The Great Brain Reforms John Fitzgerald

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CHAPTER THREE

The Tug of War

TOM DIDN’T MAKE AS MUCH money as I thought he would charging the kids to play basketball because soon we were able to go swimming. The first thing every kid looked forward to when summer vacation began was the day he could go swimming in the river. We sel-dom got any cold weather in Adenville during the winter because the town was located in southwestern Utah. But it did snow in the mountains west of Adenville. Until after that snow melted, the water in the river was too cold for swimming. So it was a great day for all the boys in town when we saw all the snow in the mountains was gone.

Tom and I were late getting to the swimming hole

that afternoon because of Frankie. He wanted 10 go swimming with us and take along his playmate, Eddie Huddle.

“You are too little to go swimming,” Tom said.

Frankie began to cry. “You always say I’m too little,” he cried. “Too little to play baseball. Too little to play basketball. Now I’m too little to go swimming.”

“Stop bawling,” Tom said. “If Mamma says you can go, we will take you with us.”

Mamma surprised us by saying Frankie could go if we would watch out for him. She hadn’t let me go until I was seven years old. Then Eddie Huddle began to bawl.

“I wanna go swimmin* too,” he cried. “If Frankie goes I ain’t got nobody to play with.”

Frankie put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders, “If Eddie can’t go,” he said to Tom and me, “I won’t go. And if I don’t go after Mamma telling you to take me, it means you can’t go.”

‘ What could Tom and I do? We walked to the blacksmith shop owned by Eddie’s father. Mr. Huddle said we could take Eddie if we kept a careful eye on him—

There were about fifty kids at the swimming hole. .We all went-swimming naked because nobody owned a bathing suit then. I had learned how to swim when Sweyn tossed me into the deepest part of the swimming hole from the diving board. But Frankie and Eddie were too young for this. Tom and I showed them how to pretend they were swimming by mud crawling. They could walk on their hands in the shallow water and, by kicking their legs, keep their bodies afloat. Tom and I took turns watching them. I knew from the fun the two kids were having that we would be stuck taking them swimming all summer.

After swimming in the river began, the next thing we all looked forward to was the Fourth of July. Nobody in Adenville ever locked their barns until one week before the Fourth. Then suddenly the barns of everybody who was going to enter a float in the Fourth-of-July parade became forbidden territory. This was because people were secretly working on their floats. No one got to see the floats until the morning of the parade.

The first prize was a blue ribbon with the words “First Prize” printed on it. The second prize was a red ribbon and third prize a white ribbon. I doubt if these ribbons cost more than twenty-five cents each. But the way people worked on floats, you would have thought the ribbons were worth a fortune. Mamma had won one blue ribbon, two red ribbons, and two white ribbons over the years. This Fourth of July she was determined that she was going to win first prize.

And this Fourth of July Tom had made up his mind that the Gentile kids were going to win the tug of war. I’d better explain that back in those days anybody who wasn’t a Mormon was called a Gentiie in Utah. Every Fourth, ten Mormon kids and ten Gentile kids between the ages of eleven and twelve were chosen for the tug of war. The kids themselves selected the biggest and strongest boys for their teams. A rope was stretched across Aden Irrigation Canal, which was about three feet deep and ten feet wide and ran down one side of the town park. The teams lined up on each side of the canal. Then the tug of war began to see which team could pull the other into the canal.

The Gentile kids had been getting dunked in the canal ever since I could remember. It didn’t take a great

brain to figure out why. The Mormon kids outnumbered the Gentile kids in town by about four to one. This gave them a four-to-one advantage in picking the biggest and strongest kids for their team. That is why I thought Tom had suddenly came down with brain fever when he said he was going to put his great brain to work on how to win the tug of war. I knew even his great brain couldn’t make ten Gentile kids each grow ten pounds heavier and stronger in a week.

Mamma had a beaut of an idea for a float. She told us about it one night after supper.

