Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull

Ch.3 Banjos, Bats, Biscuits & Bull
Yeats chewed his biscuit methodically by the fire. Al and Jack waited, not so patiently.
'Good biscuit.' he said at last.
'Yeats, old man...please!'Al couldn't stand it anymore.
Yeats moved to the armchair across from them, and sighed heavily as he sat. He looked older to them suddenly; they noted rather a difference from his jaunty departure only weeks ago...
'Everyone is safe. Secure.' He nailed them with a look. 'That's enough for now. The less you know, the better for them, and for you.' He stretched his legs out and crossed them before him.
'That we can accept. But, what of Flubber?' Aleister was leaning forward now, rather a bristling look about himself for a change.
'What of him?' Yeats said dismissively.
Aleister reared back, hands upon his knees, chin tucked in like a bull about to charge. Jack noted this and said, 'Well, it's just that, you must admit, we've had reason to wonder about his recent involvment in things. Sir.' He added, wisely.
'Yesss...John...' Yeats breathed out, 'John is a wild card, admittedly. Much like the two of you!' He glanced their way.
'Sometimes...a wild card can tip a hand in one's favor. Like the Jack of Hearts.' He added enigmatically, staring again at the fire and drumming his fingers slowly...
Jack and Al looked at one another. Jack shrugged. 'Well, I'm off to bed, then! There's plenty of work to do here, now that I'm off work!' Jack sighed, giving Al a meaningful look.
'Been a long day, for me as well.'Al stood and followed Jack to the stairway. They both stopped a moment, and paused, hands resting on the bannister. 'Good to have you back, sir.' They said, truthfully.
Yeats just nodded, lost in thought.
                         . . . . .
The sun seemed to be heading lower rather quickly thought Jack...well I suppose that's what happens when you get to bed late and then arise late the next day...
Jack had just finished washing up after a day of clearing out the third floor of the house. He'd decided since Em was so all-fired enamoured of the turret rooms, he'd start a little preliminary work on the Indigo Room, as she called it.
He'd just shaved and was drying his hair, when he thought he heard hoofbeats coming up the drive. Flinging the towel around his shoulders, clad only in pants and braces,  he headed out on the porch.
Imagine his surprise to see a pair of black Andalusians round the corner bearing a cart with Emmeline and Ernestine with a gent Jack took to be Leon, Tina's brother driving.
Jack raised a hand in greeting. 'Well, now, Emmeline!' He inclined his head to Tina and Leon. 'How'do.'
'Jack!'Em piped up brightly. 'My friends, Ernestine and Leon Guevara,please meet my dear friend, Jack Van Horn! Rather more properly, this time,'she added, thinking of the last time they were there, after Lev's jailbreak.
Jack and Leon shook hands and he nodded to Tina, 'Miss Tina. Would you all care to come inside and...' Jack looked abit at loose ends, realizing he was 1/2 dressed, suddenly.
'Oh, Jack!' Em laughed lightly, 'You didn't forget the hoe-down tonight!'
He had.'No, not at all!' he lied quickly, 'I'm just washing up! I'll  throw some shoes and a shirt on, and we're on our way?' he asked, just to be sure.
'No hurry, Jack,'Leon assured him. 'Although it is up in the hills aways. Gets dark early there...'
Jack nodded and held up one finger, as he trotted back up the porch and inside,'Be right out!'
Tina glanced back at Em who had moved to the rear meanwhile.'Not bad, Em. Not bad at all!'She had been eyeing Jack's admirable
physique in all its' de-shirted glory.
'Tina!'Em's cheeks flamed, matching the sunset.
Jack appeared moments later, suited up for the evening in his blue serge, and carrying what looked like a guitar case,he swung himself up beside Emmeline in the back seat. 'I see you're ready for action, then, Jack!' she appraised him approvingly.
'Ah, well, you know, just in case!' he winked...'S'been awhile...'
