Night We Stole the Mounties' Car by Max Braithwaite

Author:Max Braithwaite [Braithwaite, Max]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55199-649-3
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 1974-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I have only a couple more things to say about the little house on the edge of town. When spring came it turned out to be more of a cottage on the edge of a lake. Beside us was an immense slough that extended across our garden right up to the house. The box elders surrounding the lot were reflected in its water; frogs sang from its depth. I made a raft out of some old railway ties and boards that were lying around and pushed myself around the slough, and I got a pair of rubber boots.

As a kid in Nokomis and Prince Albert I had always wanted a pair of rubber boots that would come up to my knees. I had a great weakness for water and as soon as the snow melted I’d start wading in it and get my feet wet. My parents tried everything they knew to prevent me from doing this – scoldings, threats, shamings – but nothing worked. They would never lick a kid for having wet feet. My parents only licked kids when they lost their tempers and couldn’t help themselves. They never got mad enough about wet feet, just disgusted.

I almost got a pair of rubber boots once in Nokomis when I was five. I coaxed Dad and coaxed him until he gave in and took me down to McEwen’s store to get a pair. But when I took off my shoes to try them on it was revealed that my stockings were soaking wet. Dad was even more disgusted. Said he’d be blessed – Dad was never damned, always blessed – if he’d buy rubber boots for a kid who couldn’t keep his feet dry.

Anyway, when I saw this great grand body of water stretching away from the back door, I decided that at last I would have a pair of rubber boots. After all I was my own man and certainly too old to get my feet wet. So I went down to Nikoluk’s store and for $1.95 got myself the finest pair of rubber boots I’ve ever seen. Thick red soles, they had, with a deep tread and a nice fabric lining. I brought them home and just sat looking at them – marvelling at their beauty. “Look at those soles,” I said, and Aileen tried her best to be impressed. Then I put them on and waded into the slough. I wanted to see how far I could wade without the water going over the top, you see, and of course the only way I could accomplish this was to let the water go over the top.

Aileen watched the performance in disbelief. And when I’d waded back and sat on the back step and thoughtfully dumped the water out of my boots, she said, “What in the world did you do that for?” I started to explain but then I quit. Women don’t understand about rubber boots.

Then there were the bees.

Away at the back of the yard was our two-holer.

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