"The boy stood on the burning deck,Whence all but he had fled."
"The boy stood on the burning deck,Whence all but he had fled."
Again and again the teacher made them read the lines, but each time some one would either lag behind or read faster than the others. While this was going on I was busy with my spelling lesson, as my class came after the one now hard at work with the boy "on the burning deck."
There was a click; I raised my eyes and looked toward the door; it slowly opened, then a tall man and a boy silently entered. I recognized them at once; the man was a friend of my father and the lad one of my playmates on my weekly visits home. The class on the floor was dismissed with a lecture on reading, and Gray-beard turned to call, "Next class," when he discovered the man and boy sitting on a bench near the door.
"How do you do, Wa-hon'-e-ga?" said Gray-beard, approaching the Indian with outstretched hand.
"Ka-gae'-ha!" (Friend) responded the Indian, his face brightening. Then in a low tone he called me to him and said, "I have brought your grandfather here to stay with you. Be as good to each other as you have always been, and try to learn the language of the White-chests."
The boy was a distant relative, and, following the peculiar system of kinship among the Indians, there was no impropriety in my addressing him as my grandfather, although we preferred to call each other friend.
"What does Wa-hon'-e-ga want?" asked Gray-beard, putting his hand on my shoulder.
"My friend," replied the Indian, looking with a kindly smile into the face of the teacher, "my wife wishes her son, this boy, to learn to speak the language of the Big-knives, [English] so I have come with him. We have brought him up with great care, and I think he will give you no trouble."
"Tell him," said Gray-beard, "I am very glad he has brought the boy, and we will do our best for him."
The Indian turned and with silent dignity left the room.
"Now, children," said Gray-beard, taking out the school register and looking at us, "we have a new boy here, and we must select a good name for him; what have you to suggest?"
We promptly called him Edwin M. Stanton, and he was registered by that name.
Brush and I were detailed to take Edwin to the store-room and fit him with a new suit of clothes. When he was dressed; we tied up his fine Indian costume in a neat bundle to be returned to his father.
At the supper-table Edwin and I sat together. I showed him how to bow his head when the blessing was asked, and to turn his plate. He silently followed my whispered instructions, and was very quiet while supper was going on, but during the religious exercises which followed, when we dropped on our knees, he became very anxious to know why we did so. He shuffled a good deal in his position, and after a while stood up and looked around. I pulled him down, and he demanded out loud, "What are we hiding for? This is the way we do when we are hiding in the grass."
I gave him a good dig in the ribs. "That hurts!" he cried. I whispered to him to be quiet, but before long he was fidgeting again. Just as the superintendent lowered his voice at an earnest passage in his prayer Edwin spoke out again, in a louder tone than before, "I've got a dog; he can catch rabbits!"
Gray-beard lifted his head, and the superintendent paused in his fervent appeal and looked toward us; he rapped with his knuckles on the table, and said, in a severetone, "Boys, you must be silent and listen when I pray."
I whispered to Edwin that he must keep still until we got out.
As we were going to bed that night Edwin said, "Ka-gae'-ha [Friend], let you and me sleep together; I don't want to sleep with any one else."
Lester too wanted to sleep with me; so it was arranged among us that Brush and Warren should have the double bed, and Edwin, Lester, and I were to have the wide bed for three.
After we had settled down, Edwin began talking, "When we finished eating," he said, "we turned around and the old man began to talk, then you all sang. I like to hear you sing; you've got a good voice. Then we went down on our knees, just as though we were hiding in the grass; what did we do that for? The old man talked a long time; was he telling a story? I know a great many of them; I know one about a dog. He was a man, but he was turned into a dog. I'll tell it to you."
I didn't say anything, so Edwin began:
"Far back in the earliest times there dwelt in a little village a man and his wife. They had only one child living, a son whom they loved to adoration. He was so handsome a youth that whenever he walked through the village all eyes were turned upon him with admiration. One day he asked his mother to make him a separate tent. When it was done he went into it, and there spent four days and nights in solitude, neither eating nor drinking. Then he came out and spoke to his father and mother and said, "I am going away to be gone a long time, perhaps never to return. I go to meet the White-swan, the magician who sent my brothers to the abode of shadows, and, in conflict, with magic opposing his magic, I will destroy him or die as my brothers have died." The father and mother, remembering the fate of their other children, wept and pleaded with their son not to leave them, but he was determined to go.
The young man travelled many days, when one morning he beheld a maiden sitting on the brow of a hill. He went to her and asked why she sat there all alone.Without lifting her eyes, modesty forbidding her to return his gaze, the maiden replied, "I go to marry Hin-hpe'-ah-gre." The youth was seized with fear lest the young woman might be the White-swan transformed to beguile him; but being struck by her maidenly bearing, and becoming enamoured of her beauty, he turned aside from suspicion and permitted himself to be persuaded that the fair creature before him was in reality one of his own kind. And so he spoke and said, "I am he, Hin-hpe'-ah-gre, the man whom you seek to follow." In reply the maiden said, "It makes my heart throb with delight to meet and to see with my own eyes the man I am to marry. Sit down and rest your head in my lap, and when the weariness of travel has left you, I shall follow you wherever you may lead." Joy filling the heart of the youth, and no longer troubled with misgivings, he laid his head upon the lap of the maiden and soon fell fast asleep.
"Tha! Tha!" exclaimed the woman, using a word of magic, and four times, in quick succession, she pulled the ears of theyoung man. He awoke with a start and attempted to rise, but a transformation had taken place, instead of a man standing upright, he found himself to be a four-footed beast. His body had changed, but his reason was still that of a man. He turned to see his companion, and lo! he beheld, not the beautiful maiden in whose lap he had fallen asleep, but one who looked down upon him with contempt, and whom he knew to be the White-swan. The thought that he had been outwitted came to the young man like a flash, and as swiftly his magic word returned to his mind. He tried to utter it, but he only yelped and gave a dismal howl like that of a dog. A cringing, mangy, lop-eared dog, he now followed the White-swan and—Are you asleep?"
