Penrod Read online

  CHAPTER XXII THE IMITATOR

  At the dinner-table, that evening, Penrod Surprised his family byremarking, in a voice they had never heard him attempt--a law-givingvoice of intentional gruffness:

  "Any man that's makin' a hunderd dollars a month is makin' good money."

  "What?" asked Mr. Schofield, staring, for the previous conversation hadconcerned the illness of an infant relative in Council Bluffs.

  "Any man that's makin' a hunderd dollars a month is makin' good money."

  "What IS he talking about!" Margaret appealed to the invisible.

  "Well," said Penrod, frowning, "that's what foremen at the ladder worksget."

  "How in the world do you know?" asked his mother.

  "Well, I KNOW it! A hunderd dollars a month is good money, I tell you!"

  "Well, what of it?" said the father, impatiently.

  "Nothin'. I only said it was good money."

  Mr. Schofield shook his head, dismissing the subject; and here he madea mistake: he should have followed up his son's singular contributionto the conversation. That would have revealed the fact that there was acertain Rupe Collins whose father was a foreman at the ladder works. Allclues are important when a boy makes his first remark in a new key.

  "'Good money'?" repeated Margaret, curiously. "What is 'good' money?"

  Penrod turned upon her a stern glance. "Say, wouldn't you be just ashappy if you had SOME sense?"

  "Penrod!" shouted his father. But Penrod's mother gazed with dismay ather son: he had never before spoken like that to his sister.

  Mrs. Schofield might have been more dismayed than she was, if she hadrealized that it was the beginning of an epoch. After dinner, Penrod wasslightly scalded in the back as the result of telling Della, the cook,that there was a wart on the middle finger of her right hand. Della thusproving poor material for his new manner to work upon, he approachedDuke, in the backyard, and, bending double, seized the lowly animal bythe forepaws.

  "I let you know my name's Penrod Schofield," hissed the boy. Heprotruded his underlip ferociously, scowled, and thrust forward his headuntil his nose touched the dog's. "And you better look out when PenrodSchofield's around, or you'll get in big trouble! YOU UNDERSTAN' THAT,'BO?"

  The next day, and the next, the increasing change in Penrod puzzled anddistressed his family, who had no idea of its source.

  How might they guess that hero-worship takes such forms? They werevaguely conscious that a rather shabby boy, not of the neighbourhood,came to "play" with Penrod several times; but they failed to connectthis circumstance with the peculiar behaviour of the son of the house,whose ideals (his father remarked) seemed to have suddenly becomeidentical with those of Gyp the Blood.

  Meanwhile, for Penrod himself, "life had taken on new meaning, newrichness." He had become a fighting man--in conversation at least. "Doyou want to know how I do when they try to slip up on me from behind?"he asked Della. And he enacted for her unappreciative eye a scene offistic manoeuvres wherein he held an imaginary antagonist helpless in anet of stratagems.

  Frequently, when he was alone, he would outwit, and pummel this sameenemy, and, after a cunning feint, land a dolorous stroke full upon aface of air. "There! I guess you'll know better next time. That's theway we do up at the Third!"

  Sometimes, in solitary pantomime, he encountered more than one opponentat a time, for numbers were apt to come upon him treacherously,especially at a little after his rising hour, when he might be caught ata disadvantage--perhaps standing on one leg to encase the other in hisknickerbockers. Like lightning, he would hurl the trapping garment fromhim, and, ducking and pivoting, deal great sweeping blows among thecircle of sneaking devils. (That was how he broke the clock in hisbedroom.) And while these battles were occupying his attention, it wasa waste of voice to call him to breakfast, though if his mother, losingpatience, came to his room, she would find him seated on the bed pullingat a stocking. "Well, ain't I coming fast as I CAN?"

  At the table and about the house generally he was bumptious, loud withfatuous misinformation, and assumed a domineering tone, which neithersatire nor reproof seemed able to reduce: but it was among his ownintimates that his new superiority was most outrageous. He twisted thefingers and squeezed the necks of all the boys of the neighbourhood,meeting their indignation with a hoarse and rasping laugh he hadacquired after short practice in the stable, where he jeered and tauntedthe lawn-mower, the garden-scythe and the wheelbarrow quite out ofcountenance.

