Return of the Great Brain John Fitzgerald

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CHAPTER TWO

Tom and the Wild Jackass

MONDAY MORNING Just a week before school was due to begin I went to Smith’s vacant lot with Tom and Frankie to play. We were surprised to see only one kid there. My friend Howard Kay came running to meet us with an excited look on his pumpkin face.

“I waited for you,” he shouted.

“Where are all the fellows?” Tom asked.

“At Parley’s place,” Howard said. “His father brought home three wild mares and a wild jackass last night Mr. Benson is going to break the mares this morning.”

Parley’s father was a wild animal bounty hunter. When-ever cattlemen and sheepmen began losing livestock to wild

animals they sent for Mr. Benson. He hunted down wolves, coyotes, mountain lions, and other wild animals that killed livestock. The ranchers paid him a bounty for each one he killed.

He had never bothered to capture wild horses before the 1890s. Thousands of wild horses roamed throughout the west during the 1800s, but it cost more to capture and break them than they were worth. But with the beginning of the Boer War the British government sent agents to the western states looking for horses to ship to South Africa. A sound animal broken to the saddle brought as much as forty dollars. This caused a shortage of work horses, roping horses, cutting horses, riding horses, and brood mares among the ranchers. Mr. Benson sold the wild stallions and mares he caught to the ranchers after breaking them. Us kids always hoped Mr. Benson would bring back mustangs because they were the hardest of all wild horses to break. They lived up to their Spanish name, which means “running wild.”

The Bensons lived just inside the town limits. They had a big barn and corral in back of their house with a pasture beyond. There were about twenty kids sitting on the log railing of the pasture fence when we arrived. The wild mares were running around in the pasture trying to find a way out. The wild jackass was standing in the middle of the pasture. He sure didn’t look wild to me. He looked as if he were asleep. He was a male which made him a Jackass. The female burro is called a jennet or a jenny. Mr. Benson’s big roan gelding, two pack mules, team of horses, and milk cow were grazing in the pasture not paying any attention to the wild mares or the jackass.

We climbed up on the fence and sat by Parley. He was wearing his coonskin cap that he would never take off

outside unless he was about to go in swimming.

Tom stared at the burro. “Why did your father capture a wild jackass?” he asked.

“He didn’t capture him,” Parley said. “After Pa got the lead ropes on the three wild mares and started for home that jackass followed him. Pa reckons as how one of the mares could be his mate. The only way you get a mule is to breed a jackass to a horse mare.”

“I know that,” Tom said as if his great brain had been insulted. “How old is the jackass?”

“Pa figures about tour years old,” Parley answered.

“What is your father going to do with him?” Tom asked.

“He said I could have the jackass if I gentled him,” Parley said.

“I know how you break a horse,” Tom said. “But how do you gentle a jackass?”

“Same as a horse,” Parley said. “Pa says all I’ve got to do is ride him and break his spirit and prove I’m the boss. Then it will be easy to break him to pack saddle and harness.”

“You’ve got one of the best saddle ponies in town,” Tom said. “You sure aren’t going to be seen riding around on a dumb old jackass.”

“Shucks, no,” Parley said as he pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head. “I’ll sell him to a prospector or a trapper after I gentle him.”

“When are you going to gentle him?” Tom asked.

“This afternoon,” Parley answered.

Mr. Benson came to the pasture. He was a clean-shaven man with skin as tanned as the leather chaps he was wearing. He was wearing California spurs with two-inch rowels,

which he used when breaking horses. We watched him lasso one of the wild mares with a leather lariat-He led the mare to the corral with all us kids following him. Parley helped his father get a bridle and saddle on the mare. He ran for the fence as Mr. Benson mounted the mare. She stood still, trembling, for a few seconds and then began to buck. But no wild mare can buck like a wild stallion. She only bucked for about two or three minutes and then gave up. Mr. Ben-son rode the mare around the corral a few times and then rode her back to the pasture. The other two mares were just as easy to gentle, so easy that Mr. Benson apologized to us.

