"Third Reader," called Gray-beard, and some ten or twelve boys and girls marched to the place of recitation, and put their toes on a straight crack in the floor. The reading lesson was some verses on "Summer," prettily illustrated with a picture of a boy and a dog, the lad racing over a meadow, and the dog frisking at his side.
"Now, Robert, begin!" said Gray-beard to little Bob, who in some unaccountable way had reached the head of the class.
The boy put his index finger on the first word, and slid it along as he read, in a low, sing-song tone, "Come, come, come, the Summer now is here."
"Read that over again," said Gray-beard. "Read it loud, as though you were out of doors at play."
Bob read again, but in the same manner, and had hardly gone through half the line when the sharp crack of Gray-beard's ruler on the desk made us all jump.
"That's not the way to read it!" he exclaimed with some impatience; and he repeated the lines to show how they should be given. "Now, begin again."
Bob began, but in the same lifeless tone, never taking his finger from the words.
"Next!" interrupted Gray-beard. "The same verse; read as though you were wide awake and calling to your playmates, not as if you were going to sleep."
The boy addressed straightened himself up and shouted out:
"Come, come, come, the Summer now is here!" going through the verse without a break, then he glanced proudly toward the girls, only to see them giggling behind their books.
"Silence!" cried Gray-beard, striking his desk. "That was well done!"
The door slowly opened, and the farmer entered, hat in hand, and addressed Gray-beard, "I want to transfer a sow with a litter of pigs from one pen to another, and I've come to ask if you could let me have the help of some of the boys?"
When permission had been granted, anumber of willing hands went up, and as many faces turned with eager expectancy to the farmer, who looked around, and then said, "Brush, Frank, Lester, and Warren will do."
We followed the farmer to the pen, and at once jumped in, each one seizing a little pig; but, before we could turn, the sow made such an onslaught upon us that we dropped the pigs and scrambled over the fence; but Lester, who was last, left a piece of his trousers in the jaws of the angry beast. After this exciting experience, at which the farmer could hardly stop laughing, we held a consultation with him, and agreed upon a plan which we immediately proceeded to carry out.
We threatened the sow with our hats; she retreated into a corner with her young; then Brush slyly went up, and, reaching his hand through the fence, caught one of the little pigs by the legs and held it fast; it squealed lustily, and the infuriated mother made savage attacks upon the fence. Then Lester, Warren, the farmer, and I sprang into the pen, caught the frightened little pigs, andran with them to the new pen. Brush released his prisoner, and the cry of the transported little ones brought the mother to the pen, where she was secured.
While the farmer was fastening the gate, we boys walked around the hog-yard; Warren, who was ahead, discovered a weak place in the fence, and beckoned excitedly for us to hasten.
There were times when the pupils became very tired of their books, and longed to take a run over the prairies or through the woods. When this longing came upon them, they sought for ways and means by which to have the school closed, and secure a holiday. I remember once, it was in the fall, the members of the Big Seven loosened the joints of the long stove-pipe during recess. When school opened in the afternoon, and their class was called, they marched to the place of recitation, keeping step and jarring the room so that the sections of the pipe fell rattling to the floor, filling the room with smoke, and covering floor and desks with soot. As it would take some time for the pipe to cool and be put up again, and theroom cleaned, the school was dismissed, giving us a half holiday.
Now, in the weakness of the hog fence, there was a chance for an afternoon out of school, and Warren saw it. He told us his plan, and the rest of us fell in with the scheme. After dinner we took some corn and scattered it outside of the fence at the weak place; then we went to the school-room, where Gray-beard, when he came to ring the bell to summon the scholars, found us hard at work on our arithmetic lessons.
The geography class was up, and Brush was describing the rivers of South America, when the door was thrown open by the superintendent, who exclaimed, "Hurry, boys! The pigs are out and going to the Indians' cornfield!"
We did not wait to be ordered a second time; but, snatching our hats from the pegs in the hall, we ran down the hill with wild shouts and cries. All the afternoon we chased pigs, and had a glorious time, while the girls had to stay in school and be banged at by Gray-beard.
It was almost supper-time when we finallydrove the pigs into the yard and repaired the weak places in the fence. Flushed with our exciting chase we entered the dining-room when the bell rang, and took our places at the table for the evening meal; then the superintendent, looking at us with a kindly smile, thanked us for the good service we had rendered that afternoon!
The few hours' release from the tasks of the school-room had brought about a general good feeling among the boys; so, when we had partaken of the simple fare, we gathered on our play-ground and joined in a number of lively games in the long twilight. So interested and excited had we become in our play that we took no notice of the fading light and the lateness of the hour until the first bell for bed sounded.
Our school was an industrial one, and in the assignment to the larger boys and girls of various duties in and about the building, I was given the care of the hydraulic ram that pumped the water from the spring to the house. In the morning I started it, and in the evening shut it off. The ram was located in a wooded ravine a quarter of amile from the school, and I usually stopped it while it was yet light, for, like many a foolish boy, I was afraid to go away from the house alone in the dark. Now in the excitement of play I had forgotten all about the ram until I heard the bell calling us to prepare for bed, nor had I realized till then that it was dark, and that the sky in the west was black with storm clouds through which the lightning zigzagged, and that there was an incessant rumble of thunder. The myriad of fireflies that filled the air with flashes of red light only made the darkness seem yet darker.
