about this time a picnic was planned by the villagers, to be held in a grove beside the river. everything was arranged beforehand, so that no hitch might occur; but, for all that, a hitch did occur, since seventeen plum-cakes and five hundred and nine tarts were baked. a fire was to be lighted on an “island” in the river, and another on the shore; and over those fires, something, no one could have told exactly what, was to be boiled. boats were to be provided to ferry the picnickers to and from the said island. by the way, this pigmy island was prettily clothed with grass and flowers, and presented a fine appearance from the river; therefore, by the poetical, it was appropriately named “the conservatory.” it was also roundish in shape, and therefore, from the vulgar, it received the unique nickname of “the saucer.” our heroes generally gave it the latter name.

the children of the school, of course, to be present in all their finery, with their elders in attendance, to keep them from destroying themselves.

now, stephen knew all the plans that had been formed, and it occurred to him that it would be a capital joke if he should take a bunch of fire-crackers along with him, and introduce it secretly into one of the two fires.

“of course,” he said to himself, “i wouldn’t poke ’em in while any of the ladies or little youngsters were around; i’d do it while none but boys were there. no; for i don’t want to get mixed up in any more tricks!”

the longer steve meditated this, the more determined he was to do it; for he had not yet learned that an action,[127] harmless in itself, may lead to unpleasant, if not serious, results.

on the day before the picnic, he applied to a shop-keeper for the crackers. in vain; the “glorious fourth” was passed too long. “but, to accommodate you, i can get some in a few days, i suppose,” the shop-keeper said, with great benevolence. “how many bunches do you want?”

“no, i want them to-day, or not at all;” steve said, as he turned to leave the shop.

but he did not give up hope yet. he thought of will, and the next minute was on his way to see him. by what fatality was he sent there?

“oh, yes, steve; i happen to have a whole bunch of them;” said will. “you see, i had more than i wanted last fourth, so i was saving these, but you can have them all.”

“yes,” said stephen; “but i guess you’re the only boy i ever heard of that couldn’t fire off all his crackers. why, i could make use of a barn-yard full of them!”

“so could i, steve; but i scorched my hand, and had to stop firing them.”

“yes, i remember it, will; that’s the reason i came to you. but i don’t see why you didn’t fire ’em when your hand got well.” then to himself: “just like will; wonder he didn’t scorch his head off.”

“well, steve, let us look for those same crackers,” said will.

but they had been mislaid, and the two boys conducted the search almost at random. in length of time they came upon a little wooden box.

“here they are, steve!” will exclaimed. “this is the very box i put them in; but i don’t know how they got here, among father’s guns. but then i wasn’t keeping track of them—in fact, i had forgotten that i had them till you spoke about them.”

“thank you, will!” said steve, with a broad grin, as he took the box.

then, with thumb and forefinger, he tried to open it, to take out the crackers and gloat over them. but he could[128] not force it open. “what’s the matter with this box, will?” he asked. “i can’t open it at all.”

“that’s queer,” said will; “likely the lid has swollen. well, take them, box and all, steve; and if you break it in opening it, it won’t be any great loss.”

steve mumbled a feeble remonstrance, but pocketed the box and turned to go.

“but what are you going to do with the fire-crackers?” will suddenly asked, as a dread suspicion entered his mind.

steve looked disconcerted, and said something like, “oh, you’ll see.”

now, when a boy falters and says, “you’ll see,” it is generally safe to infer that he is plotting mischief.

will evidently thought so, for as steve whisked out of the house and over the gate, he said to himself, “i believe steve is working up some trick again. and to-morrow is the picnic! well, stunner, i’ll just keep an eye on you!”

on reaching home, stephen found that he could not open the box without tearing it to pieces, and he decided that he would put the fire-crackers, box and all, into the fire.

“that’ll be the easiest way to open the pesky old box,” he said. “of course the crackers won’t go off till it is burnt, but a rousing old fire will soon burn it.”

having formed this determination, the boy’s mind was at rest. if, however, he had succeeded in opening the box, he would have found not fire-crackers, but gunpowder; for will had made another blunder, and given him a box filled with powder. this box belonged to mr. lawrence; he having bought it a few days before, filled it with powder, and put it away among his guns. the reader now understands that it was not the box will thought it was. the reason why steve could not open it, was because the lid caught with a hidden spring.

if that box should be introduced into the fire, it would make more of a “stir” than fire-crackers, and give somebody a little employment in setting things to rights.

the next day was the picnic. the sun shone bright, and promised a peerless september day. this was agreeable;[129] and the juveniles flocked to the scene in good time, with a hungry look in their eyes—a look that always plays over a boys visage when pursuing his way to a picnic, or “anniversary.” stephen, of course, was there; full of animal spirits, and with the box straining the lining of his coat-pocket.

