So the hip’ sweat blood, and Kennelly sweat blood; and at the end of a week, where they were at was nowhere. Hornison watched it from the bank, and then one morning he went off by himself and sitting on a stump, began chewing grass.
“Tim,” says Polly, “I don’t like how he looks, sitting over there by himself.”
“What do you mean?” says Kennelly.
“I mean, you better ride this hip’.”
“How? Will you tell me that?”
“You better ride him.”
“If he had hair, or a hump, or a horn, or anything I could hang on to—”
“Come on. I’ve got an idea.”
They were in bathing-suits, so they went out in the canoe and found the hip’, on bottom, where he generally was. They could see him down there, eating lilies, and they hung over him, and Polly shipped her paddle and swung her feet over the side.
“Hey, what is this?”
“You’ll find out.”
“You’re not going in the water with that thing. Maybe I didn’t tell you that. He’s dangerous.”
“Is he?”
“You tell me what this idea is, and I’ll be the one—”
But right then the hip’ broke water, and Polly went over. The bow of the canoe shot up in the air, and it spun around, so Kennelly was almost on top of what happened. Polly grabbed for the hip’s ear, and got it. He squealed and jerked around so fast the water turned to foam. He squealed again, jerked again, and went under again. That was all. Polly went down, sucked up about a gallon of water and came up, a pretty scared girl. Kennelly went over, hauled her out on the bank, then went out and got the canoe.
“I guess that’ll learn you.”
“I’m sorry, Tim. It didn’t work.”
“Bigger than he looks, isn’t he?”
“I was scared to death.”
“I told you.”
“I thought I could ride him by the ears.”
“He can wriggle pretty lively too.”
“I thought a locomotive had hit me.”
“All right, then? You going to be good? I’ll tell you something.”
“I’ll be good.”
“You did it.”
“Did what?”
“What we’ve been after. You showed me how to ride him. I’ve been looking at those ears for a week, and it never once entered my head I could hang on to them.”
“It won’t work.”
“Oh, yes, it will. You watch. Now we start.”
So after lunch Kennelly went to work. He took Polly and the Bohunk that owned the hip’ and had them run him out on the bank. Then he roped the hip’ — jumped in and slipped a rope on each front foot, and gave one rope to Polly and the other to the Bohunk, and had them run him back in the lake. When he got out where it was deep, he went down, and Kennelly had to yell quick to keep them from pulling him over on his nose. When he was down, they had to turn him around so he was pointed for shore and the ropes wouldn’t get twisted. Kennelly swam out and around with one rope, and had the Bohunk keep up a steady pull on the other, and that did it. Polly checked up how he was lying by going out in the canoe.
Next was to do it so it would look like something in pictures. There was no cameras on it yet, you understand. Hornison wasn’t spending money on them till he found out how the gag worked. Just the same, it had to be in shape to shoot. Kennelly waded in up to his chest, began to beat the water with his hands, so it would look like a signal, then told Polly and the Bohunk to up with him. They heaved on the ropes; up came the hip’; Kennelly went aboard him like he was a range colt, grabbed his ears, and came riding in fine. The ropes were O. K., because they were under water and the camera wouldn’t get them, so they were off to a good start.
Kennelly kept at it, and at the end of two hours he had that hip’ where he wanted him. The only thing that was giving trouble was how to get off, once he got on. In pictures, when you shoot a start, you got to shoot a stop, and there didn’t seem to be any. They were all right on the start, but the stop had them...
Then they noticed a tree that was hanging down over the lake, and that gave Kennelly an idea. He had them slew him under the tree, and as he went by, he stood up, gave a jump, and caught the lowest limb, and it was a honey. I mean, they got something they didn’t expect. When Kennelly jumped, that socked the hip’ way down under, and when he came up, he had the most surprised look on his face you ever saw in your life, and looked up at Kennelly like he couldn’t understand how he would play him such a dirty trick. That made it great. Kennelly kissed his hand at him, and it was a sure laugh, worth plenty at the box-office.
When they had that, they knew they were through, and started up to the clubhouse looking for Hornison.
“Well,” says Kennelly, “we did it.”
“And how!” says Polly.
“And how. That’s the main part. That gag’s ready for the cameras right now.”
“And who thought it up?”
“You did.”
“You love me?”
“What do you think?”
But when they got to the clubhouse, who was waiting for them was Hapgood, not Hornison. “Hello,” he says.
“Hello,” says Kennelly. “When did you come up?”
“Just now.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Fact of the matter, I got a little bad news.”
“What kind of bad news?” says Polly.
“Now don’t go off the handle,” says Hapgood. “I can place you any time I want; give me two or three days and I can have another job for you just as good as this one, so it don’t worry me a minute. Folks, we been flimflammed.”
“Come on,” says Kennelly. “Get to it.”
“He’s closed out the hip’,” says Hapgood then.
“Who?”
“Hornison. The Bohunk’s notice is in his letter-box waiting for him right now.”
“Oh, my!” says Polly. “And right when Tim can ride him.”
“Well,” says Kennelly, “if he’s closed out the hip’, that’s his loss. I can put on a show with him right now that’s a knockout; but if he don’t want it, it’s got nothing to do with us. We got our guarantee.”
“No. That’s the bad part.”
“What do you mean, bad part? We got it. He’s got to make good on it.”
“I told you already. We been flimflammed. You know those contracts? Letting me draw them up — that’s where he’s got us. That’s why he’s been up at this lake, ’stead of back in his office, where he belonged. Because look: I sent the contracts right over. But he hasn’t read them yet. That secretary of his, she’s been calling up every day to tell me how busy he is at the lake, and how she’s going to send them up to him as soon as she makes the two extra copies she’s got to have, and a couple of more stalls she thought up; but it all adds up to the same. He hasn’t signed them, and he hasn’t even read them.”
“All right. He gave his word.”
“Oh, no, he didn’t. He made it sound like he gave his word, but he didn’t.”