Tom Sawyer and the Ghosts of Summer, page 21
The next morning, he caught the bus to town, visited Bauer's Hardware and selected the best boy's bicycle they had on display—a red and white Western Flyer. Then he went across the store to the fishing supplies and put his hand on the Langley Streamlite casting reel he'd been admiring for months. To go with it, he picked out a flexible steel rod. He proudly paid for all three items—a total of $66.17—by endorsing his check and handing it over. While he slid the change into his old billfold, the clerk wrapped the rod and reel so they could be carried. Matt proudly wheeled the bike out of the store. After checking the tire pressure, he mounted and pedaled off. It was the smoothest machine he'd ever ridden.
An hour later, he stopped at the top of Rob's street to catch his breath. What would Rob think of his purchases? They were certainly more usable than the coins, which would just be put away with his collection to be looked at only now and then.
He pushed off and coasted down the hill, riding the brake until he wheeled into the small, bare yard in front of Rob's stucco house.
He didn't have to knock. Rob was in the back yard chopping wood and came around to see him.
"Wow! Your folks got you a new bike!"
"Nope. Bought it with my own money. I sold the gold coins."
"No kidding? You didn't keep any of them? Now you don't have any souvenirs of our trip."
"We've both got a set of those snapshots."
"Oh, that's right," Rob said. He leaned the axe against the front steps.
"Here, take it for a spin."
"You sure? I don't want to scratch it up or nothin'."
"You won't hurt it."
"It's got a basket and a light and everything." Rob climbed on and pumped away up the long, gradual hill. He turned at the top and came flying back down past his house to the end of the short street and then pedaled back and braked to a stop.
"Whew!" He was breathing hard. "That's really nice."
"Glad you like it." Matt took the bike and balanced the long package across the handlebars.
"Whatcha got wrapped up there?"
"A new rod and reel."
"The one you been looking at?"
"Yup." Matt tore off the brown paper, opened the small, tube-shaped cardboard box. "Here's the reel." He slipped it out of the velvet drawstring bag.
"Wow! That's a beauty."
"And here's the rod to go with it." He pulled the long steel rod out of its cloth-covered tube, fitted the reel to it and screwed it up tight.
Rob took it and whipped the limber tip up and down. "Great feel."
"I was hoping you'd like it, 'cause all this is yours."
"What?" He looked blank.
"I bought this stuff for you. I already got a bike. And I don't need a rod and reel."
Rob seemed confused and embarrassed. "I can't take this. It's too expensive."
"Thank Tom Sawyer. He gave me the gold."
"Really. I…I thank you a lot. But I can't accept these things."
"Look, I'm not taking them back to the store," Matt said. "You told me you really needed a bike so you didn't have to borrow your little brother's. If your mother says anything about it, tell her I sold some coins from my collection and this is an early Christmas present so you can get to work and school. Okay?"
Rob nodded without speaking, his lips compressed. He held out his hand and they shook.
"You goin' downtown to shine shoes this afternoon?"
"Yeah. I was gonna catch the bus about three. But now I can ride this."
"Why don't you come by the house and we'll ride to town together. Maybe we'll run into Thatcher down there someplace."
Rob smiled. "I think Thatcher's long gone."
"Yeah. If he was actually Judge Thatcher, I hope he got the gold back for Tom and Huck."
"We had a lot to do with that," Rob said.
"Yup. And it was great. See you this afternoon." Matt waved and started toward the path in the woods that led up to his street.
It had been a great summer—even better than he'd hoped for. He hadn't been able to stop time, but he'd stretched it and had experienced the Great Adventure. Time had been warped and reversed for his sake. Or, maybe it wasn't solely for his sake. He'd discovered that doing things for others could be the greatest adventure of all.
He took a deep breath and broke into a jog along the uphill path toward his house, and toward his future.
EPILOGUE
About 90% of the events in the 1950 segment of this book are gleaned from my own past, even though I rearranged some of the episodes, and placed them all in one summer.
I used the device of typhoid to take Matt back in time because typhoid was still enough of a threat in 1950 Missouri that inoculations were available for 25 cents every summer at the high school gym. I still recall how rotten I felt for two days after one of those shots, which apparently gave me a mild case of typhoid, and caused strange dreams.
I've taken a small sailboat on the Mississippi River three different times, and even camped out on Jackson's Island (the real Glasscox Island). An illustrated magazine article resulted from each trip. The most recent article was titled, "Seeking Huckleberry Finn", and appeared in the April, 2005 issue of SAIL magazine.
The real boy who was the model for Rob Linehart—Robert Bungart—died of a ruptured appendix in 1951 at age 15. I was a pallbearer at his funeral, and forty-seven years later dedicated a novel, SWIFT THUNDER, to his memory.
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Tim Champlin, Tom Sawyer and the Ghosts of Summer
