introduction
we are children only once, and then only for a few brief years. but
these are the most impressionable years of a lifetime. never again will the
world and everything in it be so eternally new so filled with wonder. never
again will physical, mental, spiritual growth be so natural and unavoidable.
During these years, habits become ingrained, tastes are developed, personality
takes form. The chield’s whole being is geared toward lerning. He instinctilevy
reaches outo for truth and, having no prejudices, seizes upon that wich is
good, just, beatiful. For these reasons, a child deserves what walter de la
mare has called “only the rarest kind of best!.
What do we mean by “best” in a book for children? Best books reflect
universal truths with clarity and artitry. Such books reveal that man is
essecialy good and that life is infinitely worth living. They do not deny the
exsitence of evil, but rather emphasize man’s thrilling struggle against evil
through faith, courage, and perseverance. They awaken the young reader’s
imagination, call forth his laughter as well as his tear’s help him to
undestand and to love his fellow man. The reading of such books constitutes a
rich heritage of experience wich is every chil’ds birthright.
The librarian-editors of collier’s junior classics have combed the best
children’s books of the past and present to assemble in a single series a
sampling of the finest literature for boys and girls. High standards have been
mainteined for the art work also, wich in most instances has been taken from
the original book. No attempt has been made to cover all fields of knowledge or
to include factual material for its own sake. The emphasis here is no good
literature, chielfy fiction and biography, folk lore and legend, and some
poetry. Special attention is given to the american scene anda amrican
democratic ideals, but many selections cover other cultures, geographical
areas, and historial periods.
The purpose of collier’s jnior classics is to introduce boys and girls
to some of the best books ever written for children, to stimulate young
readers to seek for themselves the books
from wich the selections have been drawn as well as other good books of similar
appeal, and to encourage children to become discriminating, thoght-ful,
life-time readers. Author, title, and publisher are given at the foot of the
page on wich each selection opnes. This enables readers to ask for the complete
book at a library or bookstore. When necessary recommendations, complete with
publishers’ names, appear at the end of most stories.
Collier’s junior classics is a series of ten individually indexed
volumes. A, b, c: go! Has been lovingly compiled for the youngest, and consists
of musery rhymes, favorite folk tales, best-loved poems, and stories for
reading aloud. Four volumes have been assembled for the intermediate group:
once upon a time, a wonderous collectionn of tables, world folk tales, and
modern fairy tales; magic in the air, selections from great masterpieces of
fantasy; jst around the corner, excepts from warm-hearted stories of other
lands; and in your own backyard, selections from stirring books about our own
country. Four adittional volumes cater to the interest of more mature boys and
girls: gifts from the past, memorable selections from world classics; legends
of long ago, selections from great myths, epics, and american tall tales; roads
to greatness; excerpts from biographies of some of the greatest men and women
of the world classics; legends of long ago, selections from great myths, epics,
and american tall tales; roads to greatness; excerpts from biogreaphies of some
of the greatest men and women of the world; and call of adventure, selections
from action and suspense stories of today and yesterday. Finally, and most
anusual of all, is the volume entitled harvest of hollidays, a feast of
stories, poems, documents, and factual material about twenty-two american
national and religious holidays. Although perhaps of greatest interest to the
intermediate group, harvest of holidays will intrigue and delight all ages.
The tables of contents for the ten volumes read like an all-time who’s
who of distinguished writes. A brief mention of only a few of these authors
would include such names as lewis carrol, kenneth grahame, charles dickens,
mark twain, louisa may alcott, pearl buck, laura ingalls wilder, eleanor estes,
genevieve foster, robert louis steveson, robert mccloskey, valenti angelo, carl
sandbug, a. A. Milne, eleanor farjeon, elizabeth enright, and maragaret wise
brown. Among the ilustrators, many of whom are also authors, are to be found
the illustrators, many of whom are also authors, are to be found the
petershams, the d’aulaires, wanda gag,
louis slobodkin, helen sewel, lois lenski, roger duvoisin, maurice sendak, kurt
wiese, marguerite de angeli, steele savage, howard pyle, lynd ward, james
daugherty, arthur rackam, fritz kredel, and gustave dore.
Collier’s junior classics is intended primarily for the home, although
libraries will find the series valuable for browsing as well as for introducing
children to many different books. Because each book is an individual volume,
complete with its own index, it can be shelved where the librarian believes it
will be most usefol to the children.