“Sorry, boys,” he said. “It wasn’t much of a show. But maybe next time I’ll get some wild stallions instead of mares.”

Parley told us his father was leaving right after lunch to take the three mares to Pete Gunderson’s ranch to sell and would stay at the ranch to do some bounty hunting.

“Don’t try to gentle that wild jackass until we get here,” Tom told Parley.

None of the kids went swimming that afternoon. We all went to watch Parley gentle the wild jackass. He had a halter on the burro in the corral when Tom, Frankie, and

I arrived.

“Help me get a bridle on Chalky,” Parley said to Tom.

“Chalky?” Tom asked. “I named him Chalky because he is the color of chalk

cliffs,” Parley said.

They tried to get a bridle on the jackass, but Chalky refused to open his mouth and take the bit. Then they tried Parley’s Morgan saddle on Chalky, but it was too big.

“I’ll ride him bareback with just the halter,” Parley said.

Tom shook his head. “At least put a girth around him to hold on to,” he said—

They joined the girth from Parley’s saddle to an extra strong girth Mr. Benson used for breaking horses. Tom held Chalky by the halter and one ear while Parley put the girth around the burro and tightened it. Then Tom handed Parley the rein rope of the braided rope halter and ran to climb on the top railing of the corral fence.

Parley jumped on Chalky’s back holding the rein rope in his left hand and grabbing hold of the girth with his right hand. That wild Jackass began to buck as if he were a wild mustang. He pitched Parley off his back in about ten seconds. He continued to buck for a couple of minutes. Then he stopped and looked at Parley who had run for the pro-tection of the fence. And I’ll be a six-legged jackass myself if Chalky didn’t let go with a loud, “Hee haw,” as if he were giving Parley the raspberry.

Danny Forester cupped his hands to his mouth. “Some broncobuster,” he shouted. “Can’t even ride a little burro!”

Parley went back inside the corral. He picked up his coonskin cap that he’d lost when he was bucked off. He walked up to Chalky with a-determined look on his face, took the rein rope in his left hand, and grabbing the girth with his right hand, jumped on the jackass’s back.

“Ride ‘em, cowboy!” all of us kids watching began to yell.

We only got to yell, “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” for about fifteen seconds before that wild jackass pitched Parley off his back. Parley got up limping. Some of the kids began giving him the raspberry as he walked to the fence. Then all the kids began laughing as Chalky let go with another loud,

“Hee haw.” Parley’s face turned red with embarrassment and anger.

“If you fellows think it’s so funny,” he said, “let me see you ride Chalky.”

There were no volunteers.

“Are you all scared of a little burro?” Parley asked.

That was enough to make Tom. Basil Kokovinis, Danny Forester, and Seth Smith try to ride the wild jackass. He bucked them all off his back quicker than he had Parley. And he gave each one of them a loud, “Hee haw,” after doing it, as if to let them know a dumb old jackass was smarter than a bunch of kids. We all sat on the corral fence staring at Chalky, who looked as if he were going to sleep. Finally Parley spoke.

“Pa says you have to ride them to break their spirit be-fore you can break them to pack saddle and harness,” he said. “Nobody can gentle that wild jackass. When Pa gets back I’m going to tell him to take Chalky back to Wild Horse Canyon and turn him loose.”

“Don’t give up so easy,” Tom said.

“Who wouldn’t give up?” Parley answered.

“I wouldn’t,” Tom said.

“Is that so?” Parley said. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give that jackass to anybody who can ride him before Pa gets back.”

Tom stared at Parley. “Do you really mean that?” he asked.

“Pa sure as heck ain’t going to let me keep a jackass that I can’t gentle and sell.” Parley answered. “And I know if I can’t ride him no kid in this town can ride him.”

Parley wasn’t boasting. Maybe he wasn’t a broncobuster, but he could ride a horse better than any of the fellows. And

with his pony. Blaze, he had won the trick-riding contest for kids his age at the county fair three years in a row.

