Chapter Seven Horace

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Ticktock was becoming sleek and fat by the end of June. Decked out in his handsome new saddle he was enough to fill Jim with a reasonable pride and all the other boys with envy. Mrs. Meadows made two sturdy saddlebags of canvas which Jim had fitted out with straps and buckles at the harness-maker. The completed outfit cost him a dollar and a half, which he hated to spend from his slowly accumulating hoard of feed money, but he felt the saddlebags were a necessary part of his business equipment. He also squandered three dollars on a poncho which he felt any self-respecting cowboy should own. Besides, who could tell when it would rain and a poncho be vitally needed?

With his poncho rolled in a tight bundle behind the saddle, and his saddlebags securely in place, Jim often rode into town. Whether he was going on an errand for his mother or to work at the sales barn, he always arranged his route so that he rode through part of the residential district. The boys who lived in town and attended the Springdale School always took an infuriatingly condescending attitude toward the pupils of a tiny country school such as the one Jim attended. Their manner clearly indicated that they thought boys such as Jim were country bumpkins. Jim felt it his duty to enlighten these Springdale boys as to the advantages of living in the country. While he wouldn’t admit that he was trying to make them jealous, he felt he should display Ticktock and his beautiful saddle as often as possible in order that his city acquaintances wouldn’t get any exaggerated ideas concerning the worth of a shiny bicycle. Then he would be starting to Springdale Junior High that fall and he thought he might just as well start building up his reputation and fame. Now and then he would stop to talk with friends or even take a boy for a short canter. Other times his business would be pressing so he would gallop through the streets with a brisk clatter, fully enjoying the envious eyes that followed him.

Mr. and Mrs. Meadows had rather opposed Jim’s job at the sale at first on the ground that it kept him out after dark. The sales often lasted until nine o’clock and neither of Jim’s parents fancied his riding home in the dark with automobiles on the road. Jim did his best to quiet their fears by explaining that he always rode carefully along the shoulder of the highway where no car would possibly hit him. However, to end the matter he was forced to add another piece of equipment—a portable electric lantern. He purchased a little dry-cell hand lantern that he at first tied to his belt. After he acquired the saddle, the light was hung on the saddle horn. He either left the lantern turned on continuously while he was riding or flashed it on when cars approached. He objected to anything as modern as an electric lantern for a cowboy, but, giving in to progress, decided it was a very useful piece of equipment to own. The problem of cars approaching from the rear was solved by fastening a small round red reflector, such as is used on automobiles, to the rear of the cantle. He felt that added to the appearance of the saddle.

Ticktock and his rider became so well known throughout the community that Robert Morgan, the lawyer, decided to carry out the joking suggestion that had been made in the Springdale Gazette when the Pony Express was first formed. Jim’s name and that of his horse were duly proposed to the Rotary Club at one of its weekly luncheons. The members present, falling in with the attorney’s facetious mood, voted unanimously to offer the two partners of the Pony Express an honorary membership. A few days later Jim received an important-looking letter through the mail.

SPRINGDALE ROTARY CLUB

Messrs. James Meadows and Ticktock

Pony Express, Incorporated

R.R.#2

Springdale, Missouri

Gentlemen:

By a unanimous vote the Springdale Rotary Club has decided to offer you both an honorary membership (no dues are required from honorary members). It is hoped that you will accept this offer and join our ranks.

A dinner is being held Thursday evening June 23, at 7:00 P.M. at the Springdale Hotel. You are cordially invited to attend as our guest of honor. We hope to be able to prevail upon you at that time to make a few remarks about your new enterprise, its hazards and remunerations.

Due to hotel regulations we will be unable to accommodate Ticktock at the banquet table but the Springdale Gazette has offered its usual facilities in the rear of the newspaper office.

We hope to receive your reply in the near future.

Sincerely yours, Robert Morgan Chairman, Membership Committee

Jim was quite excited about the letter but he was uncertain as to what certain portions of it meant. Particularly the word “remunerations.” He took the letter to his father.

“I’m a member of the Rotary Club, Dad,” he said proudly, “but I don’t understand all of this letter.”

Mr. Meadows read the letter over with a smile. “You are becoming quite famous. You’ve been voted an honorary member and don’t have to pay dues as the rest of them do. Also you are invited to a banquet next Thursday where they want you to make an after dinner speech.”

“What’s that ‘hazards and remunerstuff’?”

“Well, they would just like you to tell them about the risks you take in your business, the profits in it, how you like it and so on,” said his father. “You should write a reply to this, accepting the invitation.”

“I’d like to go,” said Jim, “but I don’t think much of making a speech or writing a letter either.”

“Well, that is one of the penalties of rising in the world,” said Mr. Meadows dryly. “You have more public responsibilities. You have to make speeches, contribute to charities and things of that nature.”

Jim got a paper and pencil and after an hour’s labor finally composed an answer.

Dear Mr. Morgan:

Thank you for inviting me to the Rotary Club. I will be at the hotel at 7:00 P.M. on Thursday.

I never made a speech before but I will tell you what I know about the Pony Express.

Sincerely yours, Jim Meadows

The next few days found Jim wishing a dozen times that he had given some excuse and not promised to attend the dinner. He was afraid of getting up before all those men and talking and, what is worse, he had not thought of a single thing to say after two whole days’ concentration. He would go over and over the matter in his mind and never get beyond: “I want to thank everybody for inviting me to join the Rotary Club and for having me at your banquet.” That sounded very impressive and polite as a starter but he couldn’t stop there if they expected a speech. He began to dread Thursday night. However, he had promised, so he felt that he had to go through with it.

When Thursday came, Jim put on his best clothes. For the first time he found himself wishing he had his gold watch. That watch would look very impressive before all those business men. However, if he hadn’t traded off the watch, he wouldn’t have been in a position to be invited.

He rode into town feeling very nervous. Robert Morgan and Bill Arnold met him at the newspaper office and took him over to the hotel. Jim’s dismay increased when he entered the banquet room. He looked at the big horseshoe table and decided there must be at least fifty members. He had never seen such a crowd before. Fortunately, he was placed between Robert Morgan and Dr. Cornby; so he didn’t feel too lost among strangers.

Never having been at a banquet before, Jim was uncertain whether the speeches came before, during or after the meal. However when the standard banquet plate of creamed chicken, peas and mashed potatoes was set before everyone, he decided there was little point worrying. He might get rid of the hollow feeling in his stomach if he ate.

After the meal there were several short speeches and reports about Rotary activities. Then Robert Morgan got to his feet.

“Gentlemen, there has been considerable fame achieved by a new business firm in our city. This company has brought a new type of service to our community. I refer to the Pony Express. While one of the members of this organization has preferred to stay in back of the print shop and eat grass rather than sit with us, Mr. James Meadows, the other partner, is here tonight and has accepted our offer of an honorary membership. We would like Mr. Meadows to tell us how he got started in his present business and something about it. What is the future of the Pony Express and does he expect competition? Gentlemen, I present Mr. Jim Meadows.”

Jim got to his feet. While the clapping was still going on, he looked about nervously. He felt his knees shaking, and his throat was so dry he was certain he could never speak. Then he began to see a few familiar faces. There was Mr. Slemak, the buttermaker, Colonel Flesher, Mr. Higgins from the grocery store and Bill Arnold. Everyone was smiling in a very friendly manner. He thought about Ticktock. Well, if everyone wanted to hear about his horse, that was one subject he could talk about.

“I want to thank everyone for inviting me to join the Rotary Club and for having me here tonight,” he said, going over the opening he had rehearsed so many times. From that point on the speech was extemporaneous. Jim just talked. “The way I got started in business was that I traded my gold watch for my horse Ticktock. I guess everybody thought I got stung on the deal except me. But I didn’t because I knew he was an awfully smart horse. After I got him, I decided I had to earn some money to feed him. There’s a lot of overhead in my business—feed, a saddle, saddlebags and things like that. As for the remuner-remunera-, whatever that word is that means profits, I guess there isn’t much. I’ll be working all summer for Colonel Flesher to pay for my saddle. I have twenty-three dollars now in cash. That seems like a lot of money. It’s more than I ever had before, but I don’t know how much it will take to feed Ticktock all winter. I’ll probably end up broke. There aren’t many hazards in my business. I was lost once, but Ticktock found the way home. He’s got horse sense. Of course when he was thin and I didn’t have any saddle I used to get kinda sore behind now and then.

“I don’t think I’ll have much competition. In the first place, not many boys have a gold watch they can trade for a horse. Even if they did, they couldn’t find as smart a horse as Ticktock. Maybe the Pony Express has a big future ahead of it once I get my saddle paid for. But whether I make much money or not, it’s sure a lot of fun.”

Jim sat down to loud and prolonged applause. His speech was unquestionably a huge success. When everyone had finished congratulating him on his prowess as an orator he walked back with the editor, Dr. Cornby and Robert Morgan to the newspaper office.

“Thanks a lot for coming, Jim,” said Morgan sincerely. “Your speech was the best and the frankest that club has heard in a long time.”

“Jim is getting to be quite a famous business man,” commented Arnold. “If he were only a little older, we’d invite him to join our Thursday night stag parties.”

Jim said good-by and went out to his faithful mustang. He had had an enjoyable evening and felt rather guilty that Ticktock had such a small share in his glory. After all the horse was a full partner.

“I guess you wouldn’t have enjoyed chicken and peas anyhow,” he said as he mounted. “Anyway we got some very good publicity. Everybody knows about us now and we should get lots of work.”

It was ten-thirty and the evening had been much more exhausting than Jim had realized. The effort of making a speech had been as tiring as a day’s hard labor and Jim felt like relaxing. Ticktock knew the way home as well as he, so the boy let the mustang take charge. After a short distance the steady jog-jog of the pony’s easy walk lulled him to sleep. Slumping in the saddle, he dozed.

Dozing in the saddle

Everything was serene for about a quarter of a mile, when Jim sensed something was wrong. Sleepily he opened his eyes and tried to figure out what was amiss. Finally he realized Ticktock had stopped and was standing still at the edge of the road.

“Come on, Ticktock. It’s late. Let’s get on home,” he said in a drowsy voice.

Ticktock didn’t move but stood looking down into the ditch. Jim had the greatest confidence in his horse and as he gradually became fully awake, knew that the pony must have some reason for stopping. Then he heard a whimpering sound in the dark.

Feeling a little frightened, he slipped the loop of his lantern from the saddle horn and flashed the light into the dark ditch beside the road. There was a dog lying on its side.

“Why, it’s Horace!” exclaimed Jim. “He’s hurt.”

Dismounting, he climbed down the bank beside the dog and looked at him carefully. The spaniel gazed up at him and whined piteously. Cautiously, Jim began to feel the animal. The hind legs seemed sound enough but when his hands touched the forelegs the dog suddenly growled viciously and snapped at him.

“He’s hurt in the front legs,” Jim informed Ticktock. “I guess a car hit him and broke them.”

So long as Jim did not touch the injured legs, the dog regarded him with pleading pain-filled eyes. Jim was in a quandary. He could ride back into town and inform Dr. Cornby that his dog was hurt and lying beside the road. However, the dog might be hurt internally also and minutes might be precious. By the time he reached town and then led the doctor back to find the dog it might be too late. On the other hand, how would he take the dog to town himself. The poor animal snapped at him each time he touched the injured legs and moving him might be the wrong thing to do. Jim’s knowledge of first aid was very limited but he had heard that moving a broken limb was sometimes unwise. Horace decided the question by looking up once more and crying pitifully. Jim just couldn’t leave him there alone in the dark.

Returning to his horse, he untied his poncho. He carefully spread it out flat beside the helpless dog. Then, talking gently and reassuringly, he gradually inched the injured spaniel over onto the center of the poncho.

“We’re going to be as gentle as we can,” he told the dog. “If this hurts a little, it won’t be because we mean it.”

He folded the edge of the poncho under so the dog’s head would be clear and pulled up the corners. By maneuvering the sides of the poncho he was able to roll the dog onto its back very gently. Then he tied the three free corners together. Leading Ticktock down into the ditch, he finally managed to lift the dog and hook the knotted corners of the poncho over the saddle horn. He mounted very carefully and with the dog suspended as comfortably as possible in his makeshift sling, started the journey back to town.

Jim was on his way to the veterinarian’s home when he remembered the words at the newspaper office. Doctor Cornby was probably still there playing cards, as it was before midnight. Since the doctor’s office was only two doors from the Gazette building, Jim directed the mustang to the main street. There were still lighted windows in the newspaper office, so his guess proved correct.

He left Ticktock at the curb and went up to the front door. He found it locked, so he banged loudly. Bill Arnold came to the door in his shirt sleeves.

“Hello, Jim. What are you doing back?”

“Is Dr. Cornby here?” asked Jim.

“Sure, come on in. Something wrong?”

Jim followed Arnold back to the office. “Your dog’s out here with his front legs broken,” he announced to the startled veterinarian.

“Good heavens!” said Cornby. “Where?”

Everyone followed Jim out to his horse where Horace was still lying in his poncho sling. He was lifted down tenderly and carried into Cornby’s office.

“Mary said he ran away sometime this afternoon,” said the doctor, as he examined the moaning dog. “But he’s done that so often I didn’t think anything about it. Where’d you find him, Jim?”

“I didn’t. Ticktock found him. I had gone to sleep and woke up when Ticktock stopped. I tried to get him to go on, but he wouldn’t so I flashed my light over to see what was bothering him. There was Horace in the ditch with his legs hurt. How is he?”

Cornby straightened up from his brief examination of the injured spaniel. “He doesn’t seem to have any internal injuries. Of course, two broken legs are enough, but they can be fixed.”

“I hope I didn’t hurt his legs when I eased him onto my poncho,” said Jim worriedly.

“Not a bit. You did a good job. I don’t know how to thank you for finding him. My kids would never recover if they lost Horace.”

“Do you mind if I use your phone?” asked Jim. “Mom will be worried about my being so late.”

“I’d be glad to drive you home,” offered a stranger who had been in the card game.

“Jim has a horse,” said Morgan to the speaker. “He wouldn’t think of riding in a modern contraption. Let alone leave Ticktock behind.”

“Thanks anyhow,” said Jim politely.

“It begins to look as if I am going to have to assign a reporter to follow you,” said Arnold. “Wherever you and that horse go, there’s news.”

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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