“My entry is going to be entitled “The Ringing of the Liberty Bell,” she said, looking mighty pleased.

Papa nodded. “An excellent idea,” he said. “But you would need some sort of a belfry to hang the bell on. And I doubt if there is room enough in our buggy.”

“Mark is going to let us borrow his wagon,” Mamma said-.”We’ll move the buggy out of the barn and the wagon into it tomorrow.”

“That problem is solved,” Papa said, “but what are you going to use for a bell? We can’t use the town hall bell because it is used to summon the volunteer fire de- ‘partment in case of fire. And I doubt if Reverend Hoi-comb would want us to take the bell from the Community Church.”

“You are forgetting the schoolhouse bell,” Mamma said.

“Right,” Papa said. “I’m sure I can get Calvin Whitlock and the other two members of the school board to let us borrow the bell.”

“No,” Mamma said, to our surprise. “Mrs. Granger is a member of the school board and enters a float every

year. I don’t want her to know about my idea. She might want to copy it and take the bell for her own float-You will just have to get the bell without permission from anybody. And wait until the evening of July third to do it.”

“Another excellent idea,” Papa said.

Well, all I can say is that it just goes to prove there is no figuring grownups. If Sweyn and Tom and I had told Papa and Mamma that we were going to steal the schoolhouse bell, they would have had a fit about it. Just for saying it we would have lost our allowances for six months. But there sat Papa and Mamma smiling proudly, as if stealing a schoolhouse bell wasn’t any crime at all. Their consciences weren’t bothering them a bit. Try and figure that one out because I can’t.

Uncle Mark’s wagon was moved into our barn the next day. Papa bought some lumber, Tom, Sweyn, and I helped him build a belfry on the bed of the wagon. The next day Mamma and Aunt Bertha began decorating the wagon. They wove red, white, and blue bunting between the spokes of the wheels and draped it around the body of the wagon and the seat. After the wagon was decorated, Mamma and Aunt Bertha began making the costumes my brothers and I would wear.

On the evening of July third Papa was nervous. Instead of smoking just one after-dinner cigar, he smoked two. Mamma kept looking out the bay window in the parlor. Finally she spoke.

“It is dark now; time to go get the bell,” she said as if Papa went out stealing schoolhouse bells every night of the week.

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1 Papa cleared his throat. “I’ve decided to take Sweyn and Tom with me,” he said. “I might need some help.” “Can I go, too?” I asked.

Papa must have wanted all the company he could get when he went out stealing bells. He said I could go with them. We left by the back door and went to the toolshed fora wrench. Papa motioned for us to follow him into the barn. He sat down on a bale of hay and began patting my dog Brownie and Frankie’s pup Prince on their heads.

“How much do you think that bell weighs?” he asked- “About twenty pounds,” Tom said.

“I’ve been thinking,” Papa said. “If I’m caught removing (he bell from the schoolhouse, it will make me the laughingstock of everybody in town. I’ll be the butt of jokes for years to come. Now you boys don’t want to see chat happen to your father, do you?”

What could we say after that dramatic appeal? We all said we wouldn’t want that to happen. And I knew

right then -why Papa wanted company when it came to

stealing the bell.

“Thank you, boys,” Papa said. “I’ll just sit here and keep the dogs company while you go get the bell.”

“If we get the bell for you, what do we get?” Tom asked.

“My undying thanks,” Papa said.

“And if we let Mamma think you helped to get the bell?” Tom asked.

“I see what you mean,” Papa said. “In addition to

my undying thanks, you will each receive fifty cents.” “You’ve got yourself a deal. Papa,” Tom said. Tom got Sweyn’s lariat and a gunnysack. He put the

lariat and wrench in the sack. He acted as scout, leading

Sweyn and me down alleys and through vacant lots to the schoolhouse. Tom tried the door. It was locked.

