John Fitzgerald GB 05 Great Bra by Great Brain Reforms Page B
Authors: Great Brain Reforms
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conscience gave me more punishment day’and night than anything Papa could have done to me. Every time I looked at Frankie I couldn’t help thinking he might have died as a result of a joke-I had terrible nightmares at night about finding Frankie dead. I told Tom about them.
“You aren’t alone,” Tom said, patting my shoulder. “But it is punishment we both deserve for playing such a joke on somebody we love.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Magnetic Stick
I GUESS JUST ABOUT EVERY KID in town sort of envied Parley Benson. His father let him have things no other kid could have. Parley wore a coonskin cap just like Daniel Boone. When Parley was ten years old, his father gave him a genuine bowie knife. So it was no surprise to us kids when Parley’s father gave him the first repeating air rifle ever seen in Adenville. Parley received the King air rifle for his birthday during the last week in July, right after Frankie had run away from home.
It was a beaut with barrel, handle, air chamber, plunger, piston, and all working parts made from brass and steel. It was so powerful it would shoot BB shot forty
infi
rods and kill rabbits and small game at fifty feet. It was the only repeating air rifle in town, and could shoot one hundred and fifty BB shots without reloading. Tom had a Daisy air rifle and I had a Quackenbush but we could only shoot one BB shot at a time.
Parley was showing off his air rifle to the kids at Smith’s vacant lot the afternoon of his birthday. After demonstrating it, he told us he was going hunting. Ev-ery kid who owned an air rifle decided to go hunting with Parley, except Tom.
“Does that mean you’ll look out for Frankie?” I asked.
“Yes,” Tom answered.
I knew from the conniving look on The Great Brain’s face why he wasn’t going hunting. He was going to put his great brain to work on how to swindle Parley out of the King air rifle.
Tom was very quiet after supper that evening. He sat reading one of the books from our set of encyclopedias. Even Papa was impressed with how quiet Tom was.
“What are you reading that is so interesting?” he asked.
Tom -looked up from the book. “I’m reading about Australia,” he said. “We studied a little bit about the country in geography at the academy. But I want to know more about the aborigines.”
“It is quite a country,” Papa said. “It was originally settled as a penal colony by Great Britain. The aborigines are among the most primitive people in the world.”
“I know al! that,” Tom said as if Papa had insulted his intelligence.
“Pardon me,” Papa said. “I thought J. D. and Frankie might like to hear about it.”
At any other time I would have liked to listen to Papa. But right then Frankie was going to beat me playing checkers if I didn’t concentrate good and hard.
“Some other time, Papa,” I said.
The next morning Tom disappeared-When he returned he was carrying what looked like a couple of branches from an oak tree. He took them up to his loft and pulled up the rope ladder. He wouldn’t let me come up or tell me what he was doing. And after lunch I’ll be a four-eyed bullfrog if he didn’t take Papa’s big, leather-bound dictionary, a rasp, and some sandpaper up to his loft. Tom stayed up in there all afternoon while Frankie and I went swimming. Tom also spent all the next day in his loft. The fellows at the swimming hole wanted to know if he was sick.
“Sick in the head,” I said. “I don’t know what he is doing but I’ll try to find out tonight.”
Tom was in the corral when Frankie and I arrived home-He showed us a bent piece of wood about a foot and a half long and sort of oval shaped.
“My great brain did it,” he said. “The first one I made didn’t work but this one does.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something no kid or adult in this town has ever seen,” Tom said. “It’s a magnetic stick.”
“You can’t magnetize wood,” I said.
“With a great brain, anything is
“You aren’t alone,” Tom said, patting my shoulder. “But it is punishment we both deserve for playing such a joke on somebody we love.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Magnetic Stick
I GUESS JUST ABOUT EVERY KID in town sort of envied Parley Benson. His father let him have things no other kid could have. Parley wore a coonskin cap just like Daniel Boone. When Parley was ten years old, his father gave him a genuine bowie knife. So it was no surprise to us kids when Parley’s father gave him the first repeating air rifle ever seen in Adenville. Parley received the King air rifle for his birthday during the last week in July, right after Frankie had run away from home.
It was a beaut with barrel, handle, air chamber, plunger, piston, and all working parts made from brass and steel. It was so powerful it would shoot BB shot forty
infi
rods and kill rabbits and small game at fifty feet. It was the only repeating air rifle in town, and could shoot one hundred and fifty BB shots without reloading. Tom had a Daisy air rifle and I had a Quackenbush but we could only shoot one BB shot at a time.
Parley was showing off his air rifle to the kids at Smith’s vacant lot the afternoon of his birthday. After demonstrating it, he told us he was going hunting. Ev-ery kid who owned an air rifle decided to go hunting with Parley, except Tom.
“Does that mean you’ll look out for Frankie?” I asked.
“Yes,” Tom answered.
I knew from the conniving look on The Great Brain’s face why he wasn’t going hunting. He was going to put his great brain to work on how to swindle Parley out of the King air rifle.
Tom was very quiet after supper that evening. He sat reading one of the books from our set of encyclopedias. Even Papa was impressed with how quiet Tom was.
“What are you reading that is so interesting?” he asked.
Tom -looked up from the book. “I’m reading about Australia,” he said. “We studied a little bit about the country in geography at the academy. But I want to know more about the aborigines.”
“It is quite a country,” Papa said. “It was originally settled as a penal colony by Great Britain. The aborigines are among the most primitive people in the world.”
“I know al! that,” Tom said as if Papa had insulted his intelligence.
“Pardon me,” Papa said. “I thought J. D. and Frankie might like to hear about it.”
At any other time I would have liked to listen to Papa. But right then Frankie was going to beat me playing checkers if I didn’t concentrate good and hard.
“Some other time, Papa,” I said.
The next morning Tom disappeared-When he returned he was carrying what looked like a couple of branches from an oak tree. He took them up to his loft and pulled up the rope ladder. He wouldn’t let me come up or tell me what he was doing. And after lunch I’ll be a four-eyed bullfrog if he didn’t take Papa’s big, leather-bound dictionary, a rasp, and some sandpaper up to his loft. Tom stayed up in there all afternoon while Frankie and I went swimming. Tom also spent all the next day in his loft. The fellows at the swimming hole wanted to know if he was sick.
“Sick in the head,” I said. “I don’t know what he is doing but I’ll try to find out tonight.”
Tom was in the corral when Frankie and I arrived home-He showed us a bent piece of wood about a foot and a half long and sort of oval shaped.
“My great brain did it,” he said. “The first one I made didn’t work but this one does.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“Something no kid or adult in this town has ever seen,” Tom said. “It’s a magnetic stick.”
“You can’t magnetize wood,” I said.
“With a great brain, anything is
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