'Thank you, Jack,' Em said.
'Hmm?'
'You know, for last night...I'm sorry I'd fallen asleep like that...it had been a long day, on top of a long week,'Em bit her lip, embarrassed.
'Oh, you know...it happens. I just made it home before dropping off myself! And guess who showed up, Em?--Yeats!'
To the excited exclamations and questions of Em and the Guevara's,Jack told them all he knew, which wasn't much. But it did quiet Em's anxiety level somewhat, just to have the assurrance of everyone's safety at last.
On they traveled, chatting about sundry topics, heading upwards into the woods.  It became hilly and the lane swerved around curves, switching this way and that. The  pastureland with occasional oak trees soon became rugged with manzanita and  pines. As the pine trees and redwoods became more numerous, the light dimmed and a cobalt blue sky showed navy about the edges as twilight crept in. Crickets and the occasional bullfrog's croak were heard accompanying the horses' plodding steps upward. Jack helped Emmeline slip her winter coat about her as nightfall settled on the Sierra foothills.
Soon, however, they thought they could detect sounds of more human origin and low strains of music on the wind. 'We must be getting close, now, Em!' Jack had gotten his second wind , with the cool of the evening refreshing his spirits anew.
Leon smiled and glanced back. 'Just around that next bend in the road!' he confirmed. And indeed, as they rounded the corner, the party came upon a hollow, a small valley really, nestled among the mountainside, with a creek flowing merrily throughout. Buckboards and wagons, mules and horses milled about the corrals and folks were gathering around a huge bonfire behind the house where long tables set round with benches bore evidence of a variety of potluck comestibles, including several pies Jack took note of, along with many jugs with mysterious contents...best make a wide berth around those, he told himself.
The night seemed to be settled in this one valley, at least it appeared darker here and the stars brighter and closer, against the light of the bonfire and the lanterns strewn among the trees. Music wafted along from the huge red barn aways from the
dining tables and Jack could make out several fiddles and guitars, banjos, and at least one mandolin...perhaps even a dulcimer. He grinned at Emmeline who smiled back, as he took his guitar and helped her from the cart. 'Welcome to our humble hoe-down, Massachusettes!' she said.
Jack helped Leon unhitch the horses as they would be there awhile. Jack ran his hands over their glossy black hides, admiringly. 'Beautiful pair,' he said appreciatively. Leon smiled. 'My beauties, my pride and joy!' As they each led a horse off to the corrals, Em and Tina unpacked their baskets from the cart and carried their offerings to the groaning boards,  greeting folk, catching up on news and stepping around the chickens and children running about the yard.
'It's wonderful that Alice and Lev are safely out of town and in a good place, Em, no?' Tina asked as they set out their casseroles and breads.'I have some good news for you as well! Guess who is here tonight? My momi, Marta! And she has brought some special herbs and elixers for you, too, especially!'
Em was delighted.'Oh, Tina! How marvellous! She is back from Oaxaca!?'
Tina nodded. 'She's probably in the house. Come on! The men can catch up with us later, no?' Em agreed enthusiastically as they headed off to the big red farm house with the large white veranda enclosing two sides, hospitably set with wicker chairs,settees and tables where groups were gathered, chatting amiably and sipping ice teas, old folks rocking in rockers, mothers soothing babies to sleep...
                              . . . . .
Not having had time to partake of dinner as yet, with Leon's help, Jack quickly found himself amongst the fried chicken, black-eyed peas, tamales, goulash, potatoes au gratin and 10 other ways, and of course, 'Sourdough biscuits!' he exclaimed, having a jones already from Friday night, so long ago now...he had moved onto sweet potato pie when he began to wonder where Emmeline had gone to.
'Oh, a man with an appetite! How novel!' a strange voice that cut like a whip sounded suddenly at his shoulder.