“Now why would anybody be stupid enough to lock the door of a schoolhouse in the summertime?” he asked. “No kid in his right mind would enter a schoolhouse un-less he had to.”

“One of the windows isn’t locked,” I said, “unless they fixed it. Mr. Standish complained because he couldn’t shut it last winter when it got a little cold.”

I showed Tom and Sweyn the window, which was open about two inches. Tom pushed it up.

“You stay here, J. D.,” he said, “and keep a sharp lookout.”

I watched my two brothers climb through the win-dow with the gunnysack. I kept a sharp lookout but didn’t know what for. All I saw was a stray dog.

I knew exactly what my two brothers would have to do to get the bell. In the hallway where the kids hung their coats and caps during school, there was a ladder nailed to the wall that led to the belfry trap door. Once they got into the belfry, Tom would have to tie the clapper of the bell with a piece of twine he’d brought along so the bell wouldn’t ring. Then they would have to loosen the L) bolt holding the bell. Once they got the bell on the floor of the belfry, they could tie one end of the lariat to it and lower it down into the hallway.

It seemed to me they were taking a long time but they finally came to the window. They had the bell, wrench, and lariat in the gunnysack. Tom climbed out the window and Sweyn handed him the gunnysack.

“You scout, J. D.,” Tom said. “S. D. and I will carry the gunnysack.”

I scouted and got us back to the barn without anybody seeing us. Papa had lit the kerosene lantern we kept in the barn and was sitting on a bale of hay, patting the heads of Brownie and Prince. He got up and helped my two brothers hang the bell on the homemade belfry on the wagon while I held the lantern. Then Papa stood back and admired the float-

“Don’t forget, boys,” he said. “Mum’s the word to

your mother.” Papa wanted to make sure he got credit for stealing the bell-

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tom asked, grinning.

Papa took out his purse and gave each of us half a dollar. It made me wonder how many things Papa had done that Mamma didn’t know anything about.

Tom touched my arm. “Leave the dogs in the barn,” he whispered—

1 didn’t know why he wanted me to leave the dogs in

the barn, but I did. It was past my bedtime when we entered the house.

“The bell is on the float,” Papa told Mamma and

Aunt Bertha, looking as proud as if he had done it all by himself.

I’m telling you. Papa was really something some-times. But I didn’t mind him taking all the credit. I was

fifty cents richer than when I left the house. I went upstairs with Tom.

“Keep your clothes on,” Tom said. “We’re going out. That’s why I told you to leave the dogs in the barn. We

don’t want them following us. And be quiet so you don’t wake up Frankie.”

“Where are we going?” I whispered.

“To fix it so those Mormon kids lose the tug of war tomorrow,” he said.

“Do you mean your great brain figured out a plan to dunk those Mormon kids in the canal?” I asked.

“I’ll not only dunk them,” Tom said, “but empty their pocketbooks at the same time.”

He removed the screen from our bedroom window, and we shinnied down the elm tree by the window-I followed him to the woodshed. He picked up a partly filled gunnysack and the ax and a shovel.

“What’s in the sack?” I asked.

“Wooden stakes,” he answered. “And stop asking questions. We have work to do.”

Just then the whistle at the powerhouse blew, signal-ing that it was nine o’clock and curfew time. No kid un-der sixteen was allowed on the streets after nine o’clock unless accompanied by an adult. This meant Tom and I had to be careful. I followed him down alleys on a round-about way to the town park. The park was one block square with a bandstand in the middle and picnic tables set under trees. It was bounded on one side by the Aden Irrigation Canal. Tom and I cut through the park to the bridge over the canal. We crossed the bridge and walked about fifteen feet below it to where the tug of war was always held. Tom dumped out the stakes from the gunnysack. They had sharp points on one end and were about two inches thick and eight inches long.

Tom picked up one of the stakes and drew two lines in the dirt about a foot apart, straight out from the canal for about twenty-five feet.