Stricken all at once with fear, I called loudly for Brush and the rest of the boys, but none of them responded. I was afraid to go to the ram alone in the dark, but if I should let it pump all night the water would overflow the kitchen, and that would mean a disgraceful punishment for me. I went from boy to boy, trying to secure a companion; but not one of them dared to go with me, they were all afraid of ghosts. Marbles could not tempt them, nor could a much coveted gun-lock, which for the firsttime I was willing to part with, induce any boy to go. The time for the last call for bed was fast approaching, and I dared not wait longer trying to secure an escort, so I started on a run, frightened nearly out of my wits at everything I saw, but on I went as if racing for life.
I reached the place and stood over the square pit in which the ram was placed, and was about to go down the ladder into it, when I saw something move rapidly at the bottom. I nearly fell over backwards as I jumped away. I ran toward the house, but the thought of the overflow in the kitchen, and the punishment that was sure to follow, came back to my mind. For a moment I struggled between a known and an unknown fate, and decided to meet the latter. With set teeth and clenched fists I jumped into the pit, backed into the nearest corner, yelled at the top of my voice, while I struck right and left with my fists and kicked out with my feet. Let it be ghost or beast, I was determined to fight it and die game. I kept on striking, kicking, and yelling, but nothing put itself in my way. I dropped to theground, panting, but kept an eye on the white thing which had also moved into a corner. I made a feint at charging upon it and it fled-to another corner; then I put my head close to the ground to discover the shape of my enemy, when, to my joy, I discerned the outline of a rabbit. With a long-drawn breath of relief I stood upright, turned off the ram, made a rush upon the rabbit and caught it. Hastily rolling it up in my jacket, I climbed the ladder, ran up the hill as though a dozen ghosts were after me, and reached my bed just in time to say "Amen" to the evening prayer.
When Gray-beard had gone down, I whispered to Lester and Edwin, "I've caught a white rabbit!"
"Let's scare the boys," said Lester.
So we dropped the little creature on the floor, and it ran around the room as hard as it could go, while one of us cried out in a loud whisper "Ghost!" Then every boy in the room pulled the bedclothes over his head, and did not dare to uncover again.
We kept the rabbit for a pet, and made a box for it. We liked to watch it eat, and itdid not suffer for want of food so long as we had it. One of the "gangs" among the small boys came to us one day while we were feeding our pet, and offered us some clay marbles for it. We looked upon their offer with contempt, for we all knew how to make clay marbles ourselves, and had all we wanted.
"I'll tell you what we'll do though," said Brush to the would-be purchasers. "If you will give each one of us seventeen cakes, you can take the rabbit."
The boys retired and held a private consultation, then came back, and the leader said, "We'll take the rabbit."
These boys must have coveted the rabbit very much, for there was not a boy in the school who did not love cake, and the one slice of brown ginger-cake we were each given for Sunday noon lunch was the only delicacy we tasted. This cake became a currency among the boys, and all contracts for cakes were faithfully kept. I know of only one instance where a boy failed to keep his bargain, and he was so persecuted by the other scholars that he wasobliged to pay his debt in order to live in peace.
Brush thought he had put the price of the rabbit so high that it would not be accepted; but as we could not back out of our agreement, we were obliged to part with our ghost rabbit for eighty-five cakes.
As the number of the "gang" purchasing the rabbit was the same as ours, for seventeen Sundays these five boys went without their cakes, while each one of us enjoyed a double share.
He stood on the third board of the fence from the ground, and leaned with his elbows on the top one, now and again kicking with his moccasined foot a loose panel. How long he had been standing there rattling that loose board no one knew, but in time one of the boys noticed him, and suddenly he became an object of the greatest interest among the boys of all sizes at the school. Boys who were playing down by the river, up by the spring, and over by the saw mill came running to see the stranger; and how the word reached them was as much of a mystery as the appearance of the little figure on the fence.
Every one was eager to pelt him with a question, and get as close to him as possible. He answered the questions in monosyllables; but he showed objection to any near approach, by freeing his bare arms from his little buffalo robe and pointing a wooden pop-gun at the eye of the boy who wasinclined to be too familiar. We kept at him until we found out that his name was Thin'-je-zhin-ga, which, translated into the language of the Missionaries, signified Little Tail.[1]
He had come over from the village to see the school, and was as much interested in us as we were in him. All at once something attracted his attention; his black eyes sparkled, out came one arm from under his robe, and he pointed with a very dirty little finger and said, "Give me one of those!"
The coveted object was a brass button on the jacket of one of the small students. When Little Tail was asked what he wanted to do with it, he said, "Tie it to my scalp-lock." This sounded very funny to us, and we all laughed. The little chap retreated into his robe, covered his head, and looked out at us with one eye.
The bell rang for dinner; and therefollowed a general scramble to appear promptly at the table, and no thought was given to the queer little visitor. Being the last boy to enter the house, I turned to look back at him, and there he stood perched upon the fence, staring after us as though he wondered why he was so suddenly deserted.
When we came out from dinner, he was still on the fence, but he was busy. He had an ear of roasted corn and was shelling the kernels; when he had nearly a handful he tipped his head back, poured the grains into his mouth, and ate them with relish. After he had stripped half of the cob, he seemed to be satisfied, and the remainder disappeared in the recesses of his robe. As he finished his corn dinner, one of the school-boys said to him, "Little Tail, how would you like to stay and live with us here?"
"I would like it," he promptly replied.
"Will you stay?"
"Yes."
It was soon reported to the superintendent that a new pupil had come. When the afternoon session opened and the pupils were seated, Little Tail was given a seat atone of the desks, but to our delight he slid down and sat on the floor. The teacher rapped the top of his desk with a ruler and cried, "Silence!" and order was restored.
"What is the name of the new boy?" he asked.
"Thin'-je-zhin-ga," answered one of the boys.