I was almost asleep, so I did not answer him, then he became silent. When I awoke Edwin was gone; I called him but he did not answer. Brush and I went downstairs and called softly in the school-room, but the boy was not there, then we went to the large door of the hall and found it unbolted.We returned to the dormitory and went to bed, and I soon fell asleep again.
Toward morning I was awakened by strange sounds on the stairs leading up to our dormitory. I recognized the footsteps of a human being, but there were other footsteps that were like those of a four-footed beast. They approached my bed; they came near, and a voice said in Indian in a loud whisper, "Lie down, lie down!"
"Is it you, Oo-ma'-a-be?" I asked.
"Yes, I've been after my dog," he answered, getting into bed with his clothes on.
"Get up and undress; you can't sleep with your clothes on! What did you go after the dog for?"
"I wanted you to see him, and I thought we'd keep him here. He is a fine dog; he can swim too!"
"But were you not afraid? It was dark."
"I forgot all about being afraid, and I went right by that big grave too,—the one they say a ghost comes out of and chases people. I ran, though, all the way to my house. The dog was lying near the door; hewas so glad to see me he almost knocked me down."
It was nearly morning, and we went right off to sleep. Suddenly we were aroused by a furious barking. Brush, Edwin, and I sprang out of bed, and rushed for the dog that with legs spread was defending the top of the stairs.
"Boys, what have you up there?" called Gray-beard from the foot.
"Edwin went after his dog last night," answered Brush. "He wants to keep it here."
"He does, eh! Will it bite?"
"No, it won't bite; you can come up."
The afternoon session was over; Gray-beard tapped his bell; we put away our books, folded our arms, and when there was silence the teacher spoke: "Frank will remain here until he finishes correctly the sum he is working on. He has neglected his arithmetic lesson during school hours, so he will have to do the work after school."
Such punishment had not happened to me before. It had frequently come to other scholars, and I had felt sorry for them; but now the disgrace had fallen on me, and I felt it keenly.
Gray-beard led the song about "The Little Brown Church in the Wild Wood," and the whole school sang; but just then I did not care for brown churches or churches of any other color, so my voice did not mingle with that of the other pupils. Then they sang "Lord dismiss us," but as I was not dismissed I did not join in the singing of that familiar hymn.
Brush, Edwin, and the rest of my companions lingered awhile in the school-room to keep me company; but as they had work to do they could not stay long, so I was left alone to struggle with a lot of ugly fractions. My thoughts ran in every direction, off to my home, to the boys at play, and anywhere but on my task. I made a desperate effort to bring myself around to the problem that held me a prisoner by keeping a steady gaze into the deep blue sky through the open window, and then slowly the solution of that detestable sum came to my mind, and I had it. I put it on my slate, compared it with the answer left me by Gray-beard, found it correct, and my work was done.
I arose, put my books away, and stood near the teacher's desk wondering what to do next, when all of a sudden the door burst open and in rushed a little boy, crying. He was without his hat, his coat unbuttoned, and shoestrings untied. Following swiftly on the little chap came a large boy who, for some reason, was angered at the fleeing lad, and was now pursuing to punish him. The little boy ran around the stove, then towardme and got behind me. The big boy pushed on in his vengeful pursuit, and reached to grasp the object of his anger when I struck at him with my fist. The blow fell on his forehead, he stood for a moment stunned; then he sprang at me; we dealt each other blow after blow, and in our mad charges we knocked over benches and desks. How it happened I do not know, for in my excitement I could not tell where I struck him, or where he struck me, but suddenly my antagonist put his hands to his stomach, doubled over and could not breathe. I became frightened. At length, with a succession of hiccoughs, the boy recovered his breath, picked up his hat, and went out.
I straightened out the benches and desks that we had knocked over, and then sat down to cool off. When I had rested, I called to the round-headed little chap who stood trembling in the corner holding up his trousers, for in his attempts to escape he had lost the buttons to his pants, "What did you do to that boy; what did he want to hit you for?"
"I didn't do nothin'," he answered, hitching up his garments as he came toward me.
"What's your name?"
"Robert Brown."
"Where you live?"
"In your village, in that little house near Ou-ni-ja-bi's."
"That's Ne-ma-ha's house."
"Yes, that's my father."
And so it was the son of that man for whom I was all bruised up.
Ne-ma-ha was the poorest man in my father's village, and had no recognition among the prominent men of the tribe, although he had been the priest or hereditary keeper of the sacred tent of war. It was only by the performance of valorous deeds that men won honors in the tribe; but this man had no ambition to win such honors. As a hunter he was also a total failure, consequently his worldly possessions were not such as could give him distinction. Like his brother, who was struck by lightning, he deserted his sacred charge through craven superstitious fear, and, having lost hispriestly position, he had become a useless member of the tribe.
"What's your Omaha name?" I asked, as I pinned his trousers to his suspenders with sharp sticks and nails.
"They call me Hae-th'na'-ta," he replied, wiping his face with the end of his coat sleeve.
The youngster belonged to the Elk band of the tribe, hence the boy's name, the English translation of which is, horns forked, meaning the forked-horned elk. How he came by his English name I do not know.
From this time on the lad was always near me, and gradually became my devoted follower. Although at first I did not care for him much, he finally won my friendship by his faithfulness and good nature. He always assisted me as far as his strength would permit in the work assigned me about the school; thus it was that Little Bob, as he was familiarly known, became a satellite to the group to which I belonged, and so safe from the attacks of the other boys.