That evening after supper as the family sat in the parlor Tom was quiet. Finally he spoke.

“Papa,” he said, “how much is a male burro worth?” “Not much,” I said before Papa could answer. “Who

would want a dumb old jackass?”

Papa dropped the magazine he was reading. “The question was addressed to me.” he reprimanded me. “However, for your information, J.D., a burro is a lot smarter than a horse, as any prospector or trapper will tell you. If his load is too heavy, a burro will refuse to move until you lighten it. But a pack horse or mule will carry a load that he knows is too heavy for him. When a burro feels he has put in a day’s work he will stop working and there isn’t anything you can do to make him continue. But a horse will go on working until he drops from exhaustion if you make him. When the weather is hot a burro will slow down his pace and nothing can make him move any faster. But a horse will keep going at any pace you want him to go regardless of how hot it is.”

Papa then looked at Tom. “To get back to your question,” he said, “years ago during the gold and silver mining boom a burro was worth more than a horse because so many prospectors used them. But prospectors are few and far between today. I have noticed, however, that some trappers at the campgrounds prefer a burro to a pack mule or pack horse. But I doubt if you could get more than five dollars

for one. Why do you ask?”

“Parley Benson has a wild jackass his father brought home,” Tom said. “Parley said he would give the jackass to anybody who can ride him.”

“I’m sure,” Papa said, “that if Parley Benson can’t ride that jackass you can’t.”

“Maybe my great brain can figure out a way to gentle that wild jackass,” Tom said.

“Well just make certain you do it honestly,” Papa said. “I don’t want any backsliding out of you.”

The next morning after chores Tom said he was going to talk to Mr. Blake who worked in Jerry Stout’s saddle and harness shop. Mr. Blake had been a wild horse wrangler until a horse he was breaking fell on him leaving him too crippled to ride horses again. Mamma wanted me to run an errand to the store so I didn’t go with Tom.

I was sitting on the back porch steps watching Frankie and Eddie Huddle play marbles when Tom returned.

“Why did you want to see Mr. Blake?” I asked as Tom sat down beside me.

“To find out if there was any other way to gentle a wild horse than trying to ride him,” Tom answered. “Mr. Blake said the quickest and easiest way was to ride the horse and let him know you were his master by breaking his spirit. But there are two other ways. He said there are some wild mustangs and stallions who are such good bucking broncos that nobody can ride them. The only way to break their spirit is to put the horse in a stall and tie him so he can’t buck. Then put heavy bags of dirt on the horse’s back and beat him until you break his spirit.”

“Boy, oh, boy,” I said, “you wouldn’t do that to a poor old jackass would you?”

“Of course not,” Tom said as if I’d insulted him. “I’ll use the third way and that is to make friends with the horse. Mr. Blake said if you let a wild horse know you are his friend

and get him to like you, he will let you ride him without

bucking.”

“For my money,” I said, “that wild jackass is too dumb to know he has any spirit to be broken and too stupid to know what a friend is.”

“If my great brain can’t figure out. a way to make Chalky like me,” Tom said, “I’ll trade places with that jackass.”

“Mamma and Papa wouldn’t like it.” I said.

“Like what?” Tom asked.

“Having Chalky living in our house,” I said, “and you living in the Benson pasture.” I thought that was very funny

but Tom didn’t even smile.

“I’m going up to my loft in the barn,” he said. “and put my great brain to work on how to gentle Chalky.”

Tom’s great brain must have been working like sixty. He told me when he came down from the loft for lunch that he had a plan to gentle Chalky. He wouldn’t tell me what the plan was until after lunch. Then he got some cubes of sugar from the kitchen and put them in his pocket. Frankie and I followed him into the backyard. He pulled up a bunch of carrots from the vegetable garden and washed them oft under the hydrant. He laid them on the back porch to dry. Then he went into the house and got a brown paper bag.

