It is a hot day, in rare truth, when
boys devote themselves principally to conversation, and this day was
that hot.
Their elders should beware such days. Peril hovers near when the
fierceness of weather forces inaction and boys in groups are quiet.
The more closely volcanoes, Western rivers, nitroglycerin, and boys
are pent, the deadlier is their action at the point of outbreak. Thus,
parents and guardians should look for outrages of the most singular
violence and of the most peculiar nature during the confining weather of
February and August.
The thing which befell upon this broiling afternoon began to brew and
stew peacefully enough. All was innocence and languor; no one could have
foretold the eruption.
They were upon their great theme: "When I get to be a man!" Being human,
though boys, they considered their present estate too commonplace to be
dwelt upon. So, when the old men gather, they say: "When I was a boy!"
It really is the land of nowadays that we never discover.
"When I'm a man," said Sam Williams, "I'm goin' to hire me a couple of
coloured waiters to swing me in a hammock and keep pourin' ice-water on
me all day out o' those waterin'-cans they sprinkle flowers from. I'll
hire you for one of 'em, Herman."
"No; you ain' goin' to," said Herman promptly. "You ain' no flowuh.
But nev' min' nat, anyway. Ain' nobody goin' haih me whens _I_'m a man.
Goin' be my own boss. _I_'m go' be a rai'road man!"
"You mean like a superintendent, or sumpthing like that, and sell
tickets?" asked Penrod.
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