  Likewise he bragged to the other boys by the hour, Rupe Collins beingthe chief subject of encomium--next to Penrod himself. "That's theway we do up at the Third," became staple explanation of violence, forPenrod, like Tartarin, was plastic in the hands of his own imagination,and at times convinced himself that he really was one of those darkand murderous spirits exclusively of whom "the Third" wascomposed--according to Rupe Collins.

  Then, when Penrod had exhausted himself repeating to nausea accounts ofthe prowess of himself and his great friend, he would turn to two othersubjects for vainglory. These were his father and Duke.

  Mothers must accept the fact that between babyhood and manhood theirsons do not boast of them. The boy, with boys, is a Choctaw; and eitherthe influence or the protection of women is shameful. "Your mother won'tlet you," is an insult. But, "My father won't let me," is a dignifiedexplanation and cannot be hooted. A boy is ruined among his fellows ifhe talks much of his mother or sisters; and he must recognize it ashis duty to offer at least the appearance of persecution to all thingsranked as female, such as cats and every species of fowl. But he mustchampion his father and his dog, and, ever, ready to pit either againstany challenger, must picture both as ravening for battle and absolutelyunconquerable.

  Penrod, of course, had always talked by the code, but, under the newstimulus, Duke was represented virtually as a cross between Bob, Son ofBattle, and a South American vampire; and this in spite of the fact thatDuke himself often sat close by, a living lie, with the hope of peacein his heart. As for Penrod's father, that gladiator was painted as ofsentiments and dimensions suitable to a super-demon composed of equalparts of Goliath, Jack Johnson and the Emperor Nero.

  Even Penrod's walk was affected; he adopted a gait which was a kind oftaunting swagger; and, when he passed other children on the street, hepractised the habit of feinting a blow; then, as the victim dodged,he rasped the triumphant horse laugh which he gradually mastered tohorrible perfection. He did this to Marjorie Jones--ay! this wastheir next meeting, and such is Eros, young! What was even worse, inMarjorie's opinion, he went on his way without explanation, and lefther standing on the corner talking about it, long after he was out ofhearing.

  Within five days from his first encounter with Rupe Collins, Penrod hadbecome unbearable. He even almost alienated Sam Williams, who for a timesubmitted to finger twisting and neck squeezing and the new style ofconversation, but finally declared that Penrod made him "sick." He madethe statement with fervour, one sultry afternoon, in Mr. Schofield'sstable, in the presence of Herman and Verman.

  "You better look out, 'bo," said Penrod, threateningly. "I'll show you alittle how we do up at the Third."

  "Up at the Third!" Sam repeated with scorn. "You haven't ever been upthere."

  "I haven't?" cried Penrod. "I HAVEN'T?"

  "No, you haven't!"

  "Looky here!" Penrod, darkly argumentative, prepared to perform theeye-to-eye business. "When haven't I been up there?"

  "You haven't NEVER been up there!" In spite of Penrod's closelyapproaching nose Sam maintained his ground, and appealed forconfirmation. "Has he, Herman?"

  "I don' reckon so," said Herman, laughing.

  "WHAT!" Penrod transferred his nose to the immediate vicinity ofHerman's nose. "You don't reckon so, 'bo, don't you? You better look outhow you reckon around here! YOU UNDERSTAN' THAT, 'BO?"

  Herman bore the eye-to-eye very well; indeed, it seemed to pleasehim, for he continued to laugh while Verman chuckled delightedly. Thebrothers had been in the count
ry picking berries for a week, and ithappened that this was their first experience of the new manifestationof Penrod.

  "HAVEN'T I been up at the Third?" the sinister Penrod demanded.

  "I don' reckon so. How come you ast ME?"

  "Didn't you just hear me SAY I been up there?"

  "Well," said Herman mischievously, "hearin' ain't believin'!"

