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A QUICK-RUNNING SQUASH
Alicia Aspinwall
Charles owned a garden. One morning his father
called him and pointing to four stakes driven in
the ground which certainly had not been there the
night before, said:
“A11 the land within those four stakes is yours,
your very own”
Charles was delighted, and thanking his dear
father, ran off to get his little cart, for he wished
at once to build a stone wall about his property.
He did not fear it would run away, but he knew
that land-owners always walled in their possessions.
“After the wall is built,” said his father, “you
may plant in your garden anything you like, and
James will give you what you ask for”
In two days the wall was built, and a good one
it was too, being strong and even.
The next day James set out some plants for him,
and gave the boy some seeds which he planted him-
self, James telling him how to do it.
He then got his watering-pot and gently sprinkled
the newly planted ground with warm water. Run-
ning across the lawn, he looked down the road to
see if his father had not yet come from the village.
His father was nowhere to be seen, but coming
down the road was a most remarkable looking
man. He was tall and thin and had bright red
hair which had evidently not been cut for a very
long time. He wore a blue coat, green
trousers, red hat, and on his hands,
which were large, two very dirty,
ragged, white kid gloves. This wonder-
ful man came up to Charles and asked
for a drink of water, which he, being
a polite boy, at once brought. The
man thanked him, and then said:
“What have you been doing this
morning, little man?”
Charles told him about his new
garden, and the man listened with much interest.
“Little boy” said he, ” there is one seed that
you have not got.”
“And what is that?”
“The seed of the quick-running squash.”
Charles’s face fell.
“I don’t believe James has that, and I don’t know
where to get one,” he faltered.
“Now, as it happens,” said the man, “I have
one of those very seeds in my pocket. It is not,
however, that of the common, everyday quick-running
squash. This one came from India, and is mar-
vellous for its quick-running qualities. You have
been kind to me, little boy, and I will give it to
you,” and with a peculiar smile, this strange man
produced from his pocket, instead of the ordinary
squash seed, an odd, round, red seed which he gave
to Charles, who thanked him heartily, and ran to
plant it at once. Having done so, he went back
to ask when the quick-running squash would begin to
grow. But the man had disappeared, and, al-
though Charles looked up and down the dusty road,
he could see nothing of him.
As he stood there, he heard behind him a little
rustling noise, and turning, saw coming toward him
a green vine. He had, of course, seen vines before,
but never, never had he seen such a queer one as
this. It was running swiftly toward him, and on
the very front was a round yellow ball, about as
big as an orange! Charles, looking back to see
where it came from, found that it started in the
corner of his garden. And what had he planted in
that corner? Why, to be sure, the seed of the quick-
running squash, which the strange man had just given
him.
“Well, well, well!” he shouted, in great excitement,
“what an awfully quick-running squash it is. I
suppose that little yellow thing in front is the squash-
itself. But indeed it must not run away from me,
I must stop it.” And he started swiftly down the
street after it.
But, alas, no boy could run as fast as that squash,
and Charles saw far ahead the bright yellow ball,
now grown to be about the size of an ordinary
squash, running and capering merrily over stones big
and little, never turning out for anything, but bobbing
up and down, up and down, and waving its long
green vine like a tail behind it. The boy ran swiftly
on. “It shall not get away,” he panted. “It be-
longs to me.”
But that the squash did not seem to realize at
all. He did not feel that he belonged to anybody,
and he did feel that he was a quick-running squash,
and so on he scampered.
Suddenly he came to a very large rock, and stopped
for a moment to take breath, and in that moment
Charles caught up with him, and simply sat down
on him,
“Now, squash,” said he, slapping him on the side,
“your journey is ended.”
The words were scarcely spoken when he suddenly
felt himself lifted up in the air, and bumpity, bump,
over the stone flew the squash, carrying with him
his very much astonished little master! The squash
had been growing all the time, and was now about
three times as big as an ordinary one. Charles,
who had a pony of his own, knew how to ride, but
never had he ridden anything so extraordinary as
this. On they flew, roll, waddle, bump, bumpf
roll, waddle, bang> the boy digging his knees hard
into the sides of the squash to avoid being thrown.
He had a dreadfully hard time. Mount the next
quick-running squash you meet, and you will see
for yourself how it is.
To Charles’s great delight, he now saw his father
coming toward him, riding his big white horse Nero,
who was very much frightened when he saw the boy
on such a strange yellow steed. But Nero soon
calmed down at his master’s voice, and turning,
rode along beside the big squash, although he had
to go at full speed to do so. ‘^Gallopty-gallop’*
went Nero and *’bumpity-bump ** went the squash.
Papa lost his hat (Charles had parted with his
long before).
“What are you doing, my son, and what, what
is it you are riding?” asked his father.
“A quick-running squash, Papa,” gasped Charles,
who, although bruised, refused to give up the squash,
and was still pluckily keeping his seat. “Stop it,
oh, do stop it. Papa”
His father knew that this could be no ordinary
squash, and saw that it evidently did not intend
to stop*
“I will try to turn it and make it go back,”
he said; so riding Nero nearer and nearer the squash,
he forced it up against a stone wall. But, instead
of going back, this extraordinary squash jumped
with scarcely a moment’s hesitation over the high
wall, and went bobbing along into the rough field
beyond. But alas, before them was a broad lake,
and as he could not swim, back he was forced to
turn. Over the wall and back again over the same
road and toward the garden whence he came, Charles
still on his back and Charles’s papa galloping at
full speed behind.
The squash, however, must have had a good heart,
for when he reached the house again, he of his own
accord turned in at the gate and ran up to the
wall of Charles’s garden. There he stopped, for he
was now so big that he could not climb walls, and
indeed, had he been able to get in, he would have
filled the little garden to overflowing, for he was
really enormous. Charles’s father had actually to
get a ladder for the poor little fellow to climb down,
and he was so tired that he had to be carried to
the house. But the squash was tired, too, dread-
fully tired. I suppose it is a very bad thing for a
growing squash to take much exercise. This cer-
tainly was a growing squash, and there is also no
doubt that he had taken a great deal of exercise
that morning. Be that as it may, when the family
were at luncheon, they were alarmed by hearing a
violent explosion near the house. Rushing out to
see what could have happened, they found that the
marvellous quick-running squash had burst! It lay
spread all over the lawn in a thousand pieces.
The family, and all the neighbors families for miles
around, had squash pie for a week.