Brush, Edwin, Warren, Lester, and I werenow recognized by all the boys of the school as a "gang," and were spoken of as "the Middle Five." We had fallen into this close companionship without any formal arrangement, and we were regarded as the strongest group between the Big Seven and the other "gangs."
Brush was a genius as a whittler. He had only one tool, and that was a rusty jack-knife with a single broken blade, and that blade was kept sharp almost to the keenness of a razor. He would take a shapeless piece of wood, out here, out there, scrape at one place, then at another, and go through a series of twists and turns of his strong, deft hands, and at last, with a triumphant smile, hold up to view a wooden horse, buffalo, or some other animal. He had just now finished a little plough which he had been carving for some time, and we, the Middle five, sat in the shade of a tree noisily discussing the accuracy of the work.
"Brush, that's pretty good, it's just like the ploughs I've seen," I remarked as I passed the toy to Edwin.
"'Tain't good," said Edwin, after he had examined it a while. "I think the handles are too straight."
"This ought to be kind of crooked, comedown like this," put in Lester, indicating with his finger the outline of the beam as it should have been, according to his notion.
Our heads were close together looking at the plough, when a sudden consciousness as of the presence of something disagreeable stole upon us. A sound like the snapping of a twig made us all look up, and there stood Jim, a big boy, one of the worst that ever entered our school, and who had been excluded from all the "gangs" on account of his vicious, meddlesome disposition. With a contemptuous grin, he passed his eyes from one boy to the other, as though to discern the character of each one. When this unpleasant stare fell upon Warren, he bristled up, gave back a defiant look, and kept it steadily upon the unwelcome visitor. Without relaxing the mirthless smile, so characteristic of him, Jim addressed the boy, "Warren, I just come from the spring, where a lot of boys was talking. I heard Gid say that he could lick you. I told him I'd come and tell you what he said. Then he says, 'I don't care, I ain't 'fraid of him!'"
"You go and tell Gid," said Warren,springing to his feet, "I can lick two like him, and I'll show him any time he wants me to."
The mischief-maker had read well the character of Warren, and had won from him the expected reply.
We resumed our examination of the plough thinking that our interview with the tale-bearer had ended. Jim thrust his hands into his pockets, and walked uneasily about; he came to where little Bob was sitting, and, pulling out a warty hand, he pointed his finger at the boy's face, making a hissing sound between his teeth. Jim never passed by a chance to tease a smaller boy. Bob put his hands to his face and began crying. We all rose to our feet; Edwin moved forward in a threatening attitude, and said, "Jim, you let that boy alone. What you want to tease him for?"
Jim turned away, looked up into a tree, threw a stone at a bird, and then slowly sauntered off.
We sat down again to resume our talk about Brush's little plough, but our minds seemed to turn in another direction.
"I don't want Warren to fight Gideon," said Edwin; "he's a bad fellow, that Gideon is. He don't fight fair."
"But he can't back out," spoke up Lester, "and I don't want him to. I don't want the rest of the boys to think he's 'fraid."
"Warren's got to fight Gid," exclaimed Brush. "If he only kept quiet and didn't say anything when Jim told him what Gid said, it would be all right and no fight; but now everybody knows what Warren said, and he can't back out without the boys thinking he's a coward. We will see that Gid fights fair, and, if he don't, we will thrash his whole 'gang.' Warren can use his arms and fists all right; but he can't wrestle very good. Frank, you'd better show him some of those new holds."
Warren and I took several rounds in which I showed him a number of new tricks I had learned from a good wrestler. There was quite an important one of which he was ignorant; I gave him some lessons in that; then we sat down to talk over the challenge again with the rest of the boys.
"I think Warren can throw Gid righteasy," I said; "if he can remember that waist and chin trick, and the way to break it, he can down Gid every time."
"Remember that!" warned Lester, looking at his brother. "If Gid plays that waist and chin trick, you do just what Frank showed you to do to break it."
While we were talking, we heard the slapping of bare feet upon the hard ground, and soon a boy appeared before us, imitating the actions of a spirited horse. "Whoa'p! Whoa'p!" he called repeatedly, as with loud snorts the imaginary steed reared and plunged about; finally the excited animal came to a standstill. Looking at Warren, the boy said, "Gid told me to come and tell you, he will meet you down below the barn, at the east gate, right after school this afternoon. He told me to tell you again he can lick you good."
After some prancing about, the boy ran off, clapping his hips with his hands to imitate the sound of galloping hoofs.
Gideon had accepted Warren's challenge, and we had no misgivings as to the outcome, for we had every confidence in Warren'scourage and strength. What concerned us most was Jim's meddling with us and the means by which we could prevent his farther interference with our peace. He had made trouble with other "gangs" just in this way. We were still discussing this matter when the school-bell rang, and we went to the house together.
The boys who had already taken their seats looked up at us as we entered the school-room, then they turned their glances upon Gideon to see how he would behave. The two boys, Gideon and Warren, stared at each other defiantly; the rest saw there was no courage lacking in either, and they expected a lively battle between the two. Jim pretended to be studying; but we knew that he was closely watching the victims of his machinations to see how they would act. Jim never studied; he was always at the foot of his class, and boys younger than he were far in advance of him.
At last the monotonous recitations came to an end. We sang a song about "Pretty little zephyrs," then Gray-beard closed the school with the usual religious exercises.
The boys gathered in groups and walked down to the place designated for the combat. We followed slowly, as we wanted time to give all the instructions necessary to Warren. A large ring had been formed by the boys, and Gid was already in the centre with his coat off and his sleeves rolled up. Jim glanced at us as though impatient for our coming. As we neared the ring, some one said, in a voice loud enough for us to hear, "They're not coming very fast. I guess they're 'fraid!"