“What’s the idea?” I asked when he came to the porch. “I want you and Frankie to go to Smith’s vacant lot and go swimming with the fellows as usual,” Tom said. “If they ask you where I am, tell them I’ll be a little late getting to the swimming hole this week. Tell them .Sweyn is leaving tomorrow to go back east to school and I have to start helping

Papa at the Advocate.”

“But Papa said he would only need you when he has a big printing job,” I said. “He doesn’t want anything to

interfere with your school work when school starts Monday.”

“So what?” Tom asked as it I was dumber than Chalky. “You won’t be telling a lie if you tell them I have to start helping Papa at the Advocate.”

“I’ll tell the fellows,” I said. “But I am also going to tell them that Frankie and I are going to wait for you. I want to be with you when you try to gentle Chalky.”

“All right,” Tom said, “but mum’s the word for anything you see me do, and that goes for you too Frankie.”

Frankie shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “Eddie is com-ing over and I want to go swimming.”

“We’ll take you and Eddie swimming as soon as we get back,” Tom said. “Now, J.D., go to Smith’s vacant lot and tell the felloivs. And make sure you wait until Parley is there.”

I rode my bike toward Smith’s vacant lot. I couldn’t see anything wrong in helping Tom try to gentle the wild jackass. Parley had said he was going to have his father take Chalky back to Wild Horse Canyon and cum the jackass loose. And Parley had said anybody who could ride the jackass before his father returned’could have Chalky. Either way Parley would have to give up the jackass. What difference did it make if Chalky was turned loose or Tom won him? There sure as heck wasn’t anything dishonest in Tom’s trying to gentle Chalky.

Parley and about fifteen other kids were at Smith’s vacant lot when I arrived. I told them that Tom, Frankie, and I would be a little late and the reason why. But riding my bike back home my conscience bothered me a little. I’d told Parley and the other fellows a lie. Tom was waiting with the carrots in a paper bag when I returned,

“We’ll walk,” he said to me after telling Frankie and Eddie to wait for us.

We took a roundabout way to get to the Benson pasture so the kids at Smith’s vacant lot couldn’t see us. We didn’t have to worry about Mrs. Benson seeing us because their big barn hid us from her backyard and home.

“You hide over there behind that tree,” Tom said, “so Chalky won’t notice you.”

I did as he told me and then peeked around the trunk of the tree. Tom walked to the north end of the pasture. He climbed through the log rail fence and walked to the center of the pasture where Chalky was standing. I saw him reach into his pocket with his right hand while he held the bunch of carrots in his left hand. Then he held a cube of sugar un-der the jackass’s mouth-Chalky’s ears stood straight up as he nibbled the sugar cube from the palm of Tom’s hand. I watched my brother feed Chalky three more cubes of sugar. Then Tom took half of the bunch of carrots and fed them to the jackass. When Chalky finished eating the carrots Tom held the other half in front of him and began walking toward the north side of the pasture fence. Again Chalky’s ears stood up straight and he began following my brother. When Tom reached the fence he put the carrots on the ground for Chalky to eat. He patted the wild jackass on the neck and Chalky didn’t seem to mind.

The next morning the whole family went down to the depot to see Sweyn off for Boylestown, Pennsylvania. Mamma didn’t start to cry until the train was pulling out.

“It is so far away,” she cried.

Papa put his arm around her shoulders. “Take comfort in knowing, dear,” he said, “that because of the Adenville Academy we will have two of our sons and our adopted son home.”

“But next year we will only have John D. and Frankie,” Mamma said.

Thai afternoon I again went with Tom to the Benson pasture to watcli from behind the tree. This time Tom left half the carrots by the north pasture fence-He fed Chalky lumps of sugar and then half the carrots. Then he took hold of the jackass’s short mane. At first Chalky wouldn’t move. Tom kept talking to the burro and finally Chalky let my biother lead him to the pasture fence where the other half of the carrots were.