No pains have been spared to make the individual volumes a series of
stepping stones to all that is best in the magic world of children’s books.
CONTENTS
-the wolf pack
-away goes sally
-wating for jepha
-a friend in need
-the yellow shop
-the covered bridge
-little navajo bluebird
-... and now miguel
-experiment 13
-the hndred dresses
-the great baloon ascension
-the girl in pink
-pony penning day
-a different world
-bright april
-the fair
-henry and the paper route
-jane and the chief of police
-index of authors and titles
-acknowledgments
IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD
Every united states
In colonial times settlers poured into the new world from many parts of europe . After tre revolutionary war, world from many
parts of europe . After the revolutionary war,
when the united states was
formed, more and more people found homes in america united states
IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD is a potpourri, a mixture of americans. It tells
stories of young people growing up in the maerica of yesterday - travelling
through the wilderness in covered wagons, pioneering on the plains. It tells
stories of young people living in america
IN YOUR OWN BACKYARD tells the story of a democracy through the lives of
boys and girls in many parts of the united states
The walls are up, “pa was saying to ma in the morning. “we’d better move
in and get along as best we can without a floor or other fixings. I must build
the stable as fast as i can, so pet and patty can be inside walls, too. Last
night i could hear wolves howling from every direction, seemed like, and close,
too”.
“well you have your gun, so i’ll not worry.” Said ma. “yes, and there’s
jack. Butt i’ll feel easier in my mind when you and the girls have good solid
walls around you.”
“why do you suppose we haven’t seen any inidans?”
ma asked.
“oh, i don’t know,”pa replied, carelessly. “i’ve seen their
camping-places among the bluffs. They«re away on a hunting-trip now, i guess.”
Then ma called:”girls! The sun’s up!” and laura and mary scrambled out
of bed and into their clothes.
“eat your breakfasts quickly,” ma said, putting the last of the rabbit
stew on their tin plates. “we’re moving into the house today, and all the chips
must be out.”
So they ate quickly, and hurried to carry all the chips outo of the
house. They ran back and forth as fast as they could, gathering their skirts
full of chips and dumping them in a pile near the fire. But there were still
chips on the ground inside the house when ma began to sweep it with her
willow-bough broom.
Ma limped, though her sprained ankle was beginning to get well. Butt she
soon swept the earthen floor, and then mary and laura began to help her carry
things into the house.
Pa was on top of the walls, stretching the canvas wagon-top over the
skeleton roof of saplings. The canvas billowed in the wind. Pa’s beard blew
widly and his hair stood up from his head as if it were trying to pull itself
out. He held onto the canvas and fought it. Once it jerked so hard that laura
thought he must let go or sail into the air like a bird. But he held tight to
the wall with his legs, and tight to the canvas with his hands, and he tied it
down.
“there!” he said to it. “stay where you are, and be - “
“charles!” ma said, she sttod with her arms full of quilts and looked up
at him reprovingly.
“ - and be good,” pa said to the canvas.”why, caroline, what did you
think i was going to say?”
“oh, charles!” ma sid. « you scalawag ! »
pa came right down the corner of the house. The ends of the logs stuck
out, and he used them for a ladder. He ran his hand through his hair so that it
stoód up even more wildly, and ma bust out laughing. Then he hugged her, quilts
and all.
Then they looked at the house and pa said, “how’s that for a snug
house!”
“i’ll be thankful to get into it,” said ma.
There was no door and there were no windows. There was no floor except
the ground and no roof except the canvas. But that house had good stout walls,
and it would stay where it was. It was not like the wagon, that every morning
went on to some other place.
“we’re going to do well here, caroline,” pa said. “this is a great
country. This is a country i’ll be contented to stay in the rest of my life.”
“even when it’s settled up?” ma asked.
“even when it’s settled up. No matter how thick and close the neighboors
get, this country’ll never feel crowded. Look at the sky!”
laura knew what he meant. She liked this place, too. She liked the
enormous sky and the winds, and the land that you couldn’t see to the end of.
Everything was so fresh and clean nad big and splendid.
By dinner time the house was in order. The beds were neatly made on the
floor. The wagon-seat and two ends of logs were brought in for chairs. Pa’s gun
lay on its pegs above the doorway. Boxes and bundles were neat against the
walls. It was a plesant house. A soft light came through the window holes, and
every crack in the four walls glowed a little because the sun was overhead.