'Yes, ma'am, ah, miss!' Jack hastily swallowed the last of his pie, wiping his mouth w/a checked napkin. 'Hadn't eaten dinner as yet this evening.'He quickly took stock of the situation, wondering again of Em's whereabouts.' Jack Van Horn, and...?'
'This is my daughter,Ayn ' suddenly a formidable woman loomed behind said offspring; wearing acres of some flowered cotton dress yet looking enough like the daughter that Jack didn't doubt her words. Here indeed,the future looked grim. 'Ayn Rand. I'm Mrs. Rand.'
Jack looked around him. Where the hell was Leon?
And then, behind him--'Jack! Grab your guitar! We're cookin' muchacho!' Leon at last! There IS a goddess, thought Jack as he nodded briefly to the Rand trap and made his escape...
                                . . . . .
Jack stepped into the barn as if into another world: it was a miniature Grand Ole Opry, he thought...as they were greeted by a wall of sound echoing with stomping feet, clapping hands, whoops and hollers, all amplified nicely in the great,cavernous barn, but mostly with some of the finest guitar and banjo pickin', fiddle faddlin' and singing west of Ole Miss...
A wide grin splitting his face, he followed Leon up to the makeshift stage as his new amigo waved and greeted others, encluding not a few lovely senoritas, Jack noticed. He bet that they wouldn't fall asleep on him...where the heck was Em?
The last song ended and soon Jack didn't even care, as a lone fiddle player took the stand and launched into a mix to beat the band sounding like a goulash of Orange Blossom Special, Black Mountain Rag, Wabash Cannonball, and Tennessee Stud as played by some fella who knew more about music when he was still in the womb perhaps,than did Jack.He shook his head, his grin turning to awe. He was waaay outof his league here,Jack realized! He'd have to come up with something different, for sure...
After the roar of approval died down, a trio took the stage;  a guitar player, fiddle player and banjo. The guitarist positioned himself far in front of the others and smiled, raising an enquiring eyebrow. He was tall, fair and flashy or so bethought himself. Jack thought he reminded him of Zap Brannigan of Futurama fame, an oldies tv show,based on an even older tv show.
Johnny Guitar proceeded to treat them all to his version of
'When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again', deciding he needed to stroll about the crowd, stopping at each young marriagable maiden to regale her with his mediocre at best rendition.
Strangely, this nearly caused a cat-tussle with a couple of the ladies who were sure his song was meant for her only...
It was at that point that Em appeared at Jack's side at long last.
'Oh, my...I'm sorry Jack I've been gone so long! But not long enough, I see,'she surmised, taking in the situation.
At last, the song ignominiously ended and johnny g.was long gone satisfied at the hornet's nest he'd stirred.

Jack then noticed Leon was onstage with his concertina, motioning him up whilst others filed on bearing fiddles, a bass, a conga type drum, and two more guitars and a banjo. Jack shrugged at Em, who smiled encouragingly as he joined the others.
Everyone tuned up awhile and gave the crowd a chance to get a drink and chat a spell. Jack shook hands with the other musicians and received a warm welcome when they learned he was there with Em and the Guevaras. Still, some couldn't but help rib Jack a little about his easterners'  suit and shoes with the blue tint.
'Nice shoes you got there, city feller,' said the guitar player who spat to the side.
'Yep, real nice shoes.' agreed the mandolin player who, Jack recalled was named Jethro something.
'Thanks, ah...'
'Simpson's the name. Homer Simpson.'They shook hands.
'This here's Jethro Bodine.'
'Jack VAn Horn, pleased to meet you both!' Jack said, noticing that all had suddenly gone quiet except for him.
'Well! Seems we have a new player in town!' The head of the hoe-down and MC for the evening and erstwhile owner of the West Pankhurst Saloon the Leaping Lizard, Mr. Woody Marley declaimed, turning to Jack. 'So!--Jack! May I call you Jack?'
'Just don't call me late for dinner,Woody!' Jack trotted out. (Ba-dum-bum.)