Gray-beard tried to repeat the name, but only set the whole school laughing. While this was going on, Little Tail reached down to his belt and drew out a roll of milkweed fibre. It was his ammunition. He tore off enough to make a bullet, chewed it, and, bringing the breach of the pop-gun to his mouth, inserted the ball, twisting the gun with his hands while he pressed the wad in with his teeth, making many motions with his head. By pounding the butt of the rammer on the floor, he drove the ball to the firing point; then raising the gun he began forcing the ball with vigorous thrusts, aiming it at a mischievous boy who sat opposite making faces at him. Bang! went the weapon; the bullet, instead of hitting the object aimed at, struck Gray-beard in the face,and made him throw his head back. We covered our faces to suppress the giggles that bubbled up at this mishap. The wounded man looked sharply at the young artillerist, who, seeing the mischief he had done, very slyly thrust his gun into his robe, and, keeping an eye on his victim, sat perfectly still.
The teacher looked serious, then we became scared. After a moment his face relaxed, and he said in a pleasant tone, "We must have the name of the new boy on the Register, but we cannot have any name that is unpronounceable. We shall have to give him an English name. Will you suggest one?"
A number of hands went up and as many historic names were offered and rejected. Finally it was determined to call him William T. Sherman and that name was entered upon the Register.
After school a few boys were detailed to wash and dress the new arrival; so, with arms full of clothing, towels, and other bathing appliances, the lad was taken up to the boys' dormitory. The first thing tobe done was to cut his long hair. A towel was put around his neck, and soon the shears were singing a tune about his ears. He seemed to enjoy it, and laughed at the jokes made by the boys; but when by some chance he caught sight of his scalp-lock lying on the floor like a little black snake, he put his fists into his eyes and fell to sobbing as though his heart would break.
"Pshaw!" said little Isaac, rubbing his closely cropped head, "mine was longer than yours when it was cut off, but I didn't cry!"
"Mine too!" exclaimed Abraham, picking up the braided look and putting it where his had been; at which the rest of the boys laughed.
When the bath was over, William T. Sherman was dressed. He was delighted with his brand-new clothes, particularly with the long row of brass buttons that adorned the front of the jacket. When it came to the shoes, his grief for the lost scalp-lock was clean forgotten, and he strutted about to show the boys that his shining black shoes sang to his satisfaction.
William T. Sherman was quick to learn, and by the time winter was over he was speaking the peculiar English used by the boys of the school; he said, "fool bird," for quail; "first time," for long ago, and other Indian expressions turned into English. He was fond of arithmetic, and spent much time ciphering on his slate; he would write down the figure 1, 2, or 3, add to it a string of aughts, and then try to read them off. Grammar he abhorred, and in the spelling class, he held a permanent place at the foot. In out door sports he excelled; he could beat any boy of his size in leaping and running, and we had yet to learn other things in which he was expert.
One day, during the great June rise, all the boys were at the river watching the huge drift logs floating down the muddy Missouri.
"Say, boys!" exclaimed Ulysses S. Grant, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets; "I bet one hundred dollars that river is strong. I wouldn't like to swim in it; I'm sure the eddies would pull me under."
Gideon, who was always boasting of whathis father could do, shouted, "My father could swim clear acrost and back again; he ain't 'fraid of eddies. He—"
"What's that?" cried a number of boys, startled by a heavy splash in the water. We all watched, and two brown feet came to the surface, wiggled, and disappeared. After a moment a round black head slowly arose. "Ha! Ha! I'm not 'fraid eddy!" shouted William T. Sherman, for it was he. A few vigorous strokes brought him to shore again.
"Take off your shirts and pants, boys, let's swim," he said.
We did so, and timidly splashed about the shallow edges of the water. A large tree was drifting down near the middle of the river. William ran up along the bank for quite a distance, and then plunged into the water. It was a beautiful sight to watch him as he threw his arms up and down, moving swiftly toward the tree; he reached it, dived under it, and came up on the other side; then he scrambled on the trunk and shouted for us to come, but none of us dared to go. After a moment he stood up on thetree, flourished an imaginary whip, and cried, "Git up, there!" with a succession of swear words,—genuine swear words. He was imitating the Agency teamster, and did not know what he was saying. He had heard the servant of the Government urge on his horses by such terms, and he was merely repeating them. Those of us who had been at the Mission a long time, and had all the Shorter Catechism in our little heads, and were orthodox by compulsion, if not by conviction, were horrified to hear those dreadful words uttered by a pupil of our school; for we knew some severe punishment awaited the little sinner should there be a traitor among us to make it known to Gray-beard.
Before we had fairly recovered from our shock at hearing this swearing, we were startled by a cry, "Job is drowning!" Not one of us moved, we were so frightened; but, quick as a flash, William T. Sherman sprang from his imaginary wagon, swam swiftly to the boy, caught him by the hair as he was going down for the last time, and brought him to the surface. "Kick! Kick!" he shouted; "make your arms go! Don'tstop!" And after a hard struggle the two boys landed.
Job had swallowed considerable water, and become very sick. We didn't know what to do for him; but after we had rubbed and pommelled him, and held him by the heels head downward, he felt better; then we took him to the Mission and put him to bed.
On our way back Sherman spoke very little, but those of us who had been frightened into helplessness had much to say as to what we did or might have done to save Job.
At supper Gray-beard as usual counted the boys, and found one missing, "Where's Job?" he asked.
"He's got the th'tomick ache," said Daniel, his mouth full and his spoon raised half way with a new supply.