Only the camp fire stayed it had been. Pa said he would build a
fireplace in the house as soon as he could. He would hew out slabs to make a
solid roof, too, before winter came. He would lay a puncheon floor, and make
beds and tables and chairs. But all that woork must wait until he had helped
mr. Edwards and had built a stable for pet and patty.
“when that’s all done,”said ma, “i want a clothes-line.”
Pa laughed. “yes, and i want a well.”
After dinner he hitched pet and patty to the wagon and he hauled a
tubful of water from the creek, so that ma could do the washing. “you could
wash clothes in the creek,” he told her. “indian women do.”
“if we eanted to live like indians, you could make a hole in the roof to
let the smoke out, and we’d have the fire on the floor inside the house,” said
ma. “indians do.”
That afternoon she washed the clothes in the tub and spread them on the
grass to dry.
After supper they sat for a while by the camp fire. That night they
would sleep in the house; they would never sleep beside a camp fire again. Pa
and ma talked about the folks in wisconsin
Back in the big woods so far away, grandpa and grandma and the aunts and
uncles and cousins did not know where pa and ma and laura and mary and baby
carrie were. And sitting there by the camp fire, no one knew what might have
appened in the big woods.
There was no way to find out.
“well, it’s bedtime,”ma said, baby carrie was already asleep. Ma carried
her into the house and undressed her, while mary unbuttoned laura’s dress and
petticoat waist down the back, and pa hung a quilt over the door hole. The
quilt would be better than no door. Then pa went outo to bring pet and patty
close to the house.
He called back, softly, “come out here, caroline, and look at the moon.”
Mary and laura lay in their little bed on the ground inside the new
house, and watched the sky through the window hole to the east. The edge of the
big, bright moon glittered at the bottom of the window space, and laura sat up.
She looked at the great moon, sailing silently higher in the clear sky.
Its light made silvery lines in all the craks on that side of the house.
The light poured through the window hole and made a square of soft radiance on
the floor. It was so bright that laura saw ma plainly when she lifted the quilt
at the door and came in.
Then laura very quickly lay down, before ma saw her naughtily sitting up
in bed.
She heard pet and patty whinnying softly to pa. Then the faint thuds of
their feet came into her ear from the floor. Pet and patty and pa were coming
toward the house, and laura heard pa singing.
“sail on, silver moon!
Shed your radiance o’er the sky-“
His voice was like part of the night and the moon-light and the stilness
of the prairie. He came to the door-way, singing.
“by the pale, silver light of the moon-“
softly ma said,”hush, charles. You’ll wake the children.”
So pa came in without a sound. Jack followed at his heels and lay down
across the doorway. Now they were all inside the stout walls of their new home,
and they were sung and safe. Drowsily laura heard a long wolf-howl rising from
far away on the prairie, but only a litle shiver went up her backbone and she
fell asleep.
All in one day pa and mr. edwards
built the stable for pet and patty. They even put the roof on, working
so late that ma had to keep supper waitting for them.
There was no stable door, but in the moonlight pa drove stouts posts
well into the ground, one on either side of the doorway. He put pet and patty
inside the stable, and then he laid small, split logs one above another, across
the door space. The posts held them, and they made a solid wall.
“now!” said pa. “let those wolves how! I’ll sleep, tonight.”
In the morning, when he lifted the split logs from behind the posts,
laura was amazed. Beside pet stood a long-legged, long-eared, wobbly little
colt.
When laura ran toward it, gentle pet laid back her ears and snapped her
teeth at laura.
“keep back, laura!” pa said, sharply. He said to pet,
“now, pet, you know we won’t hurt your little colt.” Pet answered him
with a soft whinny. She would let pa stroke her colt, but she would not let
laura or mary come near it. When they even peeked at it through the cracks in
the stable wall, pet rolled the whites of her eyes at them and shwed them her
teeth. They had never seen a colt with ears so long. Pa said it was a little
mule, but laura said it looked like a jack rabbit. So they named the little
colt bunny.
When pet was on the picket-line, with bunny frisking around her and
wondering at the big world, laura must watch baby carrie carefully. If anyone
but pa came near bunny, pet squealed with rage and dashed to bite that little
girl.