Brush stepped hastily forward and asked, "Who said we're afraid? Whoever said it, let him come out here and I'll show him whether we're afraid or not!"
No one answered. There were few boys in the school who would without fear accept a challenge from Brush.
A place was cleared for us, and Warren, after handing me his coat, entered the ring. The two boys approached each other and stopped within a few feet.
"Did you tell Jim you could lick me?" asked Warren, looking his opponent square in the eye.
"Yes. And I can do it too," was the bold reply.
"You can't do it!" exclaimed Warren, striking Gideon in the chest.
Then followed an exciting scene. Gideon rushed at Warren, and aimed blow after blow at his face, but our boy skilfully parried each attack. Round and round within the ring the two boys carried on their strife, neither one prevailing. For a while no serious blows were dealt, finally, in an unguarded moment Warren received a hard thrust in the left side which made him gasp; whereat Gid's gang shouted in chorus, "Choo-ie!" (An exultant exclamation in Omaha.) After this success Gideon grew reckless and struck wildly, and Warren was a little too anxious to put in a good hit before the proper moment. Gid made another effort at his antagonist's ribs, but the blow fell short; then Warren made a lunge at Gid's face; he dodged, but not quickly enough to save his ear from a bad scraping from Warren's knuckles. "Choo-ie!" cried Lester and the rest of us at this success; but Gid's next movement threw us into dismay, he hadsuddenly seized Warren around the waist while his arms were uplifted. Gid put his chin against Warren's chest and began pulling in his back. Warren tried to twist Gid's neck; but there was no use in that, Warren was slowly giving way. If he should fall the battle would be won by Gideon.
"Put your arms under his and push!" I said to Warren in an undertone. I couldn't help doing it.
Isaac, a blustering little chap and one of Gid's "gang" overheard me; stepping forward and pointing his finger at me, he angrily exclaimed, "Frank, you know that ain't fair, we don't do that way."
"You do worse than that," I retorted. "The whole four of you jumped on me in the school-room; that wasn't fair, but I licked you! Wait till Warren and Gid get through, then I'll see you!"
Warren had heard my words, and acted on them at once, and so released himself from Gideon's dangerous grasp. Then they went to sparring again. In making a thrust Warren stumbled on a round stone and fell on one knee, before he could rise Gid putin a blow that cut Warren's under lip. "Choo-ie!" exclaimed the friends of Gid. It seemed for a moment as though the victory would be against us. The struggle now became desperate. Gid was blowing hard, but there was still considerable reserve of strength in Warren. Gid repeatedly tried to grasp his antagonist's waist, but was every time cleverly brought about again to fists.
Warren's shirt front was bloody and his short hair stood straight up, giving him a frightful aspect. Gid's thrusts and parries now grew visibly weaker, but he showed no signs of yielding. He lowered his fists to give an under cut, thus leaving his face unguarded, quick as a flash Warren's right arm shot out, and with a sickening thud his fist landed square on Gid's nose. The blood spurted; the boy was stunned, and, before he could recover, he received another blow on the eye.
The fight was ended, and Gid's friends dragged him away more dead than alive.
Warren came to us smiling as widely as his swollen lip would permit.
"You did first rate, old boy!" said Brush, slapping Warren's back.
"He'll never want to fight you again," added Lester.
I helped Warren to put on his coat, then I looked around to see where Edwin was. I saw him standing before Jim, who was watching us with his wicked grin. They both spoke, but I could not hear them for the noise of the talk around me. Suddenly Edwin's long arm darted out, his fist came square on Jim's cheek with a resounding whack. Jim's face became livid, and the spot upon which the blow fell twitched convulsively. When the natural color returned to his face, Jim deliberately pulled off his coat; he was going to fight Edwin. It was an uneven match; Jim stood a head taller and was heavier than Edwin.
"What's the matter?" asked Brush, as he came up; "what are you going to do?"
"We're going to fight," replied Edwin; "I hit him because he made that trouble."
"Jim," said Brush, stepping forward and rolling up his sleeves, "I don't think it would be unfair for two of us to fight you.You are bigger than any of us, so I am going to help Edwin to thrash you. You've been making mischief for others, now it's going to come to you."
The boys gathered around the three to see another fight, but were disappointed. Jim made no further demonstration, but stood looking at the two boys; at last he muttered something to himself, and, picking up his coat, pushed his way out of the crowd.
All the boys pointed their fingers at Jim, and shouted, "Ah, coward!" Jim turned his head and looked at them sulkily, but went on, and no one cared to follow him.
The hands of the little clock on Gray-beard's desk indicated the hour of two. The midsummer's sun hurled its rays with unrelenting force to the earth, and the wind, as though consenting to the attack, withheld its refreshing breezes. All the windows of our school-room were thrown wide open, and the hum of busy insects and the occasional cry of a bird were the only sounds that relieved the monotonous stillness outside.
A class, with Warren at the head, was on the floor. The girl at the foot was reading in a tone that made it difficult to resist the drowsiness that attacked every one in the room. She came to a hard word, and, according to our custom, she spelled it. Gray-beard, who was sitting with eyes shut, pronounced it for her through a suppressed yawn. A few more words brought her to the end of the paragraph.
A long pause followed; Warren stood with book uplifted, but was gazing intently onsomething outside. The teacher, recovering from an overbalancing nod, opened his eyes slowly, and lazily called, "Warren!" The boy did not stir. Brush and I looked up from our desk, and shuffled our feet to attract his attention. "Warren!" again called Gray-beard, in a louder tone. Still there was no response.
Brush tore a fly-leaf out of his book, rolled it hastily into a ball, and threw it at Warren's head, but missed it.
Gray-beard turned in his chair, his eyes rested upon the boy, who was still looking fixedly out of the window. Then he rose, stepped softly up to Warren, seized him by the shoulders and shook him violently, saying, "Are you asleep?"
"Swarming!" rang out the last word of the sentence which Warren was making a desperate effort to utter.
Gray-beard, following the eyes of the lad, looked out of the window, "Quick, boys, to the dining-room, take anything you can make a noise with!" he exclaimed, as he sprang to the door, threw it open with a bang and disappeared.
We leaped over desks, and tumbled over each other as we rushed with impetuous haste to the dining-room. Brush caught up an enormous tin pan, Edwin a milk pail, and I the school triangle; the rest of the boys took tin pans and plates, or whatever they could lay their hands on, and we all ran out into the yard. Warren was already following the humming black cloud, ringing the school-bell with all his might. We caught up with him, and began beating on the tin pans with our knuckles, keeping up a constant yelling like a lot of savages. The noise we made was enough to drive the bees and ourselves insane. It was bedlam let loose. On we went through the barnyard, up the hill, and into the woods, closely following the flying black mass. Three boys carrying small mirrors kept throwing flashes of light into the swarm.
The bees made a straight line for a tall oak, hovered over the end of a high branch, and then settled on it. We gathered around the tree, and continued our unearthly noise until Gray-beard, with a box and a saw on his shoulder, and a coil of rope on hisarm, came up puffing and all in a perspiration.
"Have they settled?" he asked, shading his eyes and looking up into the tree.
"Yes, there they are," answered Brush, pointing to the writhing black mass on the branch.
"Who can climb?" said Gray-beard, looking around among the boys. No one answered. After a while Edwin spoke up, "Lester climb tree like wild-cat."
Lester turned and looked daggers at him. Brush and I nudged each other and giggled. Edwin was playing a joke on Lester.
"Come," said Gray-beard, "there's no time to be lost." And he proceeded to tie the end of the rope around the waist of Lester, who had not recovered from his astonishment and was given no time to put in a disclaimer to the title of climber.
Gray-beard lifted the lad up as high as he could, then the boy began to climb. He went up slowly but surely, dragging the rope after him. Edwin shouted words of encouragement. "That's good, go ahead!"he would exclaim as the climber made now and again six inches or so.
"Wait till I get down, I show you!" Lester called back. Then Edwin turned to us and grinned.
The limb upon which the bees had settled was at last reached; the boy pulled up the hand-saw that was tied to the other end of the rope. He looked down at us with mischief in his face, then straddled the branch with his face toward the trunk of the tree and began to saw. Gray-beard, seeing this, called up in great excitement, "Stop! stop! Lester, stop! Turn the other way." The boy, having had his fun, turned, and, moving as near to the bees as he dared, began sawing slowly until the branch hung down, then he severed it. It did not fall because before he began to saw he had tied one end of the rope near to the bees, and had fastened the other part near to the place where he was sitting, so that he was able gradually to lower the bees to the ground.
We did not know that anything had happened to Lester until he came down, then we saw that he was stung on theeyebrow and his face was swollen. Brush moistened a bit of earth and smeared it around the injured part to prevent further swelling, but it did no good.
Gray-beard put the box over the bees and began pounding the top, "Look under there, Frank, and see if they are going up," he said; "if the queen goes, they will all go."
I crouched to the ground and looked into the box; there was great activity and noise. "I think they are going up," I said.
Suddenly the pounding on the box ceased; I heard an outcry and a groan; I looked up, and there was Gray-beard rolling on the ground. He was badly stung in the face. Brush went to his assistance and painted his wounds with mud. I went to the box and pounded as Gray-beard had done.
"Look under, Warren, and see what they are doing," I said.
Warren put his head to the ground and looked, "I guess that old king went up; they're all gone," he said; "I can't see them."
Having recaptured our bees, we securely fastened the box so that the wind couldnot blow it over; we gathered up our pans, milk pails, and bells and formed a homeward procession. Brush headed it, leading Gray-beard, whose eyes were now both closed and bandaged with his white handkerchief, and in this way we reached the Mission building.
The ladies and the school girls were waiting on the porch for our return, and as we approached the gate a number called out, "How many of you are stung?"
"Two!" cried the boys; "teacher and Lester."
When we were passing the girls on the porch to go to our quarters, pretty little black-eyed Rosalie, my sweetheart, came up to me and asked, "Frank, was you stung?"
"No; but the bees wouldn't go in the box for anybody but me," I answered proudly.
"But I wish you was stung like Lester," she said; "his girl is telling the rest of them all about it, and they think he's right smart because he got stung."
Some of the big girls, overhearing this confidence, put their aprons up to their faces to hide their laughter. The teachers neverknew that there were lovers among the pupils and that little romances were going on right under their eyes.
Gray-beard could not see us to bed that night, so the superintendent took his place.
"Good-night, boys, keep quiet and go to sleep," he said as he went downstairs after he had heard us say our prayer.
"Warren, you've earned ten cents to-day," said Brush; "I think Lester earned something too. I don't know how much it's going to be, but I'll go and see the superintendent about it to-morrow."
"Say, Brush, I think that bee that stung Lester was a drone; that's why his face is all swelled up," I said.
"Oh! go 'long!" he answered. "Whoever heard of a drone having a sting. They have no sting, and they can't sting. It's only the working bees that have a sting."
"But those drones are big fellows, two times as big as the working bees. The superintendent showed me one when he was moving a swarm to a new box in the bee house."
"They haven't any sting, though. Thereare three kinds of bees: there's the queen, then there's the drone, and there's the working bees. When the drones get too many, and eat too much, the working bees, they get mad and they sting them to death."