Everyone laughed, thankfully. Everything old is new again, thought Jack, getting an idea.
'Well, now, why don't we let our guest lead us in song, then, shall we?'
Woody led the applause as he stepped off the stage.
'Why thank you, Woody, I'd be honored.' Jack stepped up to the occasion. 'And thank you all, for a fine welcome and fine pie, indeed...' Some whoops seconded that sentiment and Jack turned to the others, 'I'm not sure what key this will be in...'
'Ah, now you just take off there, Jack Be Nimble, we'll catch up right quick!' said Homer, winking at Jethro.
Jack spun around, striking a chord. 'Welll-ll it's: One For the Money!' he jerked his hips and ,ba-dum-bum, the conga player caught on! He slammed another chord: 'Two for the show!' Ba-dum-bam! 'Three to get ready,'he nodded briefly to the others, 'Now go, cat, go!' he launched into full Elvis mode, 'But don't you--step on my blue suede shoes! You can do anything but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' To his relief, the others had caught him like they said they would and were riffing like sombitches...'Blue, blue blue suede shoes...' When he heard some appreciative whoops and hollers, he leapt from the stage and began HIS rounds of the audience, only much differently from johnny guitar...he picked out old ladies to sing to, and young children. He slung his guitar behind him and guided a young 7 year old senorita  in a dance, still singing he moved on to a 70 year old great-grandma, who, still sprightly, made a twirl under his arm before sitting back down, pleased as peaches.
'Well, you can do anything, but lay offa my blue suede shoes!' he jumped back onstage to a round of howls and whistles...'you can burn ma house, steal my car, drink my liquor from an old fruit jar, but oh oh honey lay offa my shoes...'and so it went...ending thankfully Jack thought, with applause.
'Well, now that wasn't so bad, there, old son!' Homer nodded to him. 'You got any thing else you might pull outa your ole f-hole there?' He and Jethro laughed, Jack joined in. 'Maybe. You feel up to it?'
'Hell, yes.'Homer reached behind him, and offered Jack the jug.
Holy moley, thought Jack, not again! Now is not the time to be inhospitable, though... Gamely, Jack took the proffered ceramic.
Hm. Rocket fuel, no doubt, he thought. Taking a cautious sip, he was pleasantly surprised. He took another pull.
'Jack likes the jack, apparently,'Jethro said, approvingly.
'Apple brandy! Damn good, too!' Jack handed back the jug, noting that the audience was stomping feet, clapping and generally growing rather restive. 'Ready, boys? A one, two...'he nodded, to them,then turned to the crowd,
'Heeeyyyyy! Get rhythm, when you get the blues! C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
The hollerin' and cheers went up a notch.
'...Get a rock 'n roll feelin' in your bones, get tappin' your toes, and get goin'
--get rhythm, when you get the blues!'
Jack had 'em!He noticed Emmeline eyeing him with new appreciation,smiling and clapping her hands in time and tappin' her toe before him. Em and all, he thought.
Glad I came...
'C'mon get rhythm, when you get the blues!
Lil'shoeshine boy he never gets low down,
but he's got the dirtiest job in town!
Bendin' low over people's feet on a windy corner of a dirty street. Well, I asked, as he shined my shoes, how'd he keep from gettin the blues? He grinned as he raised his lil' head,
popped his shoeshine rag and then he said,
Get rhythm! When you get the blues...c'mon get rhythm,
when you get the blues!'
                               . . . .
As it grew darker in the hollow, some of the crowd had thinned abit with the late hour,but the barn dance was still lively; just not quite so over-crowded and boisterous now. The music reflected this and slower songs, 'belly-rubbers' and ballads were trotted out to an appreciative audience.