School went on the next morning as though nothing had happened. The teachers had not heard of the drowning and the rescue; but the girls had learned all about it and threw admiring glances at Sherman: to them he had become a hero, and each of the different gangs among the boys now wanted this hero as a member.
The recitations for the afternoon session were over, and the bell was tapped as a signal to put away our books and slates, and struck again to call us to order. When all arms were folded, there followed an ominous silence. Gray-beard slowly looked around the school-room, as though to read every face turned up to him, then he spoke:
"I have been told that some of the boys in this school are in the habit of swearing; that is one of the things you are forbidden to do. It is wicked to swear, and any boy that I find has been doing so I shall punish very severely. I want you to remember this. After the closing exercises William T. Sherman will come to my room; I have something to say to him."
All eyes on the boys' side turned toward William as we chanted the Lord's prayer; then Gray-beard made his usual supplication, during which the big girls twisted their necks to look at their hero.
The exit from the school-room was quite orderly, but as soon as the groups of boys passed into the hall, they set up a shouting and singing, and made off to their differentresorts for play. We, the Middle Five, were the last to go; and, as had been hastily arranged between us, I went to Gray-beard and asked some trivial question in order to give time for Brush to go and advise Sherman as to what answers to make if he was asked as to his being guilty of swearing.
"When he asks you if you been swearing, say, 'No, sir, I don't know what swear is,'" said Brush to Sherman.
"All right."
"Then tell him you been saying what you heard Agency man say to horses; but you don't know what those words mean, maybe they're swear words, you don't know."
Gray-beard went up to his room, followed by William T. Sherman, who for the first time entered that apartment. Boys who committed serious offences were disciplined in that place. I was taken there for fighting Andrew Johnson; Brush took his punishment there when he nearly cut Jonathan's ear off with a wooden sword. Most of us had had peculiar experiences in that room.
William T. Sherman had come to us direct from a tent; our bare school-roomand play-room were all that he had seen of the furnishings of a civilized dwelling, so when he was suddenly ushered into Gray-beard's room he was quite dazzled by the bright draperies, pictures, and the polished furniture. He stood with hands in his pockets, mouth and eyes wide-open staring at the things, although twice requested by his host to sit down.
William timidly took the chair assigned him. It rocked backwards, and up went his feet; he clutched wildly at the arms, and the chair rocked forward; he got his footing, then sat perfectly still, fearing the chair would fall over with him.
Gray-beard took a seat facing the boy, and began to question him, "I was told that you had been swearing; is it true?"
Bewilderment at new sights, and the flight of the rocking-chair had put Brush's promptings out of Sherman's head, and in his confusion he answered, "Yes, sir—ma'am."
"It is wicked to swear, and you must be taught to know that it is. Now say what I say," and Gray-beard repeated the thirdcommandment, until Sherman could say it without assistance, and then bade him to keep on until told to stop.
Poor William sat in the treacherous rocking-chair repeating this commandment, while Gray-beard wrote at his desk. William might as well have sat there imitating the cry of some animal or bird, for his mind was not dwelling upon the words he was uttering, but following his eyes as they moved from one strange object to another,—the pictures, the gilt frames, the sea shells, the clock on the mantelpiece, then something hanging near the window absorbed his attention, and his tongue and lips ceased to move as he drew with his finger on his knee the figure 1, adding to it a number of aughts. Gray-beard noted the pause, and said, "Go on, William, don't stop." After some little prompting, the boy resumed, but his finger kept moving, making the figure 1 and a string of aughts after it.
When Gray-beard and William T. Sherman left the school-room, Brush and I and the rest of the five went toward the spring and sat under the large elm. Brush laydown on the grass and read a book he had borrowed from the superintendent, while the rest of us talked.
"I'd like to see that boy who told on William T. Sherman; I'd give him a licking," said Warren.
"I'd kick him hard," added Edwin.
"I bet it's that tell-tale Edson; he ought to be thumped!" I suggested.
While we were talking, William came and sat down with us. Every now and then a quivering sigh would escape him, although he tried not to show that he had been crying. Little Bob, believing as we did that William had been whipped, and, desiring to express sympathy, said, "Say, did it hurt?" William did not answer; nobody ever answered Bob.
"What did Gray-beard do to you?" I asked, turning to William.
"He made me sit down and say a commandment one hundred times."
"Which one was it? Say it to us."
"I don't want to say it; I said it enough." After a pause he asked, "What is swear?"
"When you call God names, that's swear," said Warren.
"I don't do that. I know God, it's the same Omahas call Wa-kon-da; but I don't know what means lord."
"It's a man just like big chief," explained Lester; "he has plenty of horses and lots of money. When he tells anybody to do anything, he got to do it; that's a lord."
"Is Gray-beard lord?"
"No, Gray-beard isn't lord."
"Say, boys, a one and six aughts is one million, ain't it?"
"Yes," we answered in chorus.
"Gray-beard is lord. He's got one million dollars. I saw it on a book hanging by his window; it had a name, I can't say it, then Bank and Cap'tal, and then a one and six aughts,—that's a million. He's got one million dollars!"
Brush threw his book down, raised himself on his elbow and looked at us with a smile; then he said, "I know that book William T. Sherman saw, it's the book Gray-beard counts the days by, and it's got on it what they call advertisement.That bank wants people to know it has one million dollars capital to go by; I learned that in my arithmetic. Gray-beard isn't a lord; he's a missionary,—the same kind that goes to Africa and Greenland's icy mountains."
FOOTNOTE:[1]He belonged to a band in the Omaha tribe known as Mon'-thin-ka-ga-hae, people of the underground world; in other words, animals that burrowed and lived in the earth; such had small tails, and the name Little Tail referred to this peculiarity.