“This is the path my team will use for the tug of war,” he said. “Take the shovel and scoop out the dirt

down about three inches. I’m going to drive stakes in the ground about six inches apart, all along the path my team will use. We will be able to brace our heels against the stakes and it would take a team of mules to pull us across the canal. We will just hold the Mormon team until they get good and tired. Then, using the stakes as anchors to brace the heels of our shoes against, we will pull them across the canal.”

“Won’t they see the stakes?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “because I’ll cover them up with about an inch of dirt.”

“Then why do you want me to dig down three inches?” I asked.

“So the dirt will be loose to dig the heels of our shoes into,” Tom said. “The stakes will still have to be driven about six inches into solid ground so they will hold.”

I began scooping out the dirt with the shovel between the lines Tom had drawn. He came right behind me, hammering the stakes into the ground with the blunt end of the ax. When we had finished we covered up the stakes with dirt so they couldn’t be seen.

I was much too excited about the float contest the next morning to think about the tug of war. We braided red, white, and blue ribbons into the manes of our horses, after hitching them to the wagon. We fastened lassies to the harnesses and small American flags to the hames of the harnesses. Mamma used a black crayon to put an imitation crack on the bell. Then we went into the house to put on our costumes. Sweyn would drive the team dressed in a red, white, and blue Uncle Sam costume Mamma and Aunt Bertha had made. My costume was the kind of

clothing a boy wore in 1776 and Tom’s the kind of clothing an old man wore then. To make Tom look like an old man. Mamma had made a white wig and beard out of cotton. At last we were ready to take the float to the campground.

I could hear kids shooting off firecrackers all over town as we left our barn. Sweyn was driving the team and Tom and I were in our places on the float. Uncle Mark was in charge of lining up the floats at the campground. He was riding his stallion, Lightning, and wearing a white Stetson hat, a bright red shirt, white buckskin pants, and a red, white, and blue scarf around his neck. He directed Sweyn to our place in the line of floats.

There were about twenty floats entered. Right in front of us was Seth Smith’s mother’s float, depicting Washington crossing the Delaware. She must have been sewing for weeks. Mr. Smith was wearing a uniform and hat like photographs I’d seen of General George Washington. His brother and a couple of other relatives were dressed like soldiers in the Continental Army. Mr. Smith and his brother had built a pretty good imitation of a boat on the bed of their wagon. Behind us was Mrs. Winters’ float, showing Betsy Ross making the first American flag.

Uncle Mark, acting as grand marshal, signaled that the parade was about to begin. He rode at the head of it, carrying a large American flag. Behind him on foot was the town band playing “Columbia the Gem of the Ocean.” They were wearing white flannel trousers, white shirts, and straw hats with red, white, and blue ribbons on them. Main Street was a glorious sight with all the buildings decorated with red, white, and blue bunting and American flags. Men, women, and children lined both sides of the

street waving small flags and brightly colored balloons.

The judges’ stand was a platform that had been built in front of the Adenville bank. The three judges were Mayor Whitlock, Judge Potter, and Bishop Aden of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which was the full name of the Mormon church. Bishop Aden was the founder of Adenville, for whom the town was named.

Uncle Mark stopped the parade as each float reached the judges’ stand. When it was Mrs. Smith’s turn, I just knew she was going to win first prize. The applause from the judges and spectators for Washington crossing the Delaware was so loud, I could hardly hear the band. “Ready, J. D.?” Tom asked.

I nodded my head. A moment later Sweyn stopped our team in front of the judges’ stand.

“Ring, Grandpa, ring!” I shouted, just the way Mamma had coached me. “Oh, ring for liberty!”

Tom began pulling the rope that rang the schoolhouse bell. And it sounded to me as if our float got as much applause as Mrs, Smith’s float.

The parade continued down Main Street, passing our home, and on to West Tenth Street, where it broke up. The prizes wouldn’t be awarded until that afternoon. It was time to take the float home. Papa was waiting in the

corral for us. He, Mamma, and Aunt Bertha had watched the parade from our front porch.