Early that Sunday afternoon pa rode patty away across the prairie to see
what he should see. There was planty of meat in the house, so he did not take
his gun.
He rode away through the tall grass. Along the rim of the creek bluffs.
Birds flew up before him and circled and sank into the grasses. Pa was looking
down into the creek bottoms as he rode; perhaps he was watching deer browsing
there. Then patty broke into a gallop, and swiftly she and pa grew smaller.
Soon there was only waving grass where they had been.
Late that afternoon pa had not come home. Ma stirred the coals of the
fire and laid chips on them, and began to get supper. Mary was in the house,
minding the babby, and laura asked ma, “what’s the matter with jack?”
Jack was walking up and down, looking worried. He wrinkled his nose at
the wind, and the hair rose up on his neck and lay down, and then rose up
again. Pet’s hoofs suddenly thudded. She ran around the circle of her
picket-rope and stood still, whickering a low whicker. Bunny came close to her.
“what’s the matter, jack?” ma asked. He looked up at her, but he
counldn’t stay anything. Ma gazed around the whole circle of earth and sky. She
could not see anything unusual.
“likely it isn’t anything, laura,” she said. She raked coals around the
cofee-pot and the spider and onto the top of the bake oven. The prairie hen
sizzledd in the spider and the corncakes began to smell good. But all the time
ma kept glacing at the prairie all around. Jack walked about restlessly, and
pet did not graze. She faced the northwest, where pa had gone, and kept her
colt close beside her.
All at once patty came running across the prairie. She was streched out,
running with all her might, and pa leaning almost flat o her neck.
She ran right past the stable before pa could stop her.
He stopped her so hard that she almost sat down. She was trembling all
over and her black coat was streaked with sweat and foam. Pa swung off her. He
was breathing hard, too.
“what is the matter, charles?” ma asked him.
Pa was looking toward the creek, so ma and laura looked at it, too. But
they could see only the space above the bottom lands, with a few tree-tops in
it, and the distant tops of the earthen bluffs under the high prairie’s
grasses.
“what is it?” ma asked again. “why did you ride patty like that?”
pa brethed a long breath. “i was afraid the wolves would beat me here.
But i see everything’s all right.”
“wolves!” she cried. “what wolves?”
“everything’s all right, caroline.” Said pa. “let a fellow get his
breath.”
When he had got some breath, he said,”i dind’t ride patty like that. It
was all i could do to hold her at all. Fifty wolves, caroline, the biggest
wolves i ever saw. I wounldn’t go through such a thing again, not for a mint of
money.”
A shadow came over the prairie just then because the sun had gone down,
and pa said, “i’ll tell you about it later.”
“no need of that,” he told her. “jack wil give us warning in plenty of
time.”
He brought pet and her colt from the picket-line. He didn’t take them
and patty to drink from the creek, as he usually did. He gave them the water in
ma’s washtub, wich was standing full, ready for the washing the next morning.
He rubbed down patty’s sweaty sides and legs and put her in the barn with pet
and bunny.
Supper was ready. The camp fire made a circle of light in the dark.
Laura and mary stayed close to the fire, and kept baby carrie with them. They
could feel the dark all around them, and they kept looking behind them at the
place where the dark mixed with the edge of the firelight.
Sahdows moved there, as if they were alive.
Jack sat on his haunches beside laura. The edges of his ears were
lifted, listening to the dark. Now and then he walked a litle way into it. He
walked all around then he walked a litle way into it. He walked all around the
camp fire, and came back to sit beside laura. The hair lay flat on his neck and
he did not growl. His teeth showed a little, but taht was because he was a
bulldog.
Laura and mary ate their corncakes and the prairie hen’s drumsticks, and
they listened to pa while he told ma about the wolves.
He had found some more neighbors. Settlers were coming in and settling
along both sides of the creek. Less than three miles away, in a hollow on the
high prairie, a man and his wife were building a house. Their name was scott,
and pa said they were nice folks. Six miles beyond them, two bachelors were
living in one house. They had taken two farms, and built the house on the line
between them. One man’s bunk was against one wall of the house, and the other
man’s bunk was against the other wall. So each man slept on his own farm,
although they were in the same house and the house was only eight feet wide.
They cooked and ate together in the middle of the house.
Pa had not said anything about the wolves yet. Laura wished he would.
But she knew that she must not interrupt when pa was talking.