a fire was soon lighted on the island, but steve did not find an opportunity to put his crackers into it so soon as he expected; for, warm as the day was, the little boys crowded eagerly around it, discovering their delight in exultant shouts, and heaping on more brush with never-ending amusement.

steve idled about patiently a few minutes, and then determined to leave the island for awhile, till the youngsters had either sought some newer source of pleasure, or else burnt their fingers or scorched their garments.

unknown to steve, will, who had guessed how and when the boy intended to use the fire-crackers, was watching him sharply. will had also discovered the mistake that had been made, and consequently was all the more anxious to keep a watchful eye on steve. he had planned, moreover, to turn the tables, and play a knavish trick of his own on incorrigible stephen.

mr. lawrence had said to him, “now, will, seeing that steve is preying on my valuables, you must make the best of it, and teach the idleheaded fellow a lesson. you may do whatever you please; but don’t let an explosion take place. the powder, i think, got damp the other day, and so it wouldn’t explode for some time—even if he should drop the box plump into the fire. in fact, unless he has succeeded in opening it, which is doubtful, he will probably put it into the fire. let him do it; you can snatch it out again. if, on the other hand, he has forced the box open, both his trick and your trick will be spoiled. perhaps that would be best. now, will, above all, do not frighten other people.”

it will be seen that mr. lawrence had guessed steve’s intention. but he was wrong in permitting his son to meddle in the trick. the straightforward way would have been to tell stephen what the box really held, and then he would have given it up directly.

[130]

no doubt, gentle reader, you are tired of these beggarly little “tricks.” but have patience a little longer, o reader, for when this last trick is finished, we shall wing our way along smoothly throughout the rest of the book without any tricks whatever.

when will saw stephen leave “conservatory isle” he thought himself at liberty to take his ease for awhile, and coolly taking possession of an unoccupied boat, rowed over to the shore.

while drifting along the shore, a spruce gentleman hailed him, and asked to be ferried across the river.

“yes, sir,” said will, placing the boat in a favorable position for the gentleman to enter it. he sprang in lightly, saying, “i’ve forgotten something over there: take me as fast as you can.”

in nervous haste to do his best, will gave the boat a vigorous shove, and then looked his passenger full in the face. the latter also looked at will. the recognition was mutual; for if will recognized the peculiar features of the newspaper genius whom he had shot with poison in his youth, the newspaper genius likewise recognized the remarkably talented son of the lady who had been his hostess when he visited the neighborhood some years previously.

letting his emotions get the better of his principles, the man uttered a cry of horror, mechanically rose to his feet, and fetched a random leap for the shore. but the motion that will had communicated to the boat had placed it some distance from the shore, and the impetus of the leap adding to that distance, the leaper found himself in deep water, in the exact position the boat had occupied a moment before. any boy at all acquainted with the navigation of boats, rafts, or anything floatable, can substantiate this.

then the unfortunate man said something very wicked—too wicked, in fact, to be set down in a story like this. then he struggled to reach the shore, but will said, politely, “don’t try to get ashore, sir, or you will get covered with mud. the best thing to do is to climb into the boat again; i’ll help you.”

[131]

this was clearly the wiser proceeding of the two, and the man, feeling very foolish, scrambled out of the water into the boat.

bending a ferocious gaze on the innocent boatman, he asked roughly, “can you row?”

will proudly answered in the affirmative, and the disgusted picnicker—elaborating a dolorous sigh as he flirted his eyes over his tousled and mud-spattered garments, and experiencing an emotion of regret as he thought of a new cabinet photograph of himself, that was tucked away in his coat-tail pocket—said snappishly:—

“then take me to some sheltered place where i can wring out my clothes a little, and afterwards i’ll find my way to the fire on the island. can i get dry there in peace, and alone?”

“i think so, after a few minutes,” said will, tugging stoutly at his oars.

“well,” mused the dripping newspaper man, as he sat dejectedly in the boat, with his head resting on his disordered cravat, “i—i—was very foolish to jump overboard; but it is strange that i should encounter this wretch when i least expected it. much amusement i shall have to-day, in these wet clothes. well,” firmly, “i will never return to this village while this bane of my life inhabits it!”

after landing the luckless mr. sarjent at a sequestered spot, will pointed his way back to the island, to look after stephen. he arrived just in time. steve and a choice band of his school-fellows were grouped about the fire, and the little folk had sought other quarters.

at first will feared that he was too late; but he was reassured on seeing stephen dodging around the fire, evidently trying to shove the box into it without being observed.

keeping a vigilant look-out, will soon had the pleasure of seeing steve poke the box into the extreme edge of the fire.