[1]He belonged to a band in the Omaha tribe known as Mon'-thin-ka-ga-hae, people of the underground world; in other words, animals that burrowed and lived in the earth; such had small tails, and the name Little Tail referred to this peculiarity.
[1]He belonged to a band in the Omaha tribe known as Mon'-thin-ka-ga-hae, people of the underground world; in other words, animals that burrowed and lived in the earth; such had small tails, and the name Little Tail referred to this peculiarity.
Vacation had come, and the Indians were about to start on their annual summer buffalo hunt. Some of the scholars were to accompany their parents, and others, after a brief home visit, were to return to the school and continue their studies while the tribe was away.
In the three villages there was great hurry and bustle in every family. Pack saddles were brought out of the caches where they had lain through the winter. The task of mending them fell to the older people of the household, while the younger folk busied themselves in retrimming their more ornate trappings. Goods not necessary for the journey were stored away, and the dwellings were made ready for the long absence.
At last there remained but one day before the time set for the departure of the tribe. In the afternoon I bade my parents good-by, and reluctantly returned to the school.Quite a number of the boys and girls had already come back, among them Lester and Warren. Brush had not left the school, so on my arrival I received from the three boys the usual greetings we accorded each other when one returned after an absence. We four paced the long front porch, arm in arm, for a while, and then went and sat down in the shade of a tree.
"Where is Edwin?" asked Brush; "isn't he coming back?"
"No," I replied; "his mother wanted him to; but his father didn't want to leave him behind, so he's going on the hunt."
"He'll have lots of fun," said Warren; "I wish I could go!"
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Brush borrowed the superintendent's spy-glass, and we went to a high point whence we could watch the movements of the people in the village nearest the school. We took turns in looking through the glass. Already the head of the great caravan had gone behind the first hill, but my family had not yet started. We looked toward Edwin's house, and saw that thepeople were just moving. It was a wonderful sight to us, the long procession on the winding trail, like a great serpent of varied and brilliant colors. At last I saw my father mount a horse and move forward, the rest of the family followed him, and I watched them until they finally disappeared beyond the green hills. It was nearly noon when the end of the line went out of sight.
While the movements were going on in the village, we could hear the neighing of horses, the barking of dogs, and the hum of voices, but now there was a stillness in the deserted village which brought upon us a sense of loneliness that was hard to overcome. We slowly returned to the Mission and ate our noonday meal without speaking. There seemed to be a general depression among the remaining pupils at the school. A silence pervaded all the surroundings which made each boy wish to retire from the other and to be alone.
At breakfast, the next morning, there was the same sense of stillness; even the superintendent and the teachers at their tableseemed to be homesick, and they passed the dishes to each other in silence. The reading of the Scriptures and the prayer of the superintendent was in a tone that added to the gloominess which had taken possession of our simple little souls.
As we were slowly marching out of the dining-room, when the worship was over, the superintendent stopped Brush and said to him:
"I want you to go after the mail this morning; go on horse-back so as to get back soon. I have some work for you to do this afternoon. Take Dolly, and use the large saddle; the other one needs mending."
"Let's go down to the spring," said Lester to Warren and me.
So while Brush went to the barn to saddle up, we three went to the spring and sat under an elm that stood near by.
"Say, boys, I 'm going to the hunt!" said Lester, startling us with the sudden announcement; "I heard that two families down at the Wood-eaters' village can't get away for two days yet, and I'm going down there so I can go with them. The Omahasalways wait on the Wa-tae (Elkhorn River), for those that are last."
"If you're going, I'm going too," spoke up Warren; "I don't want to stay here."
"If you two go, I'm going!" I exclaimed.
"All right, let's all go then," said Lester, rising. "We must hurry up; some one might see us!"
We followed a narrow path that led through a ravine just beyond the spring. We were in the greatest excitement; every little sound aroused within us the fear of detection, and we frequently sought for a hiding place, while we carefully avoided all well-beaten paths. Silently we plodded our way through the bushes until we came to a hill where there were no trees, then we ran as fast as our legs could carry us for another wooded place.
We stopped a moment when passing to take a look at the village. Silence prevailed. Not a living thing was astir. Three whirlwinds chased each other along the winding paths between the houses, making funnel-shaped dust clouds as they sped on.
"The ghosts have entered the village,"said Lester, in our own language, and in a melancholy tone; "they always do that as soon as the living leave their houses!"
Entering the ravine for which we were making, we continued our journey. The nettle weeds caused us much suffering, for we were barefooted, and wore short trousers. We came to an opening; before us lay the road to the Agency; we looked cautiously around, then started to cross it to go into another ravine that headed toward the big village, when the snorting of a horse was heard with startling distinctness.
"Quick! quick! get down!" exclaimed Lester in a loud whisper, as he dropped into the gully of the old abandoned wagon-road.
Warren and I followed hastily, pulling the tall grass over us. We heard the footsteps of the horse come nearer and nearer to our hiding place. It stopped and reached its head down, and began to nibble the grass under which I lay concealed. I looked up through a slight opening, and, behold! there on the horse sat Brush with one leg thrown over the pommel of the saddle, busily reading a book. I could see the boy's eyes andhis lips moving as he read, and at times it seemed as though his eyes were looking right into mine. I was in great suspense while the horse stood there, but at length Brush picked up the rains and urged Dolly on. As soon as he disappeared at the bend of the road, we rose and darted across and ran down to the ravine.