We unhitched the team from the wagon and hitched it to our buggy. Then Tom, Sweyn, and I went into the house to take off our costumes and put on our everyday cloches. Everybody got all dressed up for the parade, but after it was over all the boys and girls changed to their everyday clothing so they could enter the contests.

We all began loading up the buggy for the picnic. First came the washtub with a cake of ice in it and a watermelon and bottles of homemade root beer. Then came baskets, pots, and pans containing food. The ice-cream freezer was last, after being repacked with salt and ice.

There wasn’t room in the buggy for all of us to ride. Papa took Mamma and Aunt Bertha with him. Tom, Sweyn, Frankie, and I walked to the park after getting our firecrackers and sparklers from the house. There were buggies and wagons with teams of horses parked on both sides of the streets. Papa found a place to leave our buggy while Mamma found a picnic table under a tree for us. We all helped unload the food. Like all Adenville families we would spend the rest of the day in the park.

Every picnic table was piled high with about the same things we had on our table. There were” bowls filled with fried chicken and potato salad. There were plates with green onions, radishes, pickles, olives, and hard-boiled eggs. There was a big smoked ham and bread-and-butter sandwiches. And, for dessert, we had an apple and berry pie, chocolate cake, ice cream, and watermelon.

I ate until I thought I would burst and so did everybody else in the park. Then the picnic tables were covered with tablecloths to protect the food from flies, and we all crowded around the bandstand. The band played a fanfare. Then Mayor Whitlock held up his hands for silence.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “the moment you have all been anxiously waiting tor has arrived. But first, the judges wish to compliment the persons responsible for so many fine floats this year. They made the decision

of the judges very difficult. After due deliberation, how-ever, the judges have awarded first prize to Mrs. Smith for her float showing Washington crossing the Delaware.”

The crowd applauded as Mrs. Smith went up to the bandstand to get her blue ribbon. Again Mayor Whitlock held up his hands for silence.

“The judges have awarded Mrs. Fitzgerald second prize for her float depicting the ringing of the liberty bell,” he announced.

I could see Mamma was happy as she went to get her red ribbon. Not as happy as she would have been to win first prize, but happy. But it just goes to prove that the more a kid tries to figure out how the minds of grownups work, the more confused he becomes. Mayor Whitlock must have known that the bell on Mamma’s float was the schoolhouse bell. And as chairman of the school board he certainly knew the bell had been taken without his permission. But instead of having Mamma arrested for stealing the bell, there was Mayor Whitlock awarding her second prize. Boy, oh, boy, you can bet if some kids had stolen the bell the Mayor would have had them arrested.

Mrs. Carter was awarded third prize for her float depicting the signing of the Declaration of Independence. It was then time for the contests for kids to begin, with Reverend Holcomb and Bishop Aden acting as judges and Uncle Mark as starter. Grownups who didn’t want to watch the contests could listen to the band concert.

First came the spoon-and-egg races for kids five to six years old. Each kid was given a spoon with a raw egg in it. He or she had to hold the spoon by the handle. The first one to reach the finish line without dropping the egg won. “Don’t run,” I whispered to Frankie. “The kids who

try to run wilt drop their eggs. You just walk.”

It was good advice but a couple of other kids had the same idea and one of them won the race. The egg-and- spoon races then continued for different age groups. How-ard Kay won the race for my age group.

Then came the potato-sack races. Each kid put his feet and legs in a potato sack and, holding the sack around his waist, jumped toward the finish line. Frankie lost because he fell down. I might as well have fallen down. I came in sixth for my age group-I began to wonder why Tom wasn’t there. He had won the potato-sack race for three straight years. And this year the prize was a harmonica. All prizes for the races were donated by the mer-chants in town, but they were usually only worth about a nickel or dime at the most. The harmonica was worth at least a quarter, I became so curious that 1 went looking for Tom. Maybe he didn’t know the prize^was a harmonica.