He said that these bachelors did not know that anyone else was in the
country. They had seen nobody but indians. So they were glad to see pa, and he
stayed there longer than he had meant to.
Then he rode on, and from a little rise in the prairie he saw a white
speck down in the creek bottoms. He thought it was a covered wagon, and it was.
When he came to it, he found a man and his wife and five children. They had
come from iowa
So pa did what he could for them, and then he rode back to tell the
bachelors about them. One of them rode right away to fetch that family up on
the high prairie, where they would soon get well in the good air.
One thing had led to another, until pa was starting home later than he
had meant. He took a short cut across the prairie, and as he was loping along
on patty, suddenly outo fo a little draw came a pack of wolves. They were all
around pa in a moment.
“it was a big pack,” pa said.”all of fifty wolves, and the biggest
wolves i ever saw in life. Must be what they call buffalo wolves. Their leader’s
a big gray brute that stands three feet at the soulders, if an inch. I tell you
my hair stood straight on end.”
“and you didn’t have your gun,”said ma.
“i thought of that. But my gun would have been of no use if i’d had it.
You can’t fight fifty wolves with one gun.
And patty couldn’t outrun them.”
“what did you do?” ma asked.
“nothing,”said pa.”patty tried to run. I never wanted anything worse
than i wanted to get away from there.
But i knew if patty even started, those wolves would be on us in a minute,
pulling us down. So i held patty to a walk.”
“goodness, charles!” ma said under her breath.
“yes. I wouldn’t go through such a thing again for any money. Caroline,
i never saw such wolves. One big fellow trotted along, right by my stirruo. I
could have kicked him in the ribs. They didn’t pay any attention to me at all.
They must have just made a kill and eaten all they could.
“i tell you, caroline, those wolves just closed in around patty and me
and trotted along with us. In broad day-light. For all the world like a pack of
dogs going along with a horse. They were all around us, trotting along, and
jumping and playing and snapping at each other, jst like dogs.”
“goodness, charles!” ma said again. Laura’s heart was thumping fast, and
her mouth and her eyes were wide open, staring at pa.
“patty was shaking all over, and fighting the bit,” said pa. “sweat ran
off her, she was so scared. I was sweating, too. But i held her down to a walk,
and we went walking along among those wolves. They came right along with us, a
qaurter of a mile or more. That big fellow trotted by my stirrup as if he were
there to stay.
“then we came to the head of a draw, runing down into the creek bottoms.
The big gray leader wnet down it, and all the rest of the pack trotted down
into it, behind him. As soon as the last one was in the draw, i let patty go.
“she headed straight for home, across the prairie. And she couldn’t have
run faster if i’d been cutting into her with a rawhide whip. I was scared the
whole way. I thought the wolves might be coming this way. I thought the wolves
might be coming this way and they might be making better time than i was. I was
glad you had the gun, caroline. And glad the house is built. I knew you could keep the wolves outo fo the
house, with the gun. But pet and the colt were outside.”
“you need not have worried, charles,”ma said.”i guess i would manage to
save our horses.”
“i was not fully reasonable, at the time,” said pa.”i know you would
save the horses, caroline. Those wolves wouldn’t bother you, anyway. If they
had been hungry, i wouldn’t be here to-“
“little pitchers have big ears,” ma said. She meant that he must not
frighten mary and laura.
“well, all’s well that ends well,” pa replied.”and those wolves are
miles from here by now.”
“what made them act like that?” laura asked him.
“i don’t know, laura,” he said. “i guess they had jst eaten all they
could hold, and they were out playing on the prairie, and not paying any
attention to anything but their play, like little girls do sometimes. Perhaps they
saw that i dindn’t have my gun and couldn’t do them any harm. Or perhaps they
had never seen a man before and didn’t know that men can do them any harm. So
they didn’t think about me at all.”
Pet and patty were restlessly walking around and around, inside the
barn. Jack walked around the camp fire. When he stood still to smell the air
and listen, the hair lifted on his neck.
“bedtime for little girls!” ma said, cheerfully. Not even baby carrie
was sleepy yet, but. Ma took them all into the house. She told mary and laura
to go to bed, and she put baby carrie’s little nightgown on and laid her in the
big bed. Then she went outdoors to do the dishes. Laura wanted pa and ma in the
house. They seemed so far away outside.
