on in place of the
striking weight cord, wind the reel on
the striking side as full as we can, then
pass the line up over pully atthe top of
the chimney, and put on the weight.
The old thing will strike as long as it
takes the weight to run down.
1t took some time to get every thing
ready. No spy was ever more secret
or cautious in his movements than we.
We never talked of our plans where
any one could hear. In the workshop,
with doors shut and locked, or at sun
down, driving home the cows from the
pasture lot, or at night, buried in the
bed-clothes, we discussed it. The prep
arations, too, had to be made in the
night We nearly broke our necks
climbing out on the roof night after
night to arrange our ''crack O doom"
as Fred called it. Mailing the works
of the clock in the parlor Fireplace re-
quired all our skill in amateur burg
larry. But we managed to accomplish
the task, although l was shut up be-
mind the fireboard half the night, and
Fred sprained his ankle jumping out of
the window when mother came INTO the
room after book.
At last all was ready. By means of
string which one of us could pull
from the kitchen (where ladder was
to furnish a safe retreat to terra tirma),
a single, holding the weight at the top
of the chimney, would be jerkcd out;
and as the weight began to fall the
clock would begin to strike.
The next thing was to get the oppor-
tunity to put our scheme in operation.
Strangely, Mr.. Pettijohn's skillful feat
of pulling our door-bell just so rs to
cause the bell to ring out three distinct
taps and no more, was not performed
for full week. Fred and l were in
mortal dread every day that our prep
arations would be discovered. Any
day father might take a notion to clean
out the parlor fireplace and the Chin
ney. Fortunately he did not. and Mr.:
Rogers peculiar ring at the door bell
at last pcaled on ears that were most
intently listening for that welcome
sound.
We boys slipped out of the kitchen.
where we had been engaged in fierce
debate with Aunt Elizabeth on a prop
Osition to keep our pet chickens in the
cellar next winter instead of IN the
barn. Our first impulse was to plant
ourselves in position on the roof of the
kitchen ready to pull the string. On
second thought we reflected that our
intended victim would probably spend
the evening, and We concluded to
make the best of our situation by wait.
ing until we thought he ought to be get.
ting ready to depart. The better to
ward off suspicion we spent the evening
several blocks away, with some of our
boy friends.
AS we approached the house, a little
before ten o'clock, we saw the light
streaming from the parlor window,
and knew our prey was still there.
took my place at the string, trem-
bling with expectation of the critical
moment when Fred, who had stationed
himself in the lilac bushes under the
south window of the parlor, should
give me the signal by throwing peb-
BILE on the kitchen roof.
Time, always slow when waited, was
never so slow, it seemed, as during the
full hour / waited for the thud of that
pebble on rhe roof. The night train
came laundering up the valley while /
sat there, and l counted echo after
echo of the shrill whistle of its loco
motive, and traced its snake-like line
| of light until it wound around dis
tant hill and was out of sight. How
the dogs barked that night! l busted
myself in Distinguishing the score or
more of canine voices whose nightly
bayings were familiar in our neighHor-
| hood. Now and then old Boze. our
family horse, would shake himself in
his stall and MUNICH his provender for
moment or two. and then cease to
| make living sound. A long story
could be told of the pictures that were
called before my mind bv the noises l
heard in that single hour.
Suddenly in the midst of one of these
mental pictures. Fred's pebble fell.
striking me so that pulled the string
without fbnrrht 80 I