Rascal by Sterling North

Author:Sterling North [North, Sterling]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9781101660492
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 1990-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

V: September

WHEN we curved up our drive, Edgar Allan Poe came swooping down from the Methodist belfry shouting, “What fun! What fun!” Wowser, who had thought he was totally deserted, came bouncing from the barn, leaped to put his paws on my shoulders, and knocked me flat on my back in the grass where he lovingly washed my face with his big tongue.

Rascal and the crow were soon fighting over something, and Wowser stopped licking me long enough to put an end to the squabble.

It was a wonderful homecoming.

Sweet corn was no longer an issue, being dry in the husk. But I had made a promise and was honor-bound to keep it. I couldn’t postpone indefinitely the collar and leash, nor the building of the cage. We had been granted our reprieve and now must face our problems.

One of those problems was money. I had earned and saved enough to buy one Liberty Bond, but my available supply of ready cash was very low. I counted the quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies in my earthenware crock and decided that if I bought the leash and collar, and the lumber and chicken wire for the cage, it would set me back about six months in purchasing canvas to cover my canoe. And that meant the canoe would have to stay in the living room another winter.

Not one of the boys I knew was granted an allowance or would even think of asking his father for a loan. I felt fortunate to be permitted to keep the money I earned from mowing lawns and selling my garden produce.

I took four precious quarters from the crock, put Rascal in the basket of my bicycle, and pedaled slowly and sadly downtown. Buying a collar and leash for my pet raccoon was like buying a ball and chain for a dear friend. But I thought it would be wise to have Rascal’s approval and assistance; it might lessen his terror when he found that his freedom had vanished.

We stopped at Shadwick’s Harness and Leather Emporium, which smelled delightfully of tanned leather, saddle soap, and harness oil. It was a perfect place for Rascal to browse, examining the stirrups of both Western and English saddles, the brass buckles on the work harnesses, and the exquisite silver mountings on a set of driving harnesses being made for the local banker’s high-stepping team.

Garth Shadwick, like his father before him, was a craftsman in leather whose skill was known as far away as the county seat and the state capital. He made handsome leather luggage, custom-fitted riding boots, and engraved book bindings. But most of his trade was in harnesses; and harness-making was a profession threatened by the automobile.

At this moment Mr. Shadwick had a jeweler’s glass in his right eye and was engraving scrolled initials on a silver nameplate. I would not interrupt him at such a moment, and waited patiently until he took the glass from his eye and looked up from his work.

“Well, Sterling?”

“We don’t want to bother you, Mr.

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