It was then that Emmeline took her turn onstage, accompanied by the maestro fiddler Mr. Stoneman, Homer and Jethro and Jack of course. Em knew that Jack had made such a hit that she'd have to enclude him as frontman.She whispered something in his ear, then turned to the audience: 'This is a little something we'll dedicate to those lonesome Texans in the crowd!' Clapping and hollering greeted that pronouncement favorably and then Em and Jack launched into:
'There's a Yellow Rose of Texas, that I am going to see!
Nobody else could miss her, not half as much as me...
She cried so when I left her, it like to broke my heart,
And if I ever find her, we never more will part!...'
They made a fine duet, and couples swung out onto the floor and commenced dancing...
Not all were pleased with their song, however. 'Johnny Guitar' as Jack bethought him, stood off to the side with some of his cronies chewing on a stick of hay and looking daggers at Jack.
They got into a huddle and seemed to be talking amongst themselves, then.
Emmeline was oblivious to all of this though, so pleased was she that the evening was coming along just fine to her mind...she'd news that Alice and all were safe at last, Jack seemed to be enjoying himself, and, just then she espied Ernestine, Leon and Marta come inside with some other musicians;she recognized the guitar player as one of Lev's comrades.She smiled through her song and nodded at them. It was good to see Marta again. What a treasure trove of herbal lore she was!
The song ended to applause, and whistles, and Jack found his case and put his guitar up, leaving it onstage while he and Em stepped down to take a break at last. The band shuffled members abit and then broke into: 'Grandfather's Clock' in a slow 3/4 time more suited to belly-rubbers.
'Care to dance Em? They're playing our song, after all...' Jack
grinned.
Em laughed, 'Well, I suppose in a way, it is...' she agreed as they began a waltz. 'Time does seem to play a leading part in our lives, of late...'
Jack had his arms around her at last. It felt good, and it felt just right, to him. This is how things should be, he thought...perhaps how they could have been, if he hadn't been so...impulsive, perhaps? Emmeline was not a lady to be rushed into anything, much less ambushed and abducted. Jack sighed, ah, well...'note to self', he thought...
'So, Jack...how do you like our little Pankhurst Playhouse here?' Em smiled up at him.
'It's great, Em! I'm glad you asked me to come. These boys, however,'he nodded to the stage,'have me sorely at a disadvantage, musically! It was generous of them to accept my bluster for actual playing...'
'The crowd loved it Jack!'It was true.'They hadn't heard anything quite like that before! I believe you have a new style.'
'Not so new, Em, really...'Jack admitted, thinking of Grandfather Time.
The waltz ended and new arrivals took the stage as musicians
do-si-do'd around one another and played musical chairs, rearranging themselves. Emmeline excused herself to speak to the Guevaras a moment and Jack stood to the side, watching, eagerly anticipating the next set. It took a moment before he realized he wasn't alone and Johnny Guitar and his boys had sidled up quietly alongside.
'So what's a Gypsy Davey like yourself doin' singing songs about Texas, anyway?' Johnny spat at Jack's feet in punctuation.
'Excuse me?' Jack was taken by surprise. This was the first anti-social experience he'd had here tonight and he wasn't expecting it, and certainly wasn't in the mood for it.
'You heard me, gypsy!' Johnny accented the last word as if it had special meaning for Jack. 'Why boys,' he turned to his cronies, 'I wouldn't be at'all surprised to find a knife in his sock, eh? Maybe we oughta just check here...'
'Maybe you boys oughta just skedaddle on home, quiet-like now,'Woody Marley had been keeping an eye on all the action, and owning a saloon,he could smell when a scuffle was brewing, and so had Homer and Jethro and a few others there in a wink to back up Jack. Meanwhile, Emmeline had caught on to the disturbance and she and the Guevaras came to Jack's side then as well.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Johnny spit again,'Ah, hell, this place is gettin' tired anyhow! Let's go, boys!' He eyed Emmeline hard, then turned to Jack once more. 'She's not for you, gypsy!'
And spitting again for emphasis, turned rabbit and ran.
'What on earth was all that about?' Emmeline asked Jack.'And why did he insist on calling you a gypsy?'
Jack sighed heavily, but said nothing. He did have a dirk in his sock though, having taken a page from Aleister's book. Just in case...
'Well, good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?' Woody clapped Jack on the back, 'Don't let them get to you, Jack! We're not all complete idiots here like those Bush boys...ole J.George there lost the last screw that held his brains in tight...
And say, by the way, anytime you want to play that, whatever it is, rockin and rollin music you cooked up, well bring it on over to the Leapin' Lizard, you hear? I'll book you, you bet!' Jack about half-smiled then. Woody turned to Em,'You also, Miss Emmeline, would be most welcome, if the Pankhurst Inn would let me steal you away! An' you two make a pretty duet together! Think about it!'
So saying, Woody exited, back up stageside.
'Whew!'Em exhaled. 'What a night, indeed!' She put her arm through Jack's though, just so everyone there knew that Jack had their approval overall...and turned to the stage. A mariachi band had set up with some of the 'regulars' who remained sittin' in. 'Oh, Jack, this will be fun. It's Marta's birthday today...the same as my sister Amelie's!' Em sighed. 'I sent a package and letter of course, but we've both been so busy of late...well, that's how it goes I guess...Oh,they're about to begin, here comes Woody.I love horns!'
'Do you, Em? I do too!' Jack was all ears.
'Como estas?' Woody winked and turned to the band. 'Well we have a real treat here tonight! In honor of Senora Guevara's birthday today, Febuary 8th!--' Much applause and cheering was heard then, as that good lady blushed and waved away the to-do, but was smiling thoughout...'--how old are you, honey? I'd guess maybe 35...?' Marta rolled her eyes heavenward and shook her finger at Woody.'Doggone, she's not tellin! Well, she'll just have to promise me the first dance then! Take it away, muchachos!' And as the band played Carabina 30 30, Woody swung himself from the stage and into the Senora's waiting arms...
After Jack himself had a birthday dance with Marta, he sat to rest a spell while Emmeline danced a polka with Leon nearby.
Soon though,Jack felt he wasn't alone, and clued in to find Homer and Jethro hovering hard by, heads nodding to the music, as  they handed him the jug.
'Good stuff, I'll say!' Jack declaimed. 'By the way, I thought this was supposed to be a barn-raising hoe-down! This here barn looks plenty old though, in great shape! '
Jethro and Homer exchanged knowing glances. 'That it is, Jack-Shoes! Wonderful acoustics, no?' Jack nodded. 'Ah, well, it's like this...we did have a raisin' of sorts, but, it isn't this particular barn, see...'
Jethro picked up where Homer left off,'It's...sortof back behind the barn.' He winked.
They both looked at Jack, all innocent smiles. 'Would you care to see it?' Homer asked.
'Well, since it's you two asking, don't mind if I do,' Jack consented thinking that he wouldn't go behind the barn with just anybody...he caught Em's eye as she twirled around and pointed to his new-found friends and gave her the 'just 1 minute!' sign with index finger up. Em smiled and waved him on, as she polka'd away....
                               . . . .
The night was full of stars so bright they nearly hurt your eyes. They seemed closer here in the hills and Jack craned his neck to view the river of the Milky Way and searched for Orion and the waning view of the Pleiades. The night sky in winter was the best for star-gazing in this neck of the world thought Jack as he inhaled the crisp night air that smelled of fresh starlight to him, following behind the two men ahead.
It was actually rather a ways behind the barn when he noticed they were heading to a rough building made of wood, but with tin roof and sides which sandwiched the wood in-between. He wasn't surprised when Homer unlocked the padlock on the door, and then a couple of more door locks, and gingerly hanging the lantern high inside, Jack beheld a copper still.'Ah! I knew that jack had to come from somewhere!'
'Well, sure,'said Jethro. 'But the still's just a cover.'
The still, was a cover? Lord and Lady, for what, Jack wondered. Then he smelled it.He sniffed again.
Homer noticed. 'See? I knew this ole boy had a brain behind that slick suit! What do you think you smell besides applejack there, Mr. Shoes?'
Jack followed his nose to where a partition halved the room. 'It's in there,' he nodded to the other side of the wall. 'What the heck are you boys up to?' He asked, but he grinned all the same.
Clearing his throat, Homer unlocked Door #2. 'Well, just as any old fool can make white lightning, yet it takes a bit of artistry to create a fine apple brandy...' he made a mock bow, 'My colleague here and myself have been experimenting, shall we say...' he stood aside and held the door for Jack, meeting Jethro's eyes.
Past a rather spartan room, with bits of tin and steel parts, gears and flywheels, and a tall cylinder that resembled a straight smokestack.
Again, another door.Homer unlocked Door #3. which led downstairs. Jack could smell dank earth...and something else.
Homer led them onward downstairs bearing the lamp til they reached bottom.Jack could feel cold air breezing by, and heard water drip.
Jack stepped gently into the Inner Sanctum as Jethro took the lamp. 'Holy Bat Crap!' Jack exclaimed, and the two men could no longer contain their guffaws.
'Got'er in one, Jack-Shoes!' Still giggling like two boys playing hookey, they delighted in showing Jack their 'lab'.
'Why hell, not only is it great fertilizer, lotsa nitrates!--
but this fine guano here can be leached into nothin' more than saltpeter, ain't that so?'
Good gods, these boys were making gunpowder! 'You all building bat-bombs here?' he asked.
'Oh, yeah! Bat bombs, and working on rockets, too. Check out what ole Jethro has rigged up here...' Jack could just make out what they were showing him, although he felt rather anxious with all this guano, the lantern, the 'experiments', the lantern...still, he was mighty intrigued, he had to admit...
As Jethro retrieved a cylinder about as tall as himself, Homer continued,'Why, during the Civil War the armies used to mine bat caves for guano...'
'Ah, hell,'Jethro added, 'The Chinese had rockets back in the 1200's!'
'By gods, you boys might have something here! I've worked on similar projects, myself!' Jack allowed.
'Is that so, then? Well, you'll just have to come back around sometime in daylight. We'll engineer a little demonstration for you!' Homer and Jethro were just pleased as punch to find a fellow bat-bomber.'Ahh...meanwhile, I guess we should be headin' on back to the dance.' He winked at Jack, 'I wouldn't leave Miss Emmeline alone for too long, if I were you...'
                            . . . .
Miss Emmeline had indeed been wondering where Jack could have gone. She hadn't been lonesome, certainly, but she was about danced-out now. Knowing he had gone off with Jethro and Homer could mean only one thing to her: Applejack.
'They'll turn up, nina,'Marta sat beside her, resting a spell.
'Oh, I'm not worried. Jack can take care of himself! How are you doing, Marta? Tired?' Marta shook her head. 'Well, I surely am!'Em allowed.
'You've been working too hard, too much, too long, Emmeline! Like Ernestina, you don't know when to quit!' Marta admonished her. 'So it's also your hermana's birthday today as well! My,my!'
'Yes! We were both born on the 8th day! Only she was born in Spring, and I, in fall.'
'Ah, si, I remember...what month?'
'October 8th.'Em said. Marta's eyes went wide. 'Truly, Em? Oh, you know what they say about those who are born on the 8th day of the 8th month...!'
'But, October is the 10th month, Marta!'
'Think, Em! Octo!--means, what?'
'Eight!' Of course, thought Em, the old Roman calendar.'Tell me, Marta! I've never heard a thing!'
Perhaps Emmeline would have been enlightened then, but suddenly Jack, Jethro and Homer appeared at the barn door, arms about each other and singing 'Carabina 30 30'at the top of their lungs and sharing the Little Brown Jug...
Time for this one to go home, thought Em.