TICKTOCK
and
JIM

By Keith Robertson
With Illustrations by Wesley Dennis

THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY
Philadelphia · Toronto

Copyright, 1948, by The John C. Winston Company
Copyright in Great Britain and in The British Dominions and Possessions
Copyright in the Republic of the Philippines

First Printing December, 1947
Second Printing June, 1948
Third Printing December, 1949

Made in the United States of America

To Christina,
Who at two is somewhat confused about horses and thinks they say “Moo.”

Contents

PAGE

Chapter One The Trade 1

Chapter Two The Reception 24

Chapter Three The First Victory 38

Chapter Four New Allies 49

Chapter Five The Pony Express 69

Chapter Six The Saddle 82

Chapter Seven Horace 100

Chapter Eight Exile 115

Chapter Nine The Lost Horse 135

Chapter Ten Ticktock Disappears 147

Chapter Eleven The Conspirators 165

Chapter Twelve Jean’s Ride 182

Chapter Thirteen The Mystery Is Solved 196

Chapter Fourteen The Fire 208

Chapter Fifteen A Long Night 222

Chapter Sixteen The Convalescence 233

Ticktock and Jim

Chapter One
The Trade

“Someone has to stay home to give Colonel Flesher that Jersey calf,” said Mr. Meadows. “Since we are the only men around the place, it looks as if you’re elected.”

“O.K. I’ll stay. I don’t mind,” Jim answered cheerfully, if not too accurately. He did mind very much.

“I’m sure everything will be safe with you,” continued Mr. Meadows as he climbed in the car.

“Oh, I’ll take care of things,” said Jim nonchalantly.

He watched the car drive off. His father, mother and sister Jean were all going into town for the afternoon while he stayed at home alone. He felt rather proud that his father had called him a man, but that didn’t make up for the disappointment of not going with them. He went over to sit on the edge of the front porch, where he forlornly kicked his heels against the lattice work. It was a beautiful spring day with a warm sun shining, but Jim was in no mood to appreciate the wonders of nature. His small brown face looked very mournful as he sat there feeling sorry for himself. Something exciting was certain to happen in town, and he would miss it. He wondered how long the family had been gone now. Jumping up, he ran inside the house and returned with a large gold watch.

“Quarter past one,” he said aloud. Doubtfully, he held the watch to his ear.

“Ticktock, ticktock,” came the answer.

It seemed impossible that it was only a quarter past one; it would be almost four hours before the family returned. Although it was a form of treason to doubt that watch, Jim peered through the kitchen door to compare it with the kitchen clock. The watch was right. It promised to be a long dismal afternoon.

To pass away the time he polished the gold case with his big red bandanna. The watch was his most prized possession; his father had given it to him on his twelfth birthday, almost eight months before. He wore it only on special occasions or when he was feeling sad, like today. Carefully he unscrewed the back and looked at the shiny works. The balance wheel was going back and forth quietly and faithfully. Jim polished the inside of the back cover and reread the inscription for the hundredth time. “To James Meadows from Elizabeth, June 7, 1884.” Over sixty years ago his grandmother had given that watch to his grandfather and it was still bright and shiny, and kept perfect time.

“I wish it would run a little faster this afternoon though,” said Jim, as he placed the watch in his overall watch pocket.

Feeling a tiny bit more cheerful, he walked toward the orchard fence. A gentle breeze was blowing toward him, bringing the delicate scent of apple blossoms. He leaned on the fence, inhaling deeply and gazing at the riot of blossoms in the orchard. When it is spring in southern Missouri, one must have a very deep sorrow