We entered the big village of sod houses through which we had to pass. Here, too, we felt the sense of desolation that pervaded even the hills around. Somewhere from the midst of these peculiar dwellings came the doleful howl of a stray dog, the only sound that broke the stillness of the place. What sensations my companions experienced upon hearing the melancholy wail of that deserted beast I do not know; but, like the rapid advance of a fire over the prairie, a thrill that made the very roots of my hair creep vibrated through my body. Involuntarily we paused to listen; the long-drawn moan came to a close, and the ghostly echoes carried on the sound as though to mock the lost creature.
"Let's run!" exclaimed Lester, in afrightened tone; "let's get away from here!"
And so we sped on until, all out of breath, we were far beyond the limits of the village.
The shadows of the hills and the trees were beginning to grow long as we reached the foot of the bluffs where lay the village of the Wood-eaters. We followed a narrow but well-beaten path, wending our way among the tall trees. Suddenly a dog, with tail rigid and erect, and hair bristling, came barking at us with savage fury.
"'Shta-du-ba! 'Shta-du-ba!" called Lester, as he came near. "It is I, don't you know me?"
The dog, on hearing his name from a familiar voice, relaxed his aggressive appearance and assumed one of joyous welcome. He jumped upon us, licked our hands, wagged his whole body as well as his tail, and preceded us with leaps and barks of delight.
We came to a clear space, and there before us against the deep shadows of the woods stood a solitary sod house, the smoke lazily ascending to the sky from the top of the dome-shaped roof, making a picture of simplecontentment. In the projecting doorway stood a man looking intently in our direction. The serious expression of his face changed to one of pleasure and amusement as he descried the three school-boys. When we were near enough for him to fully recognize us, his smile burst into a mirthful laugh in which we could not help joining, though to us our business was full of seriousness.
"Woo-hoo!" he mildly exclaimed, "what important thing is it that has brought you here at this time, when all are about going away? Your mother left yesterday," he said, addressing my companions, then turning to me remarked, "Your father must have gone to-day."
"We ran away from school because we want to go on the hunt," explained Lester. "I know my mother has gone; but my uncle has not left yet, so we are going to him."
"He is still here, we all go to-morrow morning early; but you should have stayed at the House of Teaching; you would get more good there than by going on the hunt. You know the way to Me-chah'-pe's house, just follow that path."
We trudged along to Me-chah'-pe's house. The family had gathered about an outside fire, and were eating their supper in the dusk. Upon our coming into the light of the fire we were recognized; the mother and grown daughter greeted us with exclamations of surprise and sympathy; while the father and the two sons glanced at each other with expressions of amusement. A place was assigned us in the circle, and soon we were busily engaged with the simple fare placed before us by the good and hospitable mother.
"Why do parents when they go away leave their children at the House of Teaching, I wonder?" commented the woman, as she apportioned the food for us. "Some people show no signs of affection for their sons and daughters until they sicken and die; then they tear their hair and rend the air with their loud wails. It is well enough while the parents are at home that they should place the young ones in the care of the White-chests; but, when going on a long journey like this, they should take the children with them."
By the side of every Indian house stands a raised platform made of poles, elevated upon posts, some seven or eight feet high, planted firmly in the ground. This platform is used for drying corn and squash, at the time of harvesting; but, through the summer when the people are at home, the young men and boys take possession of it, for sleeping in the open air. As weariness began to be felt, one by one, the family arose, and, without formality, each sought his place of rest. We school-boys and the sons of Me-chah'-pe repaired to the platform, climbing the "stairs" made of a single log, with notches cut in it for steps.
This was the first night I had ever spent out of doors. The novel experience, and the excitements of the day, filled my mind with strange speculations, and I lay awake long after my companions had gone to sleep. Now and then, I heard the chatter of birds and the whirring of their wings, as they flew by far above me, and I wondered if they could see in the darkness. The roar of the river filled the still air, and the crash of a tree uprooted by the current sent its echoesfar and wide; then the sounds about me grew to faint murmurings, until I was conscious of them no more.
When I awoke, the dawn was coming, and the stars were beginning to turn pale. There was a gentle stir in the tent near by; a tall man came out, and his shadowy form passed from view into the slowly rising mist. A woman moved noiselessly to the fire-place, and, bending over, began to gather the embers together, blowing them to life with her breath. The gray streak along the horizon slowly turned to a rosy hue; here and there the birds began drowsily to peep and twitter, then, when the sun shot its rays through the heavens, a thousand voices burst into rapturous song.
My companions awoke, and one by one we climbed down the rude ladder to the ground.
When we gathered for breakfast, the mother, as she helped the food, asked, "Where is Na-zhe'-de-ah?" (Lester.)
Warren and I looked at each other; neither of us could explain his absence.
"Call him," said the good woman,addressing her son; "we must hurry, the sun is up!"
No response came to the young man's call. It was evident that Lester had slipped away before any one was awake.
Breakfast over, Me-chah'-pe and his sons saddled and packed the horses, while the wife and daughter gathered the various utensils. Warren and I tried to make ourselves useful by holding up the packs with our shoulders, as they ware being placed on the horses.
Me-chah'-pe looked at Warren, then at me, as he shouldered his rifle, and said, "I am sorry that I have not enough horses for all of us to ride. You see those I have are heavily burdened; so we will have to do as our fathers did, take one step forward, then another, and keeping stepping forward until we get to the place where we are going. Are we ready? Here we go!"
And we did go,—horses, dogs, and all. Soon we were joined by the man of the lonely sod house and his family, and together we made quite a cavalcade as we went up hill and down hill, and up hill and down hill again. By and by, we reached a longridge, called by the Indians "the tortuous ridge," which zigzagged in a westerly direction, and along it lay the hunting trail.
