Andy the Acrobat Page 8

  CHAPTER VIII

  "COASTING"

  The key turned in the lock. Andy's candle had remained lighted. As thedoor was pushed open Andy saw a big portly man standing behind his aunt.

  "Put on your clothes, Andy Wildwood," began Miss Lavinia.

  "I've got them on," answered Andy. "What do you want?"

  "Ask me that," broke in the man, stepping into view. "Sorry, Andy, butit's me that wants you. You know who I am."

  "Yes," nodded Andy, staring hard.

  He recognized the speaker as Dan Wagner, the village constable.Instantly the truth flashed over Andy. He turned to his aunt with apale, stern face.

  "Are you going to let this man take me to jail?" he demanded.

  "Yes, I am," snapped Miss Lavinia. "You've gone just a little too farthis time, Andy Wildwood."

  "What have I done that's so bad?" inquired Andy indignantly. "What isthe charge against me?"

  "That's so, Miss Lavinia," observed the constable with a laugh. "There'sgot to be a specific charge, as I told you."

  "Charge!" sniffed Miss Lavinia scornfully. "I'll make a dozen of them.He's a bad, disobedient boy--"

  "When did I ever disobey you?" interrupted Andy, calmly keeping histemper.

  "Oh, you! He's got himself expelled from school."

  "That's no crime, 'cordin' to the statoots," declared the constable.

  "I don't care!" cried the angry spinster. "My duty is to keep this boyfrom going to ruin. You do yours. I explained it all to the judge. Hesaid that if I, as his guardian, swore Andy was an incorrigible,unmanageable boy, he would send him to the parental school at Byron tillhe was reformed."

  Andy grew white to the lips. He fixed such a glance on his aunt that shequailed.

  "Shame on you!" he burst forth. "You my guardian! What did you everguard for me, except too little clothes and victuals? I'm never out ofthe house after dark. I never refuse to do your hardest work. I evenscrub for you. Well, I won't any longer. I have made up my mind togo away."

  "You hear that? you hear that?" cried Miss Lavinia. "He's going to runaway from home!"

  "Home!" retorted Andy scornfully. "A fine home this has been forme--snapped at, found fault with, treated like a charity pauper. Do yourduty, Mr. Wagner. But I warn you that no law can send me to the reformschool. This woman is not my legal guardian. She is not rightfully evena relative. I have friends in Fairview, I tell you, and they won't seeme wronged. I wonder what my poor dead father would say to you forall this?"

  Miss Lavinia gave a shriek. She fell into a chair and kicked her heelson the floor and went into hysterics.

  The constable looked in a friendly way at Andy. He liked the lad's pluckand independence. He recalled, too, how Andy had once led him to a quiethaystack, where he had slept himself sober instead of risking hisposition and making a public show of himself on the streets of Fairview.

  "See here, Miss Lavinia," he spoke, "I don't fancy treating Andy like acriminal. If I take him with me now I'll have to lock him up with twochicken thieves and a tramp. They're no good company for ahomebred boy."

  "He deserves a lesson," declared Miss Lavinia. "He shall have it, too!"

  "Let him stay here till morning, then I'll come after him."

  "He won't be here. Didn't you hear him say he was going to run away fromhome?"

  "Haven't you got some safe place I can lock him up in?" suggestedWagner. "I've got to make you safe and sound, you know," observed theofficer quite apologetically to Andy.

  "Yes, there is," reported Miss Lavinia after brief thought. "You wait aminute."

  She went away and returned with a bunch of keys. The constable beckonedto Andy to follow her, and he closed in behind.

  A steep, narrow staircase led to an attic room at the extreme rear ofthe house. This, as Andy knew, was his aunt's strong room.

  It had a heavy door secured by a padlock, and only one window. As MissLavinia unlocked the door and the candle illuminated the interior of theapartment, the constable observed grimly:

  "I reckon this will keep him safe and sound."

  Andy said nothing. He had made up his mind what he would do, andconsidered further talk useless.

  The apartment was littered up with chests, barrels and old furniture. Inone corner was a pile of carpets. Andy walked silently over to these,threw himself down, and found himself in darkness as the door was againstoutly padlocked on the outside.

  "If anybody cared for me here it might be different," he observed. "Asthey don't, I must make friends for myself."

  In about half an hour Andy went to the window, It was a small one-panesash. Looking out, he could trace the reflection from a light in hisaunt's room on the shrubbery.

  Finally this light was extinguished. Andy waited a full hour. He heardthe town bell strike twelve.

  The lad took out his pocket knife, opened its big blade, and in a fewminutes had pried off the strip lining the sash. He removed the pane andset it noiselessly on the floor.

  As he stuck his head out through the aperture Andy looked calculatingand serious.

  It was fully thirty feet to the ground, and no friendly projectionoffered help in a descent.

  It was furthermore a question if he could even squeeze through thewindow space.

  Andy had nothing to make a rope of. The old pieces of carpet could notbe utilized in any way. If he could force his body through the windowhead first, it was a dive to go feet first on a dangerous drop.

  Andy investigated the aperture, experimented, took in the situation inall its various phases. Finally he decided what he would do.

  He had unearthed a long ironing board from a corner of the room. Hepulled a heavy dresser up to the window, and opened one of its drawers afew inches.

  By slanting the ironing board, he managed to get its broad end outthrough the window. Then he dropped it flat, with its narrow end heldfirmly under the projecting drawer.

  Andy got flat on the board, squirmed along it, and just managed tosqueeze through the window space.

  At the end of five minutes he found himself extended outside on theboard. A touch might throw it out of position and drop him like a shot.Very carefully he arose to his feet and backed against the clapboards ofthe house.

  Andy felt sideways and up over his head. He soon located what he knew tobe there--two lightning rod staples. The rod itself had rusted away. Thestaples had been used to hold up a vine. This drew bugs, Miss Laviniadeclared, and had been torn down.

  Andy hooked his finger around one of the staples. He got one foot on thewindow sill clear of the board. The other foot he lifted in the air.

  Stooping and getting a hold on the side of the ironing board, Andygently slid it out from its holding place and upright.

  He brought it and himself erect. Moving up his hand, he transferred itsgrasp to the second iron staple higher up the side of the house.

  Now Andy rested the board on his toes. He clasped it like a shieldagainst his body, its broad end nearest his face.

  Beyond its edge he took a keen glance. The moon shone brightly. Thenearest object it showed was a high, broad-branched thorn apple tree.

  It stood about twelve feet from the house, and its top was perhaps asfar below his foothold.

  "It's my only show," said Andy. "I've got to coast it, or get all tornup."

  He let go his hold of the staple. Instantly he had a hand firmlygrasping either side of the ironing board Andy dropped to apast-centre slant.

  Giving his feet a prodigious push against the window sill, he shotforward and downward.

  For an instant Andy sailed through the air. He feared he might diveshort of the tree. He hoped he would land flat.

  The latter by luck or his own precision he did. The board struck thetree top.

  There was a sliding swish, a vast cracking of branches.

  His weight dropped one end of the ironing board. It landed against a bigbranch, and Andy found himself safely anchored in the tree top.