  It took three more days to complete the delivery of circulars. On the last day, Jim had covered the remaining area by mid-afternoon and was on his way home when he noticed a farm that he had missed. It was a dilapidated old place with tumble-down fences and a few rickety unpainted buildings situated well back from the road, almost hidden in a clump of trees. The whole farm looked so neglected and run-down that Jim decided to deliver a circular there for the chief purpose of obtaining a closer look at the place. After riding up a long, weed-choked lane, he reached the farmyard. It was a barren, grassless yard, littered with odds and ends of farm machinery and an old model-T Ford touring car with no top. Seated beneath a huge tree was a white haired old man, drinking lemonade. A pair of bright blue eyes looked quizzically at Jim from beneath shaggy white brows. “Howdy, son,” he said, the leathery old face wrinkling into a friendly smile. “How do you do,” answered Jim politely. “Here is a circular all about the new Farmer’s Co-operative.” As he leaned down to hand the paper to the old man, his eyes rested longingly on the pitcher of lemonade. The look did not escape the bright blue eyes. “Light a while and have a glass,” the old man invited. Jim promptly accepted, sliding from Ticktock’s back. His host looked at the circular casually and then stuffed it in his pocket. He examined Jim and the mustang much more closely. “Right pert-looking horse you got there, son,” he observed finally. “Smartest horse in the country,” boasted Jim. “He can do anything.” “That so?” asked the man. “Reckon he could catch that shoat over there?” Jim looked in the direction of the pointing finger. A small black and white pig was wandering loose around the yard, stopping to root in the earth here and there. “I reckon so,” answered Jim. “I don’t know why a horse would be needed to catch a pig though.” “That shows how little you know about pigs,” said the old man. “That shoat is part razorback, part snake and the rest deer as near as I can figure it out. Leastwise you’d think so if you tried to catch it. Been loose three days now. Not that I mind pigs being loose around the yard—they’re sort of company to an old bachelor like me. But this little thing is the orneriest critter I ever run across. Yesterday it went over there where those beehives are and knocked three of them over. Today I dropped my plug of chewin’ tobacco and hanged if that shoat didn’t eat it before I could lean down. It’s started killin’ chickens too. Nothin’ worse than a hog that kills chickens; never did know one to be cured.” “Where’s its pen?” asked Jim. Runaway pig “Over there,” said the old man, pointing to an open gate. “I fixed the fence so it’ll hold if I can ever catch the dad-blamed pig. I guess I’m too old to catch a pig like that. Too lazy too. I retired twenty years ago and aside from a few chores, I been mighty happy doin’ nothin’ for years, and now this fool shoat has to come along to upset my peace of mind. If I don’t catch it, I’ll find it in my bed one of these nights. Already found it in the kitchen once.” “I’ll chase it in for you,” said Jim, finishing his lemonade. He got to his feet confidently. Getting the pig back into the pen was not so simple as Jim had thought. He had considerable experience with pigs but he had never encountered one as wily as this. He chased around the yard after the elusive animal until he was exhausted, without so much as getting the pig near the open gate of the pen. Panting heavily, Jim regarded the shoat, which in turn looked back at him with insolent contempt. “Feared you might have trouble,” said the old man, who had not stirred from his seat beneath the tree, but was watching with interest. “That’s why I suggested the horse. Maybe you can tire out the little wretch.” Accepting the suggestion, Jim mounted Ticktock. Around and around the yard they went after the pig. The latter showed no signs of becoming exhausted but finally grew tired of the scene. The animal headed through a gap in an old fence and started across an adjoining pasture which contained a shallow muddy pond. In the open pasture Jim and his horse had a decided advantage. While in the cluttered yard his speed had been retarded by having to duck and turn, now Ticktock could open up. The pig’s short legs worked like mad but the horse was always behind him. A quick turn of the shoat would cause Ticktock to rush past, but Jim would wheel the mustang and in a few strides they would again be practically on top of the pig. The fleeing animal now began to show signs of exhaustion. In the excitement of the twisting, turning chase, both Jim and the mustang paid little attention to where they were going but simply kept their eyes glued to the pig. After being left behind on another turn, they came rushing up on the animal, to discover suddenly that they were heading straight into the pond. The exhausted and panicky shoat began floundering in the mud. Jim realized the danger at the last moment and tried to rein in Ticktock. The mustang braced all four legs, trying to stop, but his speed was too great. He slid forward into the slippery mud like a sleigh, passing directly over the bogged-down pig. As the mustang’s hind legs cleared the pig, they hit a particularly slippery spot and collapsed beneath him. The pony sat down in the shallow muddy water with a resounding smack. As Ticktock sat, Jim slid down the sloping bare back and in turn landed in the water. However, instead of sitting in the soft mud, he found himself astride the muddy and now terror-stricken pig. The animal let out one piercing squeal after another, wiggling and thrashing in the shallow water. Once the muddy water had dripped from Jim’s eyes so that he could see what was happening, he grabbed the pig’s ears. He firmly retained his seat astride the squealing animal. Jim knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the struggling pig would wriggle free, since the muddy creature was almost impossible to hold. However, after all the trouble, the boy was not