The sun grew hot; Warren and I were drenched with perspiration as we plodded on. Every now and then Me-chah'-pe gave us an encouraging word, when we showed signs of lagging. We were determined to keep on, for were we not going to a buffalo hunt! The heat increased. The dogs did not now chase each other and run after birds as when we started out, but let loose their tongues and panted, keeping close to the shadows of the horses. On we all trudged, while the one baby slept on its mother's back, its little head rocking from side to side with the motion of her steps.
As we reached an elevated point on the ridge, Me-chah'-pe shaded his face with his hand and scanned the horizon. Far ahead of us his experienced eye caught sight of an object, like a mere speck. He pointed it out to us, saying, "There's somebody coming."
Warren and I looked at each other in alarm, and then kept our eyes on the speck,which grew larger and larger as the distance between it and us lessened.
"The horse looks like one of your father's," said Me-chah'-pe to me. "I think it is some one looking for you!"
My heart sank When I recognized the horse as father's, and the rider as my uncle, and, for the first time in my life, I was not glad to meet him.
Warren and I were captured, and there was no escape. We tried to be brave when Me-chah'-pe shook hands with us, as his party moved westward; but we were far from happy when, ignominiously mounted on father's horse, one behind the other, we followed my uncle, who walked so rapidly that the animal had to trot now and then to keep up. The road over which we had so laboriously travelled on our outward way was soon retraced, and the sun still high when my uncle, who had wandered all night in search of us, turned us over to Gray-beard.
It was thought best to punish us; so Warren was taken to the top of the house and locked up in the attic, where he was toreflect upon the wrong he had committed in running away. But I am quite sure he thought more about the devil and the ghosts in that horrid place than of anything else.
As for me, I was marched to the dining-room, placed with my back to one of the posts, and my arms brought around it and tied; then I was left alone in this uncomfortable position,—to repent.
The afternoon was close and hot; the windows and doors were open, but the place was very quiet. Now and then I heard the cry of a bird, or the laughter of the happy wren. The time seemed very long as I stood there, with my arms thrown back around the post and my hands tied so that I could not defend myself against the flies that attacked my bare feet. A rooster came to the back door and entered the dining-room. He shied on discovering me; but, as I did not move, he began picking in the cracks of the floor. He spied my toe, looked at it curiously, turning his head from side to side, then stretched his neck and gave it a dab. I was in no mood to be amused by his actions, so I sent him flopping andsquawking under the table. Recovering from his surprise, he ran around, sprang on the table, then on the sill of the open window, tossed up his head, flapped his wings, gave a lusty crow, and hopped out.
Immediately I saw eight little fingers hook themselves on the outer edge of the window-sill, and a head with black hair held back by a rubber comb rise higher and higher until two bright eyes gazed right into mine. The head disappeared, and shortly after a little figure cautiously approached the door, looked all around, and then came up to me. It was Rosalie. Her bright smiling face threw a sunbeam into my gloomy little heart. Without saying a word she wiped the perspiration from my face with the corner of her apron; then she went away softly in the direction of the kitchen. Soon she returned with a tin cup having in it bits of ice. She took a lump and put it in my mouth, then stood looking in my face. After a while, she said, "I like you, don't I?"
"'M h'm!" I assented with my mouth closed, nodding my head.
"When we get big, we're going to be married, ain't we?"
"'M h'm!" again I answered.
"We won't send our children to this horrid old place, will we?"
"'M'm! 'M'm!" I replied with emphasis, shaking my head and stamping the floor.
The little sweet-heart, seeing that the flies troubled my ankles, went out and came back with a linden branch and brushed away the pests. I slid to the floor and sat down with my legs stretched out. Rosalie dropped down too, and sat whisking away the flies.
Gradually things took on queer shapes, and the sounds seemed to come from afar; there was a moment of confusion and then,—I found myself on a wide prairie. Heavy clouds were swiftly approaching; the thunder rolled long and loud, and the lightning darted hither and thither. Off in the distance I saw a forest. I pushed toward it with all my strength so as to take shelter before the storm should come upon me; but as I labored on there crept over me a consciousness of a weight upon my back which, hitherto, I had not noticed. It retarded myprogress, and from time to time I was obliged to stop and give a little spring to shift the burden higher up. A cry of terror came from the thing I was carrying; then I knew it was little Rosalie. I tried to speak words of encouragement to her, but my strength was fast failing. Great drops of rain fell, and the wind drove the dust into my face, blinding me. I tottered on with my load, but the timber was still far away. A vivid flash, a deafening crash, and I fell to the ground with a cry. I tried to rise, but my legs and arms were as though dead.
With a start I opened my eyes. The room was darkened; there was a great commotion; all through the house, windows were being rapidly closed and the doors swung to with a bang. A terrific storm had arisen, and the building was in danger of destruction. Rosalie lay asleep with her head resting on my knees.
It was a hot September afternoon; our gingham handkerchiefs, which matched our shirts, were wet with mopping our faces. We all felt cross; Gray-beard was cross, and everything we did went wrong.
Warren, who had been sent to the spring for a pail of cold water, leaned over his desk to Brush, and whispered loud enough for the boys around us to hear, "A big black carriage came up to the gate just now, and the Agent and three other big fat men got out. The super'tendent shook hands with them, and they went to his room."