I found him talking to some Mormon kids. He was making bets with them on the tug of war and writing down the amount and the names in a notebook. I told him about the harmonica prize.

“I’m not entering any contests this year,” he said- “I’ve got a lot of kids to see before the tug of war.”

I returned to the contests. I surprised myself by winning the foot race for kids my age. The prize was a box of Cracker Jacks which I gave to Frankie. When the contests were over, it was time to eat again. Everybody returned to their picnic tables. After eating Tom took me to one side.

“Hold on to this,” he said, handing me the notebook. “It has all the bets I made in it. I don’t want to get it wet in case we lose.”

“How can you lose with those stakes in the ground?” I asked.

“I forgot something,” Tom said. “Mayor Whitlock always tosses a coin to see which team gets which side of the canal. I’ve got to put my great brain to work on how to make sure my team gets the right side.”

It was now time for the kids to shoot off their firecrackers and sparklers and play games while the grownups listened to the band concert. This went on until it was time for the tug of war which was the last event of the day. A fanfare from the band notified everybody that the time had arrived. Mayor Whitlock was on the bandstand.

“Will the captains for the two teams come up here/’ he said.

Tom and Seth Smith went to the bandstand. The mayor removed a coin from his pocket.

“Excuse me, Mr. Whitlock,” Tom said. “As you know, it is easier to get a good footing in the dirt on the other side of the canal than it is on the grass on this side. Don’t you think it would be more fair to let the team that lost last year have the other side, instead of tossing a coin?”

Mr. Whitlock nodded. “I think that is a good idea,” he said. “Is that all right with you, Seth?”

“It doesn’t make any difference to my team,” Seth

said confidently. “We will win no matter which side we

get/- Tom’s great brain had done it again. He got the side

where the stakes were for his team-He and Seth were given the rope for the tug of war. Tom held one end of it and crossed the bridge over the canal. He and Seth held the rope tight so it wouldn’t get wet in the canal as they walked down to where the tug of war would take place.

Seth made Tubby Ralston his anchor man, tying his end of the rope around the Eat boy’s waist. Tom made Basil his anchor man. The other nine members of each team got in place and took a tight grip on the rope.

“All right, boys!” Uncle Mark shouted as he removed his Colt .45 from its holster and pointed it upwards. “Get ready! Get set! Go!” And he fired a shot into the air.

I watched the fellows on Tom’s team dig their heels

\ into the dirt. The Mormon team pulled them toward the

canal a few inches, until the heels of the Gentile boys hit the stakes in the ground. Then Tom’s team just stiffened their bodies and leaned back. Those Mormon kids puffed and heaved and grunted and groaned but they couldn’t budge the Gentile team one inch. Tom just let them struggle until sweat was pouring off-them and they were so tired their tongues were hanging out.

Then Tom shouted, “Now, men!” -

The Gentile team began backing up, using the stakes in the ground to brace their feet. Slowly but surely they pulled the Mormon team toward the canal. Seth, as captain of the team, was the first to be pulled into the canal. And then the rest of those Mormon kids were dunked.

The Mormon team was the most downhearted bunch of kids I’d ever seen as they climbed out of the canal. The Gentile team was proud and happy as they danced around on the other side. But I knew the dancing was a part of Tom’s plan. His team were using their feet to cover up the stakes with dirt.

Everybody went home after the tug of war. There were still two big events to come after supper. The fireworks display would begin on the courthouse lawn when it got dark, to be followed by a dance in the social hall of

the Mormon tabernacle. I guess every Mormon kid in town had bet on the ‘tug of war. Tom totaled up the bets in the notebook when we got home-He had taken those Mor-mon kids for five dollars and fifteen cents. I was kicking myself that I was such a dumb-dumb, I didn’t have sense enough to make a few bets myself.