“good!” will chuckled. “pa was right—and so was i. i can snatch it out without any trouble, and then won’t steve wonder what has become of it! just wait till i play my little trick on him!”

[132]

as soon as steve looked in another direction, will sidled up to the fire, adroitly drew out the box, and slipped it into his pocket.

he had scarcely done so when steve whirled around and saw him.

“will!” he cried excitedly, “come away, or you’ll be burned!—the—the fire is very hot, you know,” he added, by way of explaining his solicitude.

“so it is,” will assented, stepping back. to himself he added, “poor steve! you thought i should be blown up by the fire-crackers, did you? well, it is a good thing you don’t know it is gunpowder, and it’s a good thing i am here to prevent a catastrophe!”

stephen waited eagerly and anxiously for the supposed crackers to go off. he imagined that the boys would be struck with amazement and horror to see the fire suddenly snap, and hiss, and roar, and vomit forth ashes and coals. then he would explain how it was done, and the boys would cheer, and laugh, and say, “that’s a bully trick, steve!” and then they would saunter off, filled with admiration and envy, forced to admit that in originality and daring steve had no equal in the county.

but as no explosion took place, steve became uneasy. he was of a restless disposition, and a trifle was sufficient to make him fidgety. he had not observed that the box was fabricated of wood that would not readily take fire, and he expected to hear the crackers detonate almost immediately.

“surely it ought to be burnt clear through by this time!” he mumbled to himself. “what in the world is the matter? o dear! i hope they will go off before the people come here to see to things! why didn’t i at least see how thick the pesky box was!”

“oh, come along, boys, there’s no fun here, and it’s as hot as pain-killer,” an owl-eyed booby exclaimed. “come along, boys; let’s leave this here saucer.”

the others coincided with him, and they were actually getting into an old boat, to punt their way across the river, when steve said imploringly, “oh, don’t go, boys! stay just a little longer, and you’ll see sport.”

[133]

“‘see sport’?” sneered one. “sho! i guess all the ‘sport’ you’ll see here, will be to see yourself sun-struck! no; it’s too hot here.”

and before the trick-player could give them a hint as to what the “sport” would be, he experienced the vexation of seeing them leave the island in a body! it was hard to be cheated thus! but the worst was yet to come. a man was descried rapidly drawing near the island, in a gay little boat decked in holiday attire. a few minutes later this man made the island, and steve recognized mr. lawrence. good man, he came to see that the powder was in safety.

will, who was the only one left, except steve, stepped into the boat as his father stepped out, and whispering, “all right, pa,” rowed lightly away, with a wicked chuckle of triumph.

mr. lawrence inclined his head in token of approval, and edged his way up to stephen. “good morning, stephen,” he said. “i see you have a fire lighted early in the day.”

“yes, sir,” steve quavered. “o dear!” he groaned, “if people are going to keep on coming here like this, the fire-crackers will go off right before them! and then,” drawing an abysmal sigh, “there would have to be an explanation.”

mr. lawrence walked round the fire two or three times—so close to it that poor steve shuddered. “if they should go off now,” he groaned, “mr. lawrence would be scorched and hurt!”

stephen became very uneasy. his heated imagination magnified the power of fire-crackers, and he feared that there would ultimately be a deafening explosion. indeed, it seemed to him that they must be gaining strength with each succeeding minute.

“well, steve,” said mr. lawrence, familiarly and pleasantly, “i hear you are quite an expert in playing tricks. your adventure with my donkeys, now, was amusing, it is true; but, steve, if you would keep clear of such scrapes, it would be better for you. for instance, that experience with the dog—that must have been very distressing to you, wasn’t it?”

[134]

“yes, sir,” steve acknowledged; “it was.”

“but i am pleased to hear of your good behaviour since that time, and i hope that your reformation is real. i do not wish to vex you, steve; i take the liberty of speaking to you thus because i know you are good at heart, and because you have always been a loyal friend to my son.”

such “advice” had been dinned into the sufferer’s ears so incessantly lately that he had come to expect it and to endure it with fortitude. still, he could not but see that mr. lawrence meant well, and he mumbled “yes, sir,” very meekly.

but his mind was filled with great dread. “if they should pop off now,” he ruminated, “what would mr. lawrence think of me? he would think it was all my doings, of course, and that i am as bad a boy as ever! how mad he would be! oh, why didn’t i leave those fire-crackers alone!”