  Penrod clutched him by the back of the neck, but Herman, laughingloudly, ducked and released himself at once, retreating to the wall.

  "You take that back!" Penrod shouted, striking out wildly.

  "Don' git mad," begged the small darky, while a number of blows fallingupon his warding arms failed to abate his amusement, and a sound oneupon the cheek only made him laugh the more unrestrainedly. He behavedexactly as if Penrod were tickling him, and his brother, Verman, rolledwith joy in a wheelbarrow. Penrod pummelled till he was tired, andproduced no greater effect.

  "There!" he panted, desisting finally. "NOW I reckon you know whether Ibeen up there or not!"

  Herman rubbed his smitten cheek. "Pow!" he exclaimed. "Pow-ee! Youcert'ny did lan' me good one NAT time! Oo-ee! she HURT!"

  "You'll get hurt worse'n that," Penrod assured him, "if you stay aroundhere much. Rupe Collins is comin' this afternoon, he said. We're goin'to make some policemen's billies out of the rake handle."

  "You go' spoil new rake you' pa bought?"

  "What do WE care? I and Rupe got to have billies, haven't we?"

  "How you make 'em?"

  "Melt lead and pour in a hole we're goin' to make in the end of 'em.Then we're goin' to carry 'em in our pockets, and if anybody saysanything to us--OH, oh! look out! They won't get a crack on thehead--OH, no!"

  "When's Rupe Collins coming?" Sam Williams inquired rather uneasily.He had heard a great deal too much of this personage, but as yet thepleasure of actual acquaintance had been denied him.

  "He's liable to be here any time," answered Penrod. "You better lookout. You'll be lucky if you get home alive, if you stay till HE comes."

  "I ain't afraid of him," Sam returned, conventionally.

  "You are, too!" (There was some truth in the retort.) "There ain't anyboy in this part of town but me that wouldn't be afraid of him. You'd beafraid to talk to him. You wouldn't get a word out of your mouth beforeold Rupie'd have you where you'd wished you never come around HIM,lettin' on like you was so much! YOU wouldn't run home yellin' 'Mom-muh'or nothin'! OH, no!"

  "Who Rupe Collins?" asked Herman.

  "'Who Rupe Collins?'" Penrod mocked, and used his rasping laugh, but,instead of showing fright, Herman appeared to think he was meant tolaugh, too; and so he did, echoed by Verman. "You just hang around herea little while longer," Penrod added, grimly, "and you'll find out whoRupe Collins is, and I pity YOU when you do!"

  "What he go' do?"

  "You'll see; that's all! You just wait and----"

  At this moment a brown hound ran into the stable through the alley door,wagged a greeting to Penrod, and fraternized with Duke. The fat-facedboy appeared upon the threshold and gazed coldly about the littlecompany in the carriage-house, whereupon the coloured brethren, ceasingfrom merriment, were instantly impassive, and Sam Williams moved alittle nearer the door leading into the yard.

  Obviously, Sam regarded the newcomer as a redoubtable if not ominousfigure. He was a head taller than either Sam or Penrod; head andshoulders taller than Herman, who was short for his age; and Vermancould hardly be used for purposes of comparison at all, being a meresquat brown spot, not yet quite nine years on this planet. And toSam's mind, the aspect of Mr. Collins realized Penrod's portentousforeshadowings. Upon the fat face there was an expression of truculentintolerance which had been cultivated by careful habit to suchperfection that Sam's heart sank at sight of it. A somewhat enfeebledtwin to this expression had of late often decorated the visage ofPenrod, and appeared upon that ingenuous surface now, as he advanced towelcome the eminent visitor.

  The host swaggered toward the door with a great deal of shouldermovement, carelessly feinting a slap at Verman in passing, and creatingby various means the atmosphere of a man who has contemptuously amusedhimself with underlings while awaiting an equal.

  "Hello, 'bo!" Penrod said in the deepest voice possible to him.

  "Who you callin' 'bo?" was the ungracious response, accompanied byimmediate action of a similar nature. Rupe held Penrod's head in thecrook of an elbow and massaged his temples with a hard-pressing knuckle.

  "I was only in fun, Rupie," pleaded the sufferer, and then, being setfree, "Come here, Sam," he said.

  "What for?"

  Penrod laughed pityingly. "Pshaw, I ain't goin' to hurt you. Come on."Sam, maintaining his position near the other door, Penrod went to himand caught him round the neck.

  "Watch me, Rupie!" Penrod called, and performed upon Sam the knuckleoperation which he had himself just undergone, Sam submittingmechanically, his eyes fixed with increasing uneasiness upon RupeCollins. Sam had a premonition that something even more painful thanPenrod's knuckle was going to be inflicted upon him.

  "THAT don' hurt," said Penrod, pushing him away.

  "Yes, it does, too!" Sam rubbed his temple.

  "Puh! It didn't hurt me, did it, Rupie? Come on in, Rupe: show this babywhere he's got a wart on his finger."

  "You showed me that trick," Sam objected. "You already did that tome. You tried it twice this afternoon and I don't know how many timesbefore, only you weren't strong enough after the first time. Anyway, Iknow what it is, and I don't----"

  "Come on, Rupe," said Penrod. "Make the baby lick dirt."

  At this bidding, Rupe approached, while Sam, still protesting, moved tothe threshold of the outer door; but Penrod seized him by the shouldersand swung him indoors with a shout.

  "Little baby wants to run home to its Mom-muh! Here he is, Rupie."

  Thereupon was Penrod's treachery to an old comrade properly rewarded,for as the two struggled, Rupe caught each by the back of the neck,simultaneously, and, with creditable impartiality, forced both boys totheir knees.

  "Lick dirt!" he commanded, forcing them still forward, until their faceswere close to the stable floor.

  At this moment he received a real surprise. With a loud whack somethingstruck the back of his head, and, turning, he beheld Verman in the actof lifting a piece of lath to strike again.

  "Em moys ome!" said Verman, the Giant Killer.

  "He tongue-tie'," Herman explained. "He say, let 'em boys alone."

  Rupe addressed his host briefly:

  "Chase them nigs out o' here!"

  "Don' call me nig," said Herman. "I mine my own biznuss. You let 'emboys alone."

  Rupe strode across the still prostrate Sam, stepped upon Penrod, and,equipping his countenance with the terrifying scowl and protruded jaw,lowered his head to the level of Herman's.

  "Nig, you'll be lucky if you leave here alive!" And he leaned forwardtill his nose was within less than an inch of Herman's nose.

  It could be felt that something awful was about to happen, and Penrod,as he rose from the floor, suffered an unexpected twinge of apprehensionand remorse: he hoped that Rupe wouldn't REALLY hurt Herman. A suddendislike of Rupe and Rupe's ways rose within him, as he looked at the bigboy overwhelming the little darky with that ferocious scowl. Penrod,all at once, felt sorry about something indefinable; and, with equalvagueness, he felt foolish. "Come on, Rupe," he suggested, feebly, "letHerman go, and let's us make our billies out of the rake handle."

  The rake handle, however, was not available, if Rupe had inclined tofavour the suggestion. Verman had discarded his lath for the rake, whichhe was at this moment lifting in the air.

  "You ole black nigger," the fat-faced boy said venomously to Herman,"I'm agoin' to----"

  But he had allowed his nose to remain too long near Herman's.

  Penrod's familiar nose had been as close with only a ticklish spinaleffect upon the not very remote descendant of Congo man-eaters. Theresult produced by the glare of Rupe's unfa
miliar eyes, and bythe dreadfully suggestive proximity of Rupe's unfamiliar nose, wasaltogether different. Herman's and Verman's Bangala great-grandfathersnever considered people of their own jungle neighbourhood propermaterial for a meal, but they looked upon strangers especially truculentstrangers--as distinctly edible.

  Penrod and Sam heard Rupe suddenly squawk and bellow; saw him writhe andtwist and fling out his arms like flails, though without removing hisface from its juxtaposition; indeed, for a moment, the two heads seemedeven closer.

  Then they separated--and battle was on!