Thursday afternoon we went back to the Ben&on pasture-Again Tom left half the carrots by the fence. Then he walked to the center of the pasture. He fed Chalky some cubes of sugar. Then, while Chalky was eating the carrots, Tom climbed on the burro’s back. I watched Chalky’s ears go flat back and thought for sure he would start to buck. But lie didn’t. He turned and looked at Tom and then continued eating. When he’d finished the carrots Chalky turned his head again to look at Tom, who was patting him on the neck and talking to him. I know Chalky couldn’t understand what Tom was saying, but he must have remembered there were more carrots by the fence. He began to walk toward the north side of the pasture with Tom on his back. He found the carrots by the fence. While he was eating them Tom got oft Clialky and after patting the burro on the neck and talking to him climbed through the fence and joined me.

“Your great brain did it,” I said when we met.

“Chalky knows I’m his friend now and likes me,” Tom said, “and tomorrow morning he will be all mine,”

Later that afternoon we were sitting on the river bank at the swimming hole resting between swimming and diving

when Danny and Parley sat down beside us.

“How is that wild jackass of yours?” Tom asked.

“As wild as ever,” Parley said. “I tried riding him again Tuesday morning but he bucked me off twice.”

“I’d like to take another crack at riding Chalky before your father gets back,” Tom said. “How about tomorrow morning?”

Parley jumped to his feet and cupped his hands to his mouth. “Hey, all you kids!” he shouted. “Come over here!”

He waited until the fellows on the river bank and those who had been swimming were crowded around him.

“You are all invited to see The Great Brain dumped on his behind tomorrow morning,” Parley said grinning- ,’He wants to try and ride Chalky again.” *

“I’ll ride him,” Tom said. “And when I do Chalky belongs to me. That was the deal you made.”

Danny had something the matter with his left eyelid which was always half closed unless he was angry or excited. It flipped wide open as he stared at Tom.

“I’ll bet you can’t ride that wild jackass,” he said.

Right away several other kids, including Parley, wanted to bet.

Tom shook his head. “You fellows know I can’t bet any more now that I’m reformed,” he said.

“But the other bets you made were all swindles,” Parley said. “This can’t be a swindle because there is no way your great brain could talk a wild jackass into letting you ride him. And if I can’t ride Chalky I know darn well that you can’t.”

“I don’t want to bet,” Tom said.

Danny rammed a finger into Tom’s chest. “You are afraid to bet because you know you will lose,” he said.

“Wrong.” Tom said. “I don’t want to bet because I

know I’ll win. You see, Danny, I know I can ride Chalky.”

Parley spat. “What a sneaky way to get out of betting,” he said.

“But I know I can ride Chalky,” Tom said.

“And we are betting you can’t,” Parley said—

I figured it was up to me to stop Tom from swindling the fellows and backsliding. He would probably be very angry about it, but it was something I had to do.

“Don’t bet, fellows,” I said. “Tom can ride Chalky and when he does you’ll lose your money and say you were swindled.”

Danny pointed at me. “Now he has even got John try-ing to help him weasel out of betting,” he said.

“Yeah,” Parley said. “John knows Tom can’t ride Chalky and is trying to save him.”

“But I tell you he can,” I protested.

“And we all say he can’t,” Parley said.

“Leave my brother out of this,” Tom said. “If you fellows stiil want to bet tomorrow morning bring your money with you. I’ll cover all bets.”

I.ater as I walked toward home from the swimming hole I expected Tom to really be angry, but he didn’t say anything.

“I was only trying to stop you from backsliding,” I finally said. “You know you can ride Chalky. And when you do the fellows will claim it was a swindle and not have anything to do with you.”

“I’m glad you said what you did,” Tom said to my surprise. “It will make it even easier to prove it wasn’t a swindle.”

“For my money,” I said, “it is an out and out swindle.”

“Then your money must be counterfeit,” Tom said.

We stopped at the Academy on our way home. The building was finished. Desks for the students and for the teacher were being carried into the building. We walked over and looked inside. Men were fastening the students* desks to the floor in the big classroom with screws. Papa was right. The Academy would be all finished before it was time for school to start.

The next morning after chores Tom dug up a bunch of carrots from our garden. He washed them off under the hydrant and swung them around to dry before putting them into a paper bag.