going to let the captive escape if there were any way of preventing it. The burlap bag which he had been using for padding on Ticktock’s back had slipped off with him. Grabbing it, he quickly slipped the bag over the pig’s head. A floundering muddy struggle ensued. Occasionally Jim was on top but just as often it was the pig. Finally when both were about drowned, the task was accomplished. The pig was in the bag. Covered with mud from head to foot, Jim dragged the bag to shore. The old man, laughing uproariously, was waiting beside the pond. “You did it, by gum!” he said, when at last he stopped laughing. “Mighty strange method though. Do you always catch pigs that way?” “I caught him, didn’t I?” said Jim a little belligerently. He didn’t see much humor in the situation. “Sure did,” said the old man, still grinning. “You’re all covered with mud and glory.” The pig was too heavy to carry, so the old man got a wheelbarrow in which they trundled the captured animal back to its pen. “That watering tank is good and clean,” suggested the old man. “Why don’t you jump in, clothes and all and get some of that mud off?” After enjoying himself splashing in the cool water for a few minutes, Jim emerged much cleaner and in a better frame of mind. He wiped the mud off Ticktock’s hind quarters and prepared to leave. “Thanks, son,” said the old man, his eyes twinkling. “Here’s two dollars—one for catching that pesky animal and one for the entertainment.” Jim grinned and thanked his benefactor. It had been a profitable day; although he hoped he could sneak in the house without his mother seeing his clothes. The money earned by delivering circulars and catching the pig proved to be only a teaser to Jim. Now that it had been demonstrated that he and Ticktock had the capacity to earn money together, his ambition knew no bounds. He worried and fretted over his inactivity. Surely there must be numerous jobs that he and his pony could undertake. He considered going from door to door in Springdale, offering his services, but it seemed a tedious method of obtaining work. Then Robert Morgan gave him a better idea. “How’s the Farmer’s Co-operative doing?” asked Jim when he chanced to meet the young lawyer on the street. “Splendid!” said Morgan warmly. “You did a wonderful job delivering those bills. From what I hear you must have been going at a mad gallop the entire time. How did Ticktock stand the pace?” “We just galloped while we were being watched,” explained Jim, with a grin. “The rest of the time we went at a slow walk.” “Smart work,” said Morgan. “We got a great deal of publicity out of that. Publicity is what you need, Jim, when you are trying to start something new. You have to create interest.” Jim thought over the lawyer’s words all the way home. He was turning in the lane when he found the solution to his problem. Going upstairs to the privacy of his room, he began work with a pencil and paper. After much thought and many false starts, his writing began to take form. He labored for several hours, hunting up words in the dictionary, correcting his spelling, altering and revising his sentences. The following morning Jim bridled his mustang and departed eagerly for Springdale. Arriving at the Gazette building he sought out the editor. Arnold was seated in his office relaxing; his feet up on the desk, his swivel chair tipped back and a pipe between his teeth. To Jim he was the picture of editorial genius at work. Being an editor must be a fine occupation. “I have a scoop for you, Mr. Arnold,” announced the boy. “You have?” asked the editor, picking up his feet and a pencil from the desk at the same time. “Have you and that horse of yours started a riot or a revolution?” “Neither,” said Jim. “Something else though. I’ve written it up for you.” Arnold took the proffered pages, reading them carefully. Jim watched the other’s face anxiously as he read. “A very creditable job of reporting for a cub,” said Arnold solemnly. “There will have to be a few minor changes. For example, you shouldn’t say ‘errands run lickety-split.’ It would sound better to use some such phrase as ‘speedy messenger service.’ You see, the Gazette is a dignified paper.” “That does sound better,” agreed Jim. “Do you want the story?” “I think we can use it,” answered the editor. “What are your rates for literary services?” “Oh, you can have this free. I need the publicity.” “Tell you what I’ll do,” offered Arnold. “In return for the news story, I’ll run an advertisement for you. Would that be satisfactory?” “Swell!” “It’s a deal then. I’ll draw up something appropriate.” Jim rode home feeling proud and important. The recent article about himself and Ticktock, even though it had caused rather unfavorable comment from his father, had made the boy hungry for fame. When the Gazette arrived Jim was waiting at the mailbox. His article was on the front page carrying what seemed to Jim enormous block headlines.
While the article was much changed from its original form, and the last paragraph was entirely new to Jim, there were still enough of the original words remaining to make him feel that he had appeared in print. Glowing with pride he turned to see his advertisement. It was equally satisfactory. Turn Your Odd Jobs over to Jim said nothing to his parents but let them discover the article themselves. His father was first to see the paper. He read the news item and advertisement, grinning with amusement and pride. “So you are in business now,” he said. “How did you get all this free publicity?” “Wrote most of it myself,” answered Jim frankly. “I think you’ll do all right,” said Mr. Meadows. “Well, I’ll give your firm its first job. The bull seems to be in disfavor around here. How much will you charge to drive it to town?” “Fifty cents.” “You’re hired,” said Mr. Meadows promptly. “As a matter of fact, I think your rates are too low. I would have paid a dollar.” “Well, I gave you a special discount,” said Jim. “When you do business with relatives they always expect discounts.” |
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