“it is very warm on this island, mr. lawrence,” he said.

mr. lawrence, however, was in no humor to take hints from a school-boy, and he simply said, “so it is, stephen. why do you stay here, in solitude and misery? why don’t you get up and enjoy yourself with the other boys? surely you find no amusement in keeping up this useless little fire!”

steve looked confused, but contrived to say, “it needs some one to watch the fire, sir; it might do a great deal of harm.”

“oh, no, stephen; it wouldn’t be any great loss if the fire should burn up the whole island, and all the brush and firewood piled up on it. it couldn’t spread any farther, of course. come, come, stephen; don’t make a martyr of yourself by staying here and broiling your face. the face looks better bronzed by the sun and the fresh air than by fire, anyway; though some ladies are not aware of it.”

“yes, sir; but the fire might go out.”

“i wish it would, steve; i wish it would; for no one would light it again. it was a downright shame to make[135] a fire on this little gem of an island; but some picnickers have more romance than poetry. well, i am going, anyway; good-bye.”

a good look at steve’s face showed mr. lawrence that the graceless trickster desired to be left alone. “i think this will be a lesson to the poor boy,” he said in himself “for he is evidently suffering torments.”

steve’s relief was great when he found himself alone. “let me think how it was,” he muttered. “will didn’t know where the box was. he found a box like his own, but was it the same? he didn’t open it, and i couldn’t; so perhaps there were no fire-crackers in it, after all!”

a gleam of hope shot through his wrung heart; but that gleam was soon effectually put out by this appalling thought:

“he found the box among his father’s guns—what if there is powder in it!”

he started up in horror. “but no,” he reflected, “if it had been powder, it would have exploded as soon as the box got hot, or on fire. now, was will playing a trick on me? no, for he didn’t know anything about it till i asked him for the fire-crackers; and i followed him around while he looked for the box. oh, it must be some blunder of his.”

steve could not shake off his doubts and fears, and his excited imagination conjured up all sorts of horrors.

he had just resolved to find the hateful box, or scatter the fire to the several winds, when a melancholy-looking individual, whose approach he had not perceived, landed on the island, made his way hurriedly to the fire, and sat down close beside it.

stephen drew back in desperation, while the new-comer snatched up a stick and savagely stirred up the rather dull fire.

“sir,” stephen began hesitatingly, “don’t sit so close to the fire; you might get burnt.”

“hold your tongue and let me alone, if you please! can’t you see i’m all wet?” fiercely shouted the new-comer.

stephen now observed that the man’s pants were clinging[136] unnaturally close to his legs, as though he had been fording the river for scientific or other purposes, and that his entire appearance was woebegone. he waited a few minutes, and then ventured to accost the intruder again. “this is a miserable fire, sir,” he said, “and i think there is a good big bright one on shore.”

“can’t you let me alone! there is no one here except you, and i must dry these clothes.”

“if it’s powder, i suppose it might explode yet, and he’d be killed or badly wounded,” steve thought, in agony. “shall i tell him? no, he would laugh at me, and take me for a downright fool. if he would only move away, i’d poke that fire till i was satisfied. what a day of suffering this has been for me! the women will soon be coming to the island—if it should explode then!”

once more he warned the shivering picnicker. “sir,” beseechingly, “it is dangerous to sit there; i—”

“dangerous!” cried the stranger, his face showing surprise and contempt. “do you take me for an ass, or are you one?” furiously. “a few years ago, i was very indulgent in my dealings with boys; but the more i see of this evil—this curse of civilization—the more impatient and exasperated i become. i don’t want to corrupt your morals, bub, or i would swear! but say one word more to me, throw out any more insinuations about this fire’s being dangerous, and i will begin the assassination of every boy under twenty by making you the first victim! so, be careful! i tell you, my patience is exhausted!”

of course the reader recognizes the speaker as the man who jumped out of will’s boat. but it will not be easy to recognize him as the polished gentleman who dined with mr. and mrs. lawrence in days gone by. nevertheless, we assure the reader that we are positive he is the very same.

this murderous threat seemed to amuse and comfort mr. sarjent, but steve quailed beneath it. “shall i make a confidant of any one?” he asked himself. “not of george, for he would investigate matters, and maybe get[137] burnt. charley would tell me the box holds some horrible, new-fangled explosive, that will stay in the fire a long time, and get stronger and stronger, and then go off like a blowed-up pirate, and tear this island out by the roots! perhaps it is! who knows? perhaps its some terrible poison that will suddenly strike us all dead, or else make us all idiotic for life! oh! i shall go crazy! shall i speak to will? i—i’d be ashamed to do that. pshaw! i couldn’t speak to anybody, if i would, for there’s no one near, except him.”

stephen’s brain was now in a whirl; the strain on his nerves was too great to last long.