“Now, J.D.,” he said, “I want you to help me teach those smarty pants a lesson. I’ll go to the Benson corral and tell the fellows you had to run an errand. You sneak down to the north side of the pasture and put these carrots in the same spot by the fence where I put the others.”

“No,” I said. “Maybe I can’t stop you from backsliding, but I’m not going to help you swindle the fellows.”

“Not even for a quarter?” Tom asked.

“Not even for a dollar,” I said.

“Suit yourself,” Tom said. “I’ve plenty of time to do it myself.”

I watched Tom leave knowing he was smart enough to plant the carrots without being seen by anybody. After what happened at the swimming hole the day before I knew it wouldn’t do any good to tell the fellows not to bet. I went to the Benson corral with Frankie. There were about twenty kids there when we arrived.

Parley pushed his coonskin cap to the back of his head. “Where’s Tom?” he asked. “Did he back out?”

“He’ll be along,” I said.

Tom arrived a few minutes later. He had a notebook, a pencil, and a paper bag. He told all the kids who wanted to make bets to line up. He wrote down the name of each fellow and the amount of his bet in the notebook. Then he made everyone put the money they had bet in the paper bag, which he covered with cash from his own pocket. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him since he’d reformed. I guess just getting back into action swindling kids was making his money-loving heart beat with joy. After all bets were made Tom handed me the notebook, pencil, and paper bag containing the money.

“You hold the stakes, J.D.,” he said. “The bet is that I can’t ride Chalky. And just to make it more interesting, I’m going to ride him in the pasture where he has more room to buck if he wants. And I’ll ride him without the girth to hold on to.” He turned to Parley. “Lend me your halter.”

“Boy!” Parley exclaimed. “If I’d known you were going to try and ride Chalky without a girth I’d have bet fifty cents instead of just a quarter.”

“It isn’t too late to change your bet,” Tom said. “I ain’t got any more spending money,” Parley said. Tom looked at the other kids. “Anybody want to raise their bet?” he asked. “I’m riding Chalky without the girth.”

Four kids decided to raise their bets. After changing the bets in the notebook and putting the cash in the paper bag, we waited for Parley to get the halter from the barn-Then we all walked down to the pasture. Everybody except Tom climbed up on the top log railing of the fence. Tom opened the gate and stepped inside the pasture-1 watched Tom walk to where Chalky was standing in the center of the pasture. I knew that as he shielded the burro’s head from our view with his back he was feeding

Chalky cubes of sugar. Then he put the halter on the jackass and climbed on Chalky’s back.

Parley was staring bug-eyed. “Why don’t he buck?” he said.

Chalky turned his head and looked at Tom. I guess he was wondering why he hadn’t been given any carrots. Then he must have remembered that every time he’d been fed sugar there were carrots by the north side pasture fence. He started to walk and then broke into a trot until he reached the spot where Tom had placed the carrots-Tom jumped off Chalky’s back. He patted the jackass on the neck. From where we were sitting it looked as if Chalky were just eating some of the pasture grass-Tom walked back across the pasture toward us. I knew he was just giving Chalky time to eat all the carrots.

All the kids except me and Frankie were staring at Tom with bulging eyeballs and open mouths. They couldn’t have looked more surprised if The Great Brain .had suddenly turned into a jackass himself.

Parley pointed at Tom. “You … you … you rode him and he didn’t even buck,” he stammered.

“We didn’t bet on whether or not Chalky would buck,” Tom said. “I bet I could ride him and I did, so I win all the bets made. And you said anybody who could ride the jackass could have him. And that means I now own Chalky.”

“But why didn’t he buck?” Parley asked as he and the rest of us kids jumped down from the fence.

“There is more than one way to gentle a jackass,” Tom said, “when you have a great brain. I’ll borrow your halter to take Chalky home with me and return it later.”

Danny jumped in front of Tom. “No you won’t,” he said, “not until you give us our money back. You swindled

us. You’ve been sneaking over here doing something to Chalky so he would let you ride him. You knew you could ride him when you bet.”