After it got dark we all went to watch the fireworks. Uncle Mark was in charge of the display, which always lasted about an hour. It had always been the best part of the Fourth of July for me. Imagine my surprise when Tom pulled me aside just before the fireworks,

“I’ll need your help for about half an hour,” he said.

“If you think I’m going to miss the fireworks,” I said, “you’re crazy.”

“You’ll only miss half of it,” he said, “and besides, I’ll pay you a quarter. We’ve got to get those stakes out of the ground and this is the time to do it. Everybody in town is here. Now just sort of walk with me as if we were looking for a better spot to watch at the rear of the crowd.”

I wasn’t about to pass up a chance to make twenty-five cents, so I went with Tom. We got away from the crowd without being noticed. Then we ran home and got a gunnysack, a shovel, and the ax. When we arrived on the bank of the canal, I scooped the dirt away from the stakes with the shovel. Tom used the blunt end of the ax to knock the stakes loose and then put them in the gunnysack. After removing all the stakes, we smoothed out the’ dirt.

“Now jump around on the ground,” Tom said.

“Why?” I asked.

“We’ve got to leave footprints just in case somebody does come snooping around,” he said.

I understood as I remembered how the Gentile team were dancing around after winning. We made footprints and then went home. Tom mixed the stakes in with the chopped kindling wood in the woodshed. We got back to the courthouse before the loudest, most brilliant, and best of the fireworks were shot into the air. After the display was over. Papa and Mamma and Sweyn and his girl went to the dance in the Mormon tabernacle. Aunt Bertha, Frankie, Tom, and I went home.

Seth Smith and the nine other Mormon kids on the tug of war team came down the alley the next morning, just as Frankie and I were finishing our chores. Tom was sitting on the railing of the corral fence. He jumped to the ground and stared at the shovel Seth was carrying. Then he pulled the notebook from his pocket.

“I was just going to start making the rounds to collect the bets I won,” he said.

“You aren’t going to collect any bets,” Seth said, “until we find out something.”

“Like what?” Tom asked, looking innocent.

“Like how you beat us in the tug of war,” Seth said. T think you planted rocks and bricks in the ground on your side for your team to brace their feet against.”

“I give you my word of honor,” Tom said, “that we didn’t put any rocks or bricks in the ground to brace our feet against. But if it will make you feel better, we will go take a look.”

Eddie Huddle arrived to play with Frankie. I went with Tom and the Mormon kids to the canal. Seth dug up the ground every place a Gentile kid could have put his feet during the tug of war.

r ^ tiP

“Are you satisfied?” Tom asked.

Seth nodded his head.

“Then apologize for what you said,” Tom ordered, “or you and I are going to have a fight right now.”

Seth knew darn well he couldn’t whip Tom. “Well, gee whiz,” he said, “you can’t blame me for being suspicious. You and I are about the only two the same size. All the other kids on my team were bigger and stronger than the kids on your team. We should have won easy.”

“Do you call that an apology?” Tom demanded.

“All right,” Seth said. “I’m sorry for what I said.”

“That’s better,” Tom said. “And now that you’ve apologized, I’ll tell you why your team lost. Every year the Mormon team has been winning the tug of war. This built up a lot of false confidence in your team. They were so sure they would win, some of them didn’t even try. It stands to reason that with a heavier and stronger team you should have won, if every kid did his best. But some of them just lay down on the job, letting the others do the work.” Tom took his notebook from his pocket. “I’ll start collecting bets now and begin with you, Seth.”

But The Great Brain didn’t get to collect any bets right away. That little speech of his started the ten Mor-mon kids arguing with each other. They were accusing each other of lying down on the job. Words soon led to blows and in a few minutes there were five separate fist fights go-ing on at the same time.

Tom stood watching with an amused smile on his face. “Enjoy it, J. D.,” he said. “This makes up for all the times. Mormon kids have dunked Gentile kids in the canal.”

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