While Gray-beard was shaking a boy to make him read correctly, the news of the black carriage and the fat men went from boy to boy. The girls were dying to know what word it was the boys were passing around; but the aisle that separated them from us was too wide to whisper across. Warren's girl made signs to him which heat first did not understand; when he caught her meaning, he tore a fly-leaf out of his book, wrote on it, rolled it into a ball and threw it to the girl, who deftly caught it; these two were adepts at such transmission of messages. The girl unfolded the paper, read it, and passed it on; then the girls felt better and resumed their work.
The class in mental arithmetic took the floor. Not one of the boys knew his lesson. As the recitation went on Gray-beard's face darkened and his forehead wrinkled; he came to a timid youngster with a hard question. I knew there was going to be trouble for the little chap; so, to save him pain and distress, I thought of a plan by which to distract Gray-beard's attention. I reached under my desk and took hold of a thread which I carefully drew until my thumb and finger touched the stiff paper to which it was attached, then, as the boy stammered out the wrong answer and Gray-beard made an impatient movement toward him, I gave the thread a gentle pull, "Biz-z-z-z-z!" it went.
"Who's making that noise?" asked Gray-beard,turning toward our end of the school-room.
I loosened the pressure, and the noise ceased. When Gray-beard returned to the boy, I again pulled the thread, "Biz-z-z-z-z!" Something was wrong this time; the buzzing did not cease, it became louder and angrier.
"Who's doing that?" exclaimed Gray-beard.
Every boy and girl looked up to him as though to say, "I did not do it." The buzzing went on; I alone kept my eyes on my book, and so aroused suspicion. I did not dare to put my hand under the desk again to stop the buzzing, for I had lost the thread. Gray-beard came towards me and asked, "What have you there?" I did not answer.
"Stand up and let me see!" he exclaimed. Before I could give him any warning, he put his hand in the desk and felt about; he sprang back with a cry, "Ah! I'm bitten! Is it a snake?"
"No, it isn't," I answered; and, peering carefully into the desk, I drew out the buzzing thing and showed it to him; it was onlya wasp fastened by its slender waist to a sheet of paper.
Although he felt relieved of his fright, the pain of the sting was arousing his anger, and I saw that there was trouble coming to me; but at that moment, the door opened and in walked the superintendent and the four fat men. Gray-beard went forward and was introduced to them. There was a scramble by three of the large boys to get chairs from the dining-room for the visitors. When the gentlemen had made a quiet survey of our faces, they sat down and questioned Gray-beard about the branches taught at the school, and the progress made by the pupils. In the meantime I had released my prisoner; it went buzzing around the room, and then manœuvred over the bald head of one of the visitors, who beat the air with his hands to ward it off.
"Frank, catch that wasp," said Gray-beard.
I caught the troublesome creature in my hat and turned it out of doors.
When the questioning of the visitors was over, Gray-beard turned to us and said,"Now, children, pay strict attention; these gentlemen want to see what you have learned. I will put some questions to you."
We became so silent that we could hear a pin drop. The visitors smiled upon us pleasantly, as though to encourage us.
"Who discovered America?" asked Gray-beard. Dozens of hands went up. "Abraham, you may answer."
An expression of amusement spread over the faces of the scholars as the great awkward boy stood up. Gray-beard must have been bewildered by the sting of the wasp and the sudden appearance of visitors, else he would not have made such a blunder; for he knew very well what every boy and girl of the school could do; however there was no help for it now; Abraham Lincoln, standing with his hands in his pockets, had the floor; he put his weight on one foot and then on the other, the very picture of embarrassment; he cleared his throat, looked helplessly at me, and then at Brush,—"Come," said Gray-beard, "we are waiting."
"George Washington!" answered Abraham.
A titter ran around among the pupils. Gray-beard's face turned red, then white, as he said, "Abraham, take your seat. Brush, can you tell us who discovered America?"
"Columbus," promptly answered the boy. Then a series of questions were asked, which the children answered voluntarily, and did credit to their teacher. The visitors nodded approvingly to each other. When the examination was over, the Agent arose and, addressing the school, said:
"You have acquitted yourselves well in this sudden and unexpected test; I will now ask you to spell for me. Here is a book," said he, turning the leaves of a pretty gilt edged volume, "which I will give to the scholar who can spell best."
Taking a spelling book, he gave out the words himself. We all stood up, and those who misspelled a word sat down. One by one the pupils dropped to their seats, until only Brush, a big girl, and I remained on the floor; finally I went down, and the girl and Brush went on; they were now in the midst of the hard words. At last Brush failed; the girl also misspelled the word;but as the prize book could not be divided, it was given to her.
"Are the children taught music?" asked one of the strangers.
"No," replied the superintendent; "but they can sing nearly all of the Sunday-school hymns."
"They should be taught music as well as reading and spelling," remarked one of the gentlemen, then, addressing the children, he asked:
"Have your people music, and do they sing?"
"They do," answered one of the large boys.
"I wish you would sing an Indian song for me," continued the man. "I never heard one."
There was some hesitancy, but suddenly a loud clear voice close to me broke into a Victory song; before a bar was sung another voice took up the song from the beginning, as is the custom among the Indians, then the whole school fell in, and we made the room ring. We understood the song, and knew the emotion of which it was theexpression. We felt, as we sang, the patriotic thrill of a victorious people who had vanquished their enemies; but the men shook their heads, and one of them said, "That's savage, that's savage! They must be taught music."
So it came about that every afternoon after this visit we spent an hour on a singing lesson. We learned quite a number of songs, but we sang them by ear, as it was difficult for us to understand the written music. We liked some of the songs we learned very much, and enjoyed singing them almost as well as our own native melodies. Although there were boys with richer voices, Brush was fond of hearing me sing a certain song we had been taught; we always had to give it when visitors came to the Mission. I can remember only the chorus: