Read Ebook: Mark Tidd in the Backwoods by Kelland Clarence Budington Clarke William Wallace Illustrator

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Ebook has 1633 lines and 56417 words, and 33 pages

"Mister," says he, "this is the f-f-f-first wreck I was ever in, and I want to en-enjoy it. So I'd rather b-be pulled out by a f-f-feller that's more polite."

The man laughed. "Didn't mean to offend you," he said. "Beg your pardon. Naturally I'm one of the politest men in Michigan, but, you see, I was shaken up considerable by the wreck."

Mark grinned. "All right," says he. "Go ahead. I've got about all the f-fun there is out of bein' tangled up here."

The four of us hoisted him up and set him on his feet. He shook himself like you've seen a dog do when it comes out of the water, blinked around him to see what there was to see--and then took another banana out of his pocket and began to skin it absent-mindedly.

"Don't do any good to g-g-get excited," says Mark. "There's always enough o-other folks to do that. Anybody hurt?"

"Haven't found anybody yet. It's a regular miracle."

Mark looked at Tallow and Plunk and me and shook his head. "You're the fellers that d-d-don't b'lieve in luck," says he. "Now I g-g-guess you won't make fun of my carryin' a horseshoe." And he pulled one out of his pocket. "Found this jest as we was gittin' on the train," he says to the man, "and l-look what it's done!"

"I'll never travel again without a horseshoe," he says. "Let's get out of here--we're the last ones."

"Got to git my hat," says Mark.

That was just like him. When he did a thing he did it thorough. If there'd been any danger and he ought to have got out he would have gone. He never took chances he didn't have to; but there wasn't any danger, so he wouldn't go until he took along everything that belonged to him. It took us twenty minutes to locate our stuff. The man helped us, laughing all the time. He seemed to think he was having a lot of fun. I sort of liked him, too. He was jolly and good-natured and pretty good-looking.

When we got outside I said to Mark, so the man couldn't hear, "Nice feller, ain't he?"

"Too g-good-natured," says he.

"You're mad 'cause he made fun of you."

"'Tain't that. He's one of these f-f-fellers that make a business of bein' p-pleasant. Maybe he's all right, b-but if I was goin' to have much to do with him I'd k-keep my eye on him."

"Huh!" says I; but after a while you'll see Mark wasn't so far wrong, after all. I never saw such a boy for seeing into folks. He could almost always guess what kind of a person anybody was.

We stood around a minute, getting our breath and sort of calming down. Then we watched the trainmen digging baggage and valuables out of the car and finding owners to fit them. That wasn't very interesting, so we went and sat down on the bank beside the track and commenced to wonder how long we would have to stay there.

"Probably have to wait for a train from Grand Rapids," Tallow said.

Mark got up and looked down the track. "G-g-guess they can crowd us in th-them."

Just then the good-natured man who helped us out of the wreck came along, grinning like he'd found a quarter on the sidewalk.

"Hello!" says he. "Any the worse for wear?"

"No," says Plunk.

"Camping?" says he.

"Whereabouts?" he asked.

"We git off at Baldwin," I told him.

"Good fishing?" he wanted to know.

"My uncle says it's bully."

He sat down alongside of us. "My name's Collins," says he--"John Collins."

He sort of waited, and then I introduced everybody, beginning with Mark Tidd, then Tallow Martin, who was next to him, then Plunk Smalley, and last of all Binney Jenks, which is me.

We talked considerable and speculated on how long we would have to wait and wished there was a lunch-counter handy--especially Mark. Maybe twenty minutes went along before we saw the conductor and yelled at him to know if we were going to have to stay all night.

"Better hustle up to the day coaches," says he. "I guess we can pull out pretty soon."

When we got in the car it was pretty crowded, but we four got seats together. Mr. Collins had to take half of a seat quite a ways off from us. I could tell by the way Mark's eyes looked that he was glad. For some reason or another he'd taken a dislike to the man. I couldn't see why, because he seemed to me to be pleasant enough for anybody.

I noticed that Mark had a piece of paper in his hand, crumpled up into a ball.

"What's that?" I asked him.

"D-dun'no'. Picked it up outside."

"Nothin' but a piece of paper, is it?"

"Looks so, but you n-n-never can tell." He opened it up, and it wasn't anything but a sheet of a letter. The writing began right in the middle of a sentence where the man who wrote it had finished one page and started another. I looked over Mark's shoulder and read it.

"--peculiar old codger," it said. "You'll have to be careful how you handle him. He'll smell a mouse if you don't step pretty softly, and then the fat will be in the fire. You haven't the description of the land, so here it is. Keep it safely, and bring back a deed. It will be the best day's work you ever did." Then came some letters and figures that we didn't understand, but we did understand them later. They looked mysterious and like a cipher code--"The S. 40 of the N. W. 1/4 of Sec. 6, Town 1 north, R. 4 west." Then the letter was signed by a man named Williams J. Partlan.

"Wonder what it means?" I asked.

"Dun'no'," says Mark. "Guess I'll s-s-save it and find out."

Now, that was just like Mark. He didn't just wonder what these letters and figures meant and then throw away the paper; he saved it so he could study it out or ask somebody who could explain it to him. He was the greatest fellow for looking into things he couldn't understand you ever heard of.

It was hot and dusty, and pretty soon it began to get dark. First I knew Mark began slumping over against me until he almost squeezed me out of the seat, and then he began to snore. I poked him with my elbow, but it didn't do any good. Once Mark Tidd gets to sleep it would take more than my elbow to wake him up. I bet he'd have slept right through the wreck and been picked out of it without ever missing a snore. After a while the conductor came through and called "Baldwin. Change for Manistee, Traverse City, and Petoskey." At that I had to wake Mark, so I put my mouth close to his ear and hollered. He lifted a big fat hand and tried to brush me away like I was a fly. I hollered again and poked him a good one in the ribs. He grunted this time, and with another poke and a holler he half opened his eyes and wiggled his head from one side to the other like he was displeased about something.

"I d-d-don't care," says he, stuttering like anything, "if we're c-c-comin' to Jericho with the walls a-tumblin' down."

But in a minnit he roused up, and as soon as he really got it through his head what was going on he was as wide awake as anybody.

After a little the train stopped at Baldwin, and we scrambled out, lugging our suit-cases. Out of the tail of my eye I saw Mr. Collins getting off, too. Well, sir, we got off at a little depot, smaller than the one at Wicksville. Down a little piece was a building with lights on it, and that was all. There wasn't any town that we could see, nothing but the two buildings.

"B-b-bet it's a lunch-counter," says Mark.

"Huh!" says Mark, disgusted-like.

We stood in front of the depot, looking around and waiting for uncle to come up and speak to us. Pretty soon we saw a man come along squinting at everybody and looking into corners and stretching his neck to see around people. He was a tall man, so tall his head come almost on a level with the top of the door. He had a mustache, too--the biggest one I ever saw, with ends that poked out past his cheeks and then swerved down until they almost touched his shoulders. He didn't have any hat on, and his overalls didn't come within six inches of reaching his shoes. I most laughed out loud.

When he came to us he stopped and looked and looked. It was mostly at Mark.

"Hum!" says he, after a minnit. "Fattest boy I ever see.... Fattest.... Boy." He reached out an arm as long as a fence-rail and pointed at Mark. "You're him," says he, and chuckled to himself. "Now, hain't you him?" He didn't wait for an answer, but said a little poetry. I found afterward he made it up on the spot.

"I'm lookin' for a boy who is awful fat, But I didn't think you'd be as big as that."

Then he grinned the mostly friendly grin you ever saw.

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