“I told you all that I knew I could ride Chalky,” Tom said.

“Yeah,” Danny said, “but you’ve lied to us so many times to swindle us that you knew darn well we wouldn’t believe you and that makes it a swindle.” He turned and looked around at the other fellows. “I say Tom swindled us and if he doesn’t give us our money back we won’t have anything to do with him. All those in favor hold up their right hands.”

Every kid who had made a bet held up his right hand. Somehow I knew this was going to happen. I felt sorry for Tom because he was my brother, but he knew what the penalty would be if he was caught backsliding. I knew it would break his money-loving heart to give back the two dollars and eighty cents he had won. But that was better than not having any of the fellows speak to him or play with him.

Danny turned to face Tom. “What’s it going to be?” he asked. “Do you give us back our money or do we unsuspend your sentence or whatever they call it?”

Tom didn’t even look worried. “The only person who can revoke my suspended sentence is the judge who sentenced me,” he said. “You fellows say I swindled you-I say I didn’t. We’ll leave it up to Harold Vickers to decide who is right and who is wrong.”

We all went to the Vickers home. Harold was the son of the district attorney and going to become a-lawyer. That was why I’d asked him to be the judge at Tom’s trial. His mother looked surprised when she saw about twenty kids on her big

front porch when she opened the door after Tom had knocked. She said Harold was in his room and busy.

“It is very important, Mrs. Vickers,” Tom said. “Please call him.”

Harold looked annoyed when he came to the front porch wearing his glasses with the thick lenses. “What do you kids want?” he asked. “I’m busy packing and getting ready to leave on the morning train to go back to high school in Salt Lake City.”

Tom explained about Parley’s offering Chalky to anybody who could ride him and about betting the fellows that he could ride the jackass-

“I rode the jackass,” Tom continued, “and won two dollars and eighty -cents from the fellows who bet. Now they say I swindled them and want you to revoke my suspended sentence.”

Harold looked around at the fellows. “I haven’t time to hear each one of you give testimony,’^ he said. “Choose one of you to act as spokesman for the group.”

Danny stepped forward. “I’ll do it,” he said, “Tom knew he could ride the jackass when he made the bets and that makes it a swindle.”

Harold looked at Tom. “That sounds as if you did swindle them,” he said.

“Your honor,” Tom said, “according to the dictionary and the law a swindle is getting money or property from somebody by fraud or deceit. Am I right?”

“That is true,” Harold said.

“And according to the dictionary and the law a fraud is tricking somebody into giving you something by lying to them,” Tom said. “Am I right?”

“You are,” Harold said.

“Well, your honor,” Tom said, “I didn’t deceive or lie

to anybody. I told the fellows that I knew I could ride the

jackass before we made any bets.”

Harold turned to Danny. “Is that true?” he asked. “Well. yes,” Danny admitted. “But we thought he was

lying.”

“Your honor,” Tom said, “it is not my fault they didn’t believe me when I told them I knew I could ride the jackass. And Parley offered to give the jackass to anybody who could ride him. He didn’t say I couldn’t gentle the jackass by making friends with it. So how can anybody say I swindled them?”

Harold thought for a moment. “The court rules.” he said, “the defendant did not use fraud or deceit and there-fore is not guilty of swindling anybody. The sentence remains suspended. And if you kids were stupid enough to bet after he told you he knew he could ride the jackass, you were jackasses yourselves for betting. Court is adjourned.”

The fellows were very quiet as we walked back to the Benson place. I didn’t know if it was because The Great Brain had made fools out of them or because they liad lost their money betting. Tom borrowed a halter and rode Chalky to our corra! with me and Frankie following on foot. He didn’t have any trouble when lie put our packsaddle on tlie jackass. It was too big, but tlie burro let Tom lead him around the corral a few times carrying the packsaddle. Then Tom removed it and motioned to me.

“Now J.D..” he said, “I want to make sure Chalky knows human beings are his friends before I sell him. Get on him and ride him around the corral a few times.”