Mary and laura were good and lay still, but carrie sat up and played by
herself in the dark. In the dark pa’s arm came from behind the quilt in the
doorway and quietly took away his gun. Out by the camp fire the tin plates
rattled. Then a knife scraped the spider. Ma and pa were talking together nad
laura smelled tobacco smoke.
The house was safe, but it did not feel safe because pa’s gun was not
over the door nad there was no door; there was only the quilt.
After a long time ma lifted the quilt. Baby carrie was asleep then. Ma
and pa came in very quietly and very quietly went to bed. Jack lay across the
doorway, but his chin was not on his paws. His head was up, listening. Ma
breathed softly, pa breathed heavily, and mary was asleep, too. But laura
strained her eyes in the dark to watch jack. She could not tell whether the
hair was standing up on his neck.
Suddenly she was sitting straight up in bed. She had been asleep. The
dark was gone. Moonlight streamed trough the window hole and streaks of
moonlight came trough every crack in that wall. Pa stood black in the moonlight
at the window. He had his gun.
Right in laura’s ear a wolf howled.
She scringed away from the wall. The wolf was on the other side of it.
Laura was too scared to make a sound. The cold was not in her backbone only, it
was all trough her. Mary pulled the quilt over her head. Jack growled and
showed his teeth at the quilt in the doorway.
“be still, jack.”pa said.
Terrible howls curled all around inside the house, and laura rose out of
bed. She wanted to go to pa, but she knew better than to bother him now. He
turned his head and saw her standing in her nightgown.
“want to see them, laura?” he asked, softly. Laura couldn’t say
anything, but she nodded, and padded across the ground to him. He stood his gun
against the wall and lifted her up to the window hole.
There in the moonlight sat half a circle of wolves. They sat on their
haunches and looked at laura in the window, and she looked at them. She had
never seen such big wolves. The biggest one was taller than laura. He was
taller even than mary. He sait in the middle, exactly opposite laura.
Everything about him was big - his pointed ears, and his pointed mouth with the
tongue hanging out, and his strong shoulders and legs, and his two paws side by
side, and his tail curled around the squatting haunch. His coat was shaggy gray
and his eyes were glittering green.
Laura clutched her toes into a crack of the wall and she folded her arms
on the window slab, and she looked and looked at that woolf. But she did not
put her head trough the empty window space into the outdoords where all those
wolves sat so near her, shifting their paws and licking their chops. Pa sttod
firm against her back and kept his arm tight around her middle.
“he’s awful big,” laura whispered.
“yes, and see how his coat shines,” pa whispered into her hair. The
moonlight made little glitters in the edges of the shaggy fur, all around the
big wolf.
“they are in a ring clear around the house,” pa wishpered. Maura
pattered beside him to the other window. He leaned his gun against thata wall
and lifted her up again. There, sure enough, was the other half of the circle
of wolves. All their eyes glittered green in the shadow of the house. Laura
could hear their breathing. When they saw pa and laura looking out, the middle
of the circle moved back a little way.
Pet and patty were squeling and running inside the barn. Their hoofs
pounded the ground and crashed against the walls.
After a moment pa went back to the other window, and laura went, too.
They were just in time to see the big wolf lift his nose till it pointed
straight at the sky. His mouth opened, and a long howl rose toward the moon.
Then all around the house the circle of wolves pointed their noses
toward the sky and answered him. Their howls shuddered through the house and
filled the moon-light and quavered away across the vast silence of the prairie.
“now go back to bed, little half-pint,” pa said. “go to sleep. She
lay and listened to the breathing of the
wolves on the other side of the log wall. She heard the scratch of their claws
on the ground, and the snuffling of a nose at a crack. She heard the big gray
leader howl again, and all the others answering him.
But pa was walking quietly from one window hole to the other, and jack
did not stop pacing up and down before the quilt that hung in the doorway. The
wolves might howl, but they could not get in while pa and jack were there. So
at last laura fell asleep.
AWAY GOES SALLY
Wilder and wilder grew the country through wich they passed, and farther
and farther apart were the settlements, but still the little house went on. One
day when dinah was runing along beside the oxen, as she sometimes liked to do
for a little while, she was almost carried away by a fox that chased her right
in among the oxen’s hoofs before sliding off into the woods again like a red
shadow. After that, sally never let dinah down without walking with her, and
dinah herself kept looking over her black shoulders at the woods.
