John Fitzgerald GB 06 Return of by Return of the Great Brain

to Mr. Larson before going back to school?”
    “You said you wanted to talk to him about the train robbery/’ I said.
    “Right,” Tom said. “Right what?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” said Frankie, who had been listening. “Right what?”
    “I asked Mr. Larson if the railroad paid any reward money for train robbers,” Tom said, “He told me there was a standing reward of five hundred dollars for the arrest and conviction of train robbers. Sheriff Baker will get the reward because the train robbery took place in the county under his jurisdiction. And Sheriff Baker isn’t the kind of a man who goes back on his word.”
    “So,” I said, “that is why you made him promise you all the reward money if you solved the train robbery and murder.”
    “Right,” Tom-said with a grin so wide I thought it would split his face-
    “What are you going to do with all that money?” I asked-
    “Put it in the bank where it will draw interest,” Tom said as he rubbed the palms of his hands together.
    And, oh, how his money-loving heart must have been
    x singing.
     
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CHAPTER FIVE
Tom the Magician
    IT WAS JUST A FEW DAYS after Tom had received
    the five-hundred dollar reward that the Chautauqua came to town. Once a year people like Mayor Whitlock, Bishop Aden, Reverend Holcomb, Papa, Mamma, and Mrs. Vinson believed the citizens of Adenville needed a little cultural entertain-ment. The money to pay for the Chautauqua was raised by selling tickets before it arrived. It was a way of guaranteeing there would be enough money to pay for the cultural entertainment. I always sort of figured this selling of tickets was almost like blackmail because anybody who refused to buy a ticket would be considered uncultured and an ignoramus. About the only thing I enjoyed about a Chautauqua was
     
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    watching them put up the tent at the campground. I guess that made me uncultured. But let me tell you what a Chautauqua was like in those days and see if you don’t agree with me. They always had a fellow who played a fiddle but not like anybody in town played one. They called it classical music, but all it ever sounded like to me was a fellow practicing the scales. And there was always a man or woman who recited poetry the likes of which had never been heard in Adenville. I doubt if three people in the audience understood what the poems were about. And they had singers. But did they sing good old songs like “My Old Kentucky Home” or “Sweet Adeline”? Heck, no. Papa said they sang arias from operas, which was enough to convince me that I’d never spend any money going to an opera. The singing was bad enough, but they made it worse by always singing in a foreign language. Then they would have a man or woman who read passages from classical literature-That was the silli-est thing of all. It didn’t make sense” unless you knew the whole story and the only time that happened was when a man read some passages from A Christmas Carol by Dickens. But he spoiled it by reading some passage from a Greek play written hundreds of years ago next. Sometimes they would act out a scene from one of Shakespeare’s plays. And sometimes a fellow would play solos on a cornet. I must admit there was one time they had Swiss bell ringers which I enjoyed. They had a lot of different sounding bells on a table, and by ringing them they could play a tune.
    The Chautauqua we had this year was the worst yet tor my money. But rather than let anybody know they didn’t understand or appreciate the classical stuff, everybody applauded. There was one woman who must have scared every dog in town. I mentioned her to Tom as we sat on the corral
     
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    fence with Frankie the next morning after doing our chores-
    “My ears are still ringing from that big fat woman screaming at the Chautauqua last night,” I said.
    “She was a soprano,” Tom said. “That is the highest pitch a human voice can have.”
    “Why anybody would pay money to hear a woman like that