I figured that wild jackass might be Tom’s friend but

that didn’t mean he was mine. “I don’t feel like getting pitched off on my behind,” I said.

“I tell you he won’t buck.” Tom said. “He’s plumb gentled.”

“I would rather Chalky told me,” I said.

“If you are afraid,” Tom said, “I’ll let Frankie ride him.”

That was enough to force me to ride the jackass. I sure as heck didn’t want to be known as a fellow who was afraid to do something his six-year-old brother wasn’t afraid to do. I got on Chalky. He didn’t buck. I rode him around the corral a few times. Then Frankie wanted to ride the burro. Tom let him until Mamma called us tor lunch.

After eating I went to the campgrounds with Tom to sell Chalky. The streams in the mountains around Adenville had a lot of beaver dams in them. Trappers who caught beaver and other wild animals for they” furs always came to Adenville for provisions. It was closer to the beaver dams than any other town. There were usually three or four trappers at the campgrounds. But when we arrived there was Just one, a man named Brussard. He said he didn’t need a burro but knew another trapper who did. After some hag-gling Tom sold Chalky for six dollars.

“I’ll bet,” I said as we left the campgrounds, “that he sells Chalky for more than six dollars.”

“I don’t believe he would cheat a friend,” Tom said.

“Speaking of cheating,” I said, “boy, oh, boy, are you backsliding.”

Tom grabbed my arm and spun me around. “And just what do you mean by that?” he asked.

“For my money,”* I said. “you were betting on a sure

thing when you bet you could ride Chalky, which makes it a swindle even if you did pull the wool over Harold’s eyes.”

“I proved it wasn’t a swindle,” Tom said, “and Harold as the judge agreed. Now along comes my own flesh and blood and accuses me of being a swindler and backslider. I think we will just let Mamma and Papa settle this. I’ll tell my side of the story and you tell yours. I’m sure they will decide in my favor and punish you for calling your own brother a swindler and backslider.”

Boy, oh, boy, my little brain and big mouth had done it again. I knew with that dictionary business and with Harold agreeing it wasn’t a swindle, that Tom could easily convince our parents he hadn’t swindled anybody. And I knew my punishment would be the loss of my allowance for at least a month and the silent treatment. Other kids in town just got a whipping when being punished. Our parents punished us by taking away our allowance and giving us the silent treatment which was ten times worse than a whipping. It meant that Papa and Mamma wouldn’t speak to us and would practically pretend we didn’t exist for a day, a week, or even longer, depending upon what we had done.

“I’m sorry I called you a backslider and swindler,” I said.

“I’m not going to let you oft with just an apology,” Tom

said as he took a penny from his pocket and handed it to me. “What’s that for?” I asked staring at the penny. “Mamma wants the vegetable garden weeded again

tomorrow,” Tom said. “I’m paying you one cent to weed my

share.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” I said. “I’m not weeding your half for just a penny.”

“Would you rather I tell Papa and Mamma that you

called me a backslider and swindler?” Tom asked.

“I’ll weed the garden,” I said, knowing he had me over a barrel. “But why the penny?”

“So Mamma and Papa won’t be suspicious when you tell them you are going to weed the garden by yourself,” Tom said. “All you’ve got to do is to tell them I paid you to weed my share of the garden and you won’t be telling -a lie. You don’t have to tell them how much I paid you.”

“Thanks,” I said, but I sure as heck didn’t feel grateful.

I knew The Great Brain had swindled the fellows out oi” two dollars and eighty cents. I knew he had blackmailed me into weeding the garden again. He was still the same old swindler, crook, confidence man, and blackmailer he had always been. His great brain and money-loving heart would never let him reform. And tomorrow, the last Saturday before school started, other kids would be playing and going swimming and having fun while I pulled weeds all day. I felt so down in the dumps that I wished I haa three legs. Then I could run around the block on two legs and use the other one to kick myself all the way for not having sense enough to keep my big mouth shut.

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