Sometimes they made long journeys and sometimes short, for it was not so
easy now to make sure that the cattle had a barn-roof over them each night.
One morning sally was walking by herself at the head of the procession.
A feeling of early spring was in her bones. They had passed some men sugaring
off, boiling the maple syrup in big kettles over a leaping fire, sunk deep in
the snow. The men called outo to them and came to admire the little house and
look over the oxen. They insisted that the ladies must take a crock of their
syrup and would accpet no pay.
“you’ll do as much for us some time,” sid one of them. Sally walked on,
eating a piece of bread and syrup carefully, her eyes on a scolding squirrel in
one of the trees. When she looked ahead she saw someone or something coming
towards them. For a long time she thought it must be a man with a dog, but when
they came nearer she saw that the animal was a black bear-cub on a chain.
The little bear shambled along, swinging his head from side to side. His
coat was black and shiny except about his nose wich was brown. His little eyes
looked at her expectantly. When the man who was leading him stopped, the cub
sat down and held the chain between his front paws like clumsy hands.
“how do you do?” said sally, looking from the cub to the man who was
with him. He was an indian, tall and thin, wearing an old coat and hat that had
belonged to white men, but his leggings and moccasins were made of fringed
buckskin. He smiled at her gravely and she smiled back. She had seen few
indians, but she liked them. She put her hand on the cub’s head and he dropped
the chain and played with her wristis instead.
Uncle joseph rode up and pulled in peacock, who snorted. The oxen
stopped, heads low, stamping at the smell of wild life.
“he’s real cute little fellow,” said jehoshaphat mountain, rubbing the
bear’s ribs with the ends of his pole.
“i wish i could have him, uncle,” said sally wistfully.
“what would you do when he grew big and cross?”
asked uncle joseph.
“let him go back to the woods,” said sally.
“i won’t have a dratted bear in the house,” called aunt nannie from the
door.”there’s enough of us as it is with-out cubs, i should think.”
Uncle eben had come up.
“just what i need to keep me warm in the sleigh,” he said without a
twinkle. “i’ve been wanting a bear-cub for ever and ever so long. Dinah’s too
small to be any good as a warmer, and shally keeps in front of the procession.
How much, hey?” he went on to the indian, and in five minutes he had bought the
little bear-collar, chain and all-and carried him off to dorcas and the sleigh,
while aunt nannie, and aunt deborah, and aunt esther crowded to the window to
watch.
Dorcas soon got used to the smell of bear, though at first she tried to
run away, and from that time on sally spent a good many hours with uncle eben
in the sleigh. Hannibal hannibal
“you say it’s late, do you, and time to have dinner? Well, you’ll just
have to wait. You don’t like waiting, you say? Well, here’s a doughnut sally
will give you if you’re polite. Now say ‘thank you.’ You won’t? And why not?
You say one doughnut isn’t enough, do you?”
“how can you tell what he’s saying, uncle eben?” sally would ask.
“why, can’t you?” uncle eben seemed suprised. And after a while sally
almost tghout she could undestand, too.
It took only a few days for the oxen and horses to get used to having hannibal
One gray afternoon she and the aunts were sitting in aunt nannie’s house
sewing when aunt deborah sighed.
“this afternoon seems long,” she said. Through the windows endless trees
moved slowly by, each making room for another tree to take its place. A little
snow was falling.
“let’s invite hannibal
Aunt nannie started to protest, but stopped herself.
She thought for a moment and then said to sally:
“put on your cloack, child, and tell master hannibal
Uncle eben pretended to grumble.
“who’s going to keep me warm? What’s that you say, you rascal? You don’t
care? You want to go, anyhow? You’ve never been introduced to mrs. Dinah, but
you’ve admired her from a distance? Well, go along, then. I supose i can keep
myself warm,” and he pulled dorcas to a halt while hannibal
It was the merriest afternoon. The squirrels in the dark trees at the
sides of the road and the few crows passing overhead must have been surprised
at the peals of laughter ringing outo from the go-abroad house. Even the oxen
twitched back their stolid ears to listen, and peacock pranced as he led the
cavalcade. In the first place, dinah looked furios at having another animal
come into her world. She backed slowly towards one of the beds, her back up,
her tail like a bottle brush, her ears laid close to her head and her eyes
sparkling. When she backde into the bed, she thought something had attacked her
from behind and spit like a perfect fury. All the time hannibal hannibal hannibal
“how do you like my bear, nannie?” asked uncle eben, smacking his lips
over his chocolate.