"I think that work bee thought Lester was drone," remarked Edwin.
"Wait till I get well," threatened Lester; "I'll show you drone!"
"What is the queen?" asked Warren. "And what does it do?"
"Why a queen is a female king," explained Brush, who was authority on a great many things. "She doesn't do anything but sit on a big throne and tell people what to do. If they don't mind her, she makes her soldiers cut their heads off. It's the same with bees: they have a queen,—I don't think she sits on a throne, but she tells the rest of the bees what to do; and if they don't mind her, she gets up and goes; then all the rest have to follow her, because they won't know what to do unless she tells them. That's what that old queen did to-day."
"Why don't the 'Mericans have a king?"asked Edwin. "They got a President, but I don't think he's big like a king."
"They had one," said Brush; "but they didn't like him, because he put a terrible big tax on tea. The 'Mericans are awfully fond of tea, and when they saw they'd have to pay the trader and the king, too, for their tea, they got mad; and one night, when everybody was asleep, they painted up like wild Indians, and they got into a boat and paddled out to the tea ship and climbed in. They hollered and yelled like everything, and scared everybody; then they spilted the tea into the ocean."
"What did the old king do?" asked Lester.
"Well, he was hopping mad, and he lifted his great big sceptre, and he went up to the man that brought the news, and knocked him over. Then he walked up and down talking loud, and when he got tired he went to his throne and sat down hard."
"What is a sceptre?" I asked, interrupting the story.
"Why, it's something like a war club; when the king tells people to do things, heshakes it at them, so they will get scared and mind What he says."
"I wouldn't mind him," said Warren; "I'd make a big sceptre for myself and shake it at him."
"Well," continued Brush, "the old king sat still for a long time; then he said to his soldiers, you go and fight those 'Mericans. And they did fight, and had the Rev'lution. That war lasted eight years, and the king's soldiers got licked. Then the 'Mericans made General George Washington their President because he couldn't tell a lie."
The next morning Brush went to the superintendent's study, and soon came out calling for Warren and Lester. Edwin and I waited under the walnut-tree in front of the school. When the three came to us, they showed us a bright silver dime and an equally bright quarter of a dollar. According to our notions, Warren and his brother were rich, the former having earned the reward offered for the discovery and report of the swarming of the bees, and the latter earning the quarter by climbing the tree on which the swarm had settled.
Brush announced to us that Lester and Warren had been detailed to go after the mail. The post-office was in the trader's store three miles away from the school, and boys were always very glad to be sent on this errand.
In the afternoon, when school was out, Brush went up to the superintendent's room to borrow the spy-glass, while Edwin and I went in search of Lester and Warren, who had slipped away from us. We could not find them, so we returned to the school-room, where we met Brush, and we all went up to the belfry.
The Indians were at work in their fields, and we each took the glass in turn to see if we could recognize our friends. Suddenly Edwin said, "Something's going to happen; look at those girls."
Two girls were going through the yard arm in arm, now and again glancing over their shoulders toward the boys' play-ground. They reached the farthest corner of the yard, then turned and looked along the dividing fence. Two boys sauntered towards them on the other side, following a narrow path.
"There's Lester and Warren," said Brush; "they're up to something, keep your eyes upon them."
We did. The four met at the corner, sat down and appeared to be talking to each other. When they had been there for some time, the boys handed through the palings to each of the girls a brown parcel.
"I see now why those boys wanted to go after the mail this morning," said Brush.
The girls arose and walked toward the house, opening their parcels, and we saw through the spy-glass that they were eating candy. The boys slowly returned, one following the other along the narrow path. Edwin thrust his fingers into his mouth and whistled, imitating the cry of the robin, which was the signal we five had adopted. The boys stopped suddenly as the sound reached them, and looked all around. Seeing no one, they went on. Again Edwin whistled; then I touched the bell very lightly with the clapper. The boys looked up to the belfry; but we kept out of sight.
At breakfast the next morning the two girls appeared at the table with their hairneatly done up in bright-colored ribbons. Edwin leaned over toward Lester and said in a whisper, "Your girl's got a right pretty ribbon!"
"Yours hasn't got any!" retorted Lester.
"Oh! oh! oh! Aunt, that hurts. Oh!"
"Keep still, now, keep still! You have a big stick in your toe, and I must take it out. If you keep pulling like that, I might run the point of this awl into your foot."
I lay flat on my back on the ground with my sore foot in the lap of this good woman whom I called Aunt, while she probed the wound to withdraw a splinter. After considerable wincing on my part, the cause of my agony was removed and held to view. The splinter was long and very large; the relief was great, and already I felt as though I could walk without limping. The kind woman took from her work-bag a bit of root, chewed it, and put it on my sore toe; then she bandaged the foot with a piece of white cloth which also came from the handy bag.
My Aunt laid the splinter on a piece ofwood and cut it into fine bits, just as I had seen men cut tobacco for smoking. "Now," said she, as she scattered the bits in every direction, "that thing cannot do any more harm. But what is this?" she asked, holding the old bandage up between the tips of her thumb and index finger of her right hand, and in her left the bit of pork that had been tied on my toe.
"Why, Aunt," I replied, "that thing in your right hand is the old bandage, and that in your left is the pig-fat that was put on my toe."
"Why did they put pig-fat on your poor sore toe; who put it on? Bah! It's nasty!" she exclaimed, as she threw it away as far as she could.
"The white woman who takes care of the children at the school put it on to draw the splinter out."
"To draw the splinter out!" she repeated in a tone of contempt. Then she tossed up her fine head, gave shouts of laughter, and said between the paroxysms; "Oh! this is funny! This is funny! Your White-chests might as well hitch a bit of pig-fat to theirwagon and expect it to draw a load up the hill! And how long has this pig-fat been tied on your foot?"
"About four days."
"Without bathing the foot and renewing the bandages?"
"Yes."
"If this white woman takes as much care of the other children as she has of you,—I'm sorry for them. No children of mine should be placed under her care,—if I had any."
My Aunt gathered her awl, knife, and other little things into her work-bag; I looked all about to see if any boys were watching, then I put my arms around her dear neck and kissed her.
"Are you going to see my mother to-day?" When she answered yes, I said, "Tell her to come and see me,—very soon."
"I will; but don't keep her running over here all the time," and she started to go. She had not gone very far when she turned and shouted to me, "Wash your foot to-morrow morning and turn the bandage over. You will be well in a day or two."
A boy passing by cried out, "Bell has rung!" and I limped into the school-room to attend the afternoon session.
When school was out, Lester suggested that we go on the hill to sit and talk. Turning to me, he asked if I could walk as far as that; I assured him that I could, so I hobbled along with the boys up the hill. We found a beautiful grassy spot, and three of us—Lester, Warren, and I—lay down and looked up into the deep blue sky. Brush sat near by, carving a horse's head out of a piece of oak. Clouds lazily floated far above.
"Say, Lester," I called, "you take that one that looks like a buffalo; Warren, you take that one that is shaped like a bear; and I will take this one that's like a man smoking a pipe. Now, let's rub them out!"
So, fixing our eyes upon the clouds, we began rubbing the palms of our hands together.
"Mine is getting smaller, right away, now!" cried Warren.
"Mine too!" echoed Lester.
Brush gave us a look of disgust, andsaid, "Boys, I think you are the biggest fools I ever saw,—rubbing out clouds, the idea!"
But we rubbed away, and paid no attention to the contemptuous glances our friend gave us. My hands began to come down lower and lower; and then I felt myself rising from the ground, higher and higher I went, just like a big bird, and suddenly landed on a heavy black cloud. I looked down; there were the boys still rubbing away, and Brush still carving. I could see the winding river far below and the birds flitting about. I wondered what it all meant. I felt the cloud moving away with me; the boys were growing smaller and smaller, and I noticed that I was passing over the Indian village. Where is the cloud going with me, and will it ever stop? I heard a sound that seemed familiar to me,—is it a bell? Could there be bells in the cloud? I asked myself.
"Wake up, you fools! Supper-bell has rung! Rubbing out clouds, were you!" said Brush, in derisive tones.
Warren sat up, blinking his eyes, and asked, "Where are we?"
That night, when the boys had settled down in their beds and Gray-beard had gone downstairs, Edwin asked, "Boys, where've you been this afternoon? You came to supper late; Gray-beard looked hard at you."
"We've been up the hill," I answered; "I told the boys to hurry along and leave me; but they wouldn't."
"Who was that Indian woman talking to you before dinner-time?"
"That was my aunt; she saw me when she was going by, and she made me sit down and she looked at my foot. She took a great big splinter out of my toe. My! it hurt."
"You're going to get well now. Why didn't you put that splinter in some buffalo hair, then 't would've turned into a baby."
"Nonsense!" said Brush, "who ever heard of such a thing."
"There's a story like that," replied Edwin.
"Tell that story! tell that story!" cried the boys in chorus.
"But you don't listen; you go to sleep, or you ask fool questions and stop me."
"We won't stop you; we're going to lie awake."
"All right. I'll tell you that story. Say 'ong!' pretty soon, then I'll know you're awake."
We all snuggled down, then in chorus cried, "Ong!" and Edwin began:
"'Way long time ago, four brothers lived on earth. Good hunters, they shoot straight, kill deer, buffalo, elk, and all kinds of animals. They got plenty of meat and skins. One night, the youngest man came home very lame; his foot was all swelled up; he had to use his bow for a cane, and he was groaning, groaning all the time. He lay down and was real sick, one, two, three days. The other men, they went hunting. When they were gone, the youngest man got up, took his knife, cut open his toe, and took out a big thorn, a great big—"
Whack! whack! whack! Quick as a flash the boys put their feet against the foot-board and pulled the bedclothes taut so that the rest of the blows fell harmless upon us. We had been surprised by Gray-beard. Edwin, in his earnestness, and in his beliefthat a foreign language can be better understood when spoken loudly, had been shouting his story in a voice that reached Gray-beard and woke him up. After warning us against loud talking, the old man went downstairs as stealthily as he had come.
"Well, boys," said Brush, "that came like a cyclone, didn't it?"
We all agreed that it did.
"Frank, did he hurt your foot?" asked Warren.
"No, the boys kept the quilt up, so he couldn't hit me."
"What did I say last?" asked Edwin.
"You said," I reminded him, "that he cut open his toe and took out a big thorn."
"Oh, yes," he continued; "he took out a big thorn, a great big thorn. He wanted to show it to his brothers, so he pulled out some buffalo hair from his robe and put the thorn inside and laid it away, way back in the middle of the tent. Then he went after some water to wash his foot. When he was coming back, he heard something crying likeeverything; not like raccoon, not like any kind of bird or animal, something different. He stood still and listened; it sounded like coming from inside the tent! So he went slow, easy, and looked in the tent; there was something moving and crying loud. Then the young man went inside the tent, and he saw a baby, a little girl baby, and no thorn. He knew that thorn had turned into a girl baby, crying like everything. The young man was very glad; he danced on his one well foot; he took up the girl baby in his big arms and moved like a tree when the wind blows, and he sang soft, and the girl baby shut her eyes and went to sleep, e-a-s-y,—just like you!"
"No! We ain't asleep. Go on."
"Well, those big brothers came home, and they were all very glad. They took the girl baby all round. Then the oldest brother, he said, 'She is going to be our sister. I wish she would grow right up and run round the tent.' Then he lifted her four times, and the girl baby grew quick, and ran round the tent, talking. Then another brother, he said, 'I wish my sister would grow up and getbig enough to go after water.' Then he lifted the little girl four times, and she got big enough to go after water. Then the next one, he said, 'I wish my sister would grow big enough to make moccasins and cook and make lots of things.' Then he lifted her four times, and the girl grew right up and knew how to make lots of things. Then the youngest man, he said, 'I wish my sister grown up woman now.' Then he lifted her four times, and she was a big woman right away. So in one night that thorn girl baby grew up, and she was the first woman."
"Why!" said Brush, "that's just like the Bible story of Adam and Eve. You remember it says, that Adam was the first man God made, and He put him in a big garden full of flowers and trees. He told him he could eat everything there except the berries of only one tree, and He showed him that tree. God made Adam go to sleep, and then He cut open his side and took out one rib, and out of that bone He made a woman, and He named her Eve."
"Did He whittle that rib bone just likeyou whittle a piece of wood and make men, and horses, and dogs, and other things?" asked Lester.
"Yes, I think He did. Then in that garden there were elephants, and lions, and tigers, and camels, and lots of other animals; but they didn't eat each other up. God gave Adam the camels to ride, so he wouldn't get tired. Camels ride easy, easier than a horse. You know a horse goes trot! trot! trot! and makes your stomach ache; but a camel goes just as e-a-s-y, like rocking, like that boat, you know, when we went on the river and the wind blew, and the boat went up and down. Why, you know, the difference is just like this: you ride in a big wagon and it shakes you like everything; you ride in the superintendent's carriage, and it rides just as easy as anything."
"How do you know?" broke in Warren. "You never rode a camel, and you never rode in the superintendent's carriage."
"Yes, I have too. I've ridden in the superintendent's carriage that time I went to interpret for him down to the big village. I rode with him in his carriage."
"You boys said you wouldn't stop my story," protested Edwin, yawning.
"Say, Brush," I asked, "when that bone was whittled, and it became Eve, what did she do?"
"Well, one morning she went down to the creek to swim, and, just as she was going to step into the water by a big willow-tree, she saw a snake in the tree with a man's head on, and the snake—"
"It wasn't a snake," interrupted Warren; "it was the serpent, the Sunday-school teacher said so."
"Well, it's the same thing,—the snake and the serpent is the same thing."
"No, they're not. The serpent is the kind that's poisonous, like the rattle-snake; and the snake is like those that don't poison, like the garter-snake and the bull-snake."
"Brush, go on with your story," I broke in impatiently. "Don't mind Warren; he doesn't know anything!"
"No, he doesn't. Well, the serpent was Satan, and Sa—"
"How can Satan be a serpent and asnake?" asked Lester. "First you said it was a snake; then you said it was a serpent; now you say it was Satan!"
"You boys are bothering my story all the time. I'm going to stop."
"Go on, Brush," I urged; "don't mind those boys; what do they know? They're all way back in the Second Reader, and you are in the Fifth, and I am in the Third."
"All right, I'll go on; I don't care what they say. Well, the Devil spoke to Eve and said—"
"Your snake has turned into a Devil now," sneered Edwin. "Boys, why don't you let me go on with my story; Brush doesn't know how to tell a story."
"Yes, I do too. Boys, you don't know anything; you don't know that the Devil and Satan and the serpent and the snake are the same thing; they're all the same. If you would listen when the teacher talks to you in the school-room, and when the minister speaks to us in the chapel, you would learn something. All you got to do is to listen, but you don't. When you are forced to sit still, you go to sleep; and whenyou are awake you tickle those that are asleep with straws, or stick pins in them. How are you going to learn anything when you do like that? You must listen; that's what I'm doing. I want to know all about these things so I can be a preacher when I get big. I'm going to wear a long black coat, and a vest that buttons up to the throat, and I'm going to wear a white collar, and a pair of boots that squeaks and reaches to my knees, and—"
"Edwin, go on with your story, I want to hear that," called Warren.
"He's asleep," said I.
"Only last Sunday," resumed Brush, "the minister told us that the Devil went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may de—de— What's the rest of that word, Frank?"
"Vour."
"Yes, 'vour, devour. The Devil went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may devour."
"Bully for you, Brush!" exclaimed Lester. "That's good; you didn't cough big though, like the preacher does."
"Don't make fun of the old man, boys, he is here to help us; he wants to do us good."
"Yes," answered Warren; "I guess he wanted to do you good last week, when he switched your back for you!"
"I think I deserved it."
"No, you didn't. You didn't do anything; you only threw Phil Sheridan down and made his nose bleed."
"I shouldn't have done it. I saw a good chance and I did it, and the old man was looking at me. Now, boys, what did the preacher mean when he said the Devil went around like a roaring lion?"
"I s'pose," said Edwin, "he means the Devil is like some of our big medicine men who can turn themselves into deer and elk, and any kind of animal, and the Devil can change himself into a hungry, howling lion and—"
"And into a Satan," suggested Lester.
"And into a serpent," added Warren.
"Into a snake," I chimed in.
"And put a man's head on!" ejaculated Edwin.
"And talk to women when they go swimming!" said Lester, with a laugh.
"There's no use talking to you boys. I'm going to sleep," and Brush turned over.
One by one, sleep overcame these boys. Brush made a peculiar noise as he breathed, and Lester puffed away like a steamboat.
A Whippoorwill sang in one of the cottonwood-trees near the corner of the house. Fainter and fainter grew the sound, and so the day passed into yesterday, and the morrow began to dawn.