The Kevin review. [volume] (Kevin, Mont.) 1922-1929, 1924-07-03
How They
leased
Old Hooter
BY MORRIS

4 4 There is a Hewitt Memorial loun-
tain in our town park today, where
children press a button and drink the
gushing water. He endowed it by will.
But we boys knew him as Old Hooter.
How he came to be an object Of fear
and derision among US l can't remem-
Der. Perhaps because he was such a
very old man that it seemed to US he
had no right to go on existing. He
was white and bent and wrinkled, and
dressed in old-fashioned clothes, and
he carried a big cane, and he used
to walk and mutter to himself.
Old Hooter had been married once
long before, so tradition said. He
had a little money. He had apparent
ly no kith or kin. OF course he had
long since retired from work. He
looked after himself until he became
very infrm, when a neighbor used to
bring him his meals. And he lived in
a funny little old house at the end
of the street.
He had two pear trees and a plum
tree, and these were our special OBJ
iective when we were boys. The boy
who could boast that he had circum-
vented Old Hooter, and showed a hand
full of green pears or plums as his
trophy was a hero In the eyes of the
crowd.
How often | have seen Old Hooter
come flying out of his house IN a black
rage, waving his knobby cane, while
before him fled some small boy who
had stolen his fruit, or called "Old
Hooter p in at his window.
He never overlook and caught any
Of us except once, to my knowledge.
And, at a safe distance, the gang would
turn upon him.
Then the old mar would shake his
cane at us and humble and hobble
back to the little house. And as soon
as all was quiet two or three of us
would steal up to the window again.
"Hello, Old Hooteri"
A handful of pebbles on the glass,
and we would be flying for our lives.
He caught one of US boys only once,
to my remembrance. That boy was l.
| had stolen up to gather a handful of
plums, and all at once | saw a ter
rife form behind me, and a hand
grasped me by the collar.
l writhed and screamed: LET me
go, Old Hooteri !"
"What are you stealing my plums
for?'
"Lemme goi Please, / won't never
do it no more, Old Hoorer!"
He kept a grip on my collar and
marched me into the little house. ]
thought my last hour had come. |
thought | should never leave the house
alive. I was silent from very fear.
Up the stairs, to a large, low room
on the upper story. 1t was white
washed and the sun was streaming in
at the window. And it was filed with
children's toys.
: | looked about me in amazement.
On the floor was an immense circular
railroad track, with engines and car
riages and signal boxes. There were
soldiers, too, regiments of them, blue
and red and yellow, English and
American, and bonny Scotsmen with
kits. And there were toy guns, and
ammunition in the shape of dried peas
that must have been there for years
and wears, so shriveled they had be-
come.
And there were drums and trumpets,
and az concertina, and mechanical
things-and l looked at it all in aston
ishment.
Would you like to play with
these?' asked Old Hooter.
[ nodded assent.
"Whose do you think they are? I'll
tell you. They're Jimmy's. Once l
had a little boy like you. He died.
I haven't touched his toys since then.
He used to sit here for hours, play
ing with them"
Old Hooter seemed to have forgot
me-; l saw him %mumbling to him
self.
He was a good boy-like you, only
he didn't steal peoples plums. 1
thought maybe you'd like to play with
Jimmy"
This was too much for me. / made
a wild dash for the door and down the
dark stairs, expecting every instant to
see the dead Jimmy appear out of the
shadows. Somehow / reached the
street. l often wished afterward that
l had had the courage to stay. But
l never went near Old Hooters house
again.
He died the next year and left the
fountain, in memory of his son. / sup
pose the toys were taken by the furni-
ture people who bought the contents
of the house. The house itself was
pulled down. A factory stands there
now. There's nothing of Old Hooter
but the fountain; and none of those
who drink from 1t trouble to read the
inscription.
Creditors to the Rescue