“he’s a nice enough litle creature,” said aunt nannie, and then, feeling
that she had relented too far, she added quickly, “but what good is he to
anyone?”
“you wait and see,” said uncle eben, more wisely than he knew, for it
was not many days before hannibal
“i don’t like the feel of the air,” said aunt deborah timidly one morning
as they were having breakfast.
“what’s wrong with it, debby?” asked uncle eben helping himself to
another piece of pie.
“it feels like a storm,” said aunt deborah shivering.”i wish brother
joseph, you would put up here for another day.”
Sally looked from the window and saw the men bringing the cattle out of
the crude log barn in wich they had been crowded together the night before.
Beyond them she saw the settler’s cabin, an untidy sort of place in a clearing
ugly with raw stumps sticking trgough the snow.
They were so near the penobscot now that she hated the idea of any
delay. Aunt esther hated it, too, sally could see.
“better safe than sorry,” aunt nannie remarked.
“i don’t notice anything unsual,”said uncle joseph.
“the wind’s northwest and we might get a squall, but nothing to speak
of. I’ll talk to the man here and see what he says.”
Sally watched him consulting with a small bearded man in a racoon-skin
cap. They looked at the sky, wet their fingers and tested the wind. She was
glad to see that the yoking of the oxen went on.
“he think’s all right, deborah,” said uncle joseph, sticking his head
trough the door, and was off.
Sally loved the start in the morning. All the animals knew now what was
expected of them, even hannibal
The jolt upset dinah, who retired with a look of irritation for another
nap. There was nothing unusual, except that aunt deborah still had a worried
air. Now they were out of the clearing and in the woods again, going down the
narrow rough road between the two endless dark walls of trunks. It was almost
dinner time when the snow began. At first it came lightly, and uncle eben joked
autn deborah, as they ate about the little table.
“here’s your blizzard, debby,” he said affectionately.
“someone’s been shaking a feather-bed somewhere.”
But uncle joseph did not joke. He hurried trough his meal, and soon
sally saw him helping to get the oxen in line again. In half the usual time
they were on the road, with jehoshaphat urging on the teams to their greatest
speed. The snow fell heavier, and now most of the windows were covered thick
with it and the title house was dark. Sally, peering trough the sheltered top
of a window, could no longer see the leaders, but only the backs of the nearest
pair.
Aunt deborah lit the lamp in silence, and the aunts knitted quietly
together. Sally went to put a stick of wood on the fire.
“no, child,” said aunt nannie, looking up.”we had better save the wood.”
Sally sat by the window on the lee side staring out, but she could not
see two feet ahead of her. Several times she had a shadowy glimpse of uncle
joseph riding by on peacock. Once he taped on the window, and leaned out of the
saddle so that his face was near the glass. He looked at her inquiringly, his
hair and eyebrows matted with snow. Sally wanted to cry, but she smiled and
nodded at him instead. All was well in the house. He disappeared again into the
curtain of snow.
Dinah lay in sally’s lap, but though sally stroked and coaxed her, she
would not purr. Sometimes she shivered and burrowed her head against sally as
though she were trying to get away from something. The room was growing colder,
and all the time it seemed to sally that the little house was going more and
more slowly. Sometimes it stopped, and she knew an ox had stumbled, but always
it went on again.
“put the stick on now, child,” said aunt nannie from the silence. “the
fire mustn’t go out.”
“i wish we’d followed your
advice, aunt deborah,” said sally, as she put a small stick on the embers.
“tut, my dear,” answered aunt deborah almost sharply. “there’s no use
crying over spilled milk.”
“do you think uncle eben and hannibal
whispered sally, voicing the fear that had been in her mind for a long
time now.
“of course,”said aunt nannie,”or brother joseph wouldn’t go on. But i
wish i felt so sure of old brindle and the cows.”
Then there was silence again-only the knitting needles and the clock
sounded in the room, and ouside the snow fell and fell, and the wearying oxen
stumbled forward through the deeping drifts, and the little house still crept
slowly towards the penobscot.
It was dinah who first gave the signal that the storm was over. She
jumped down from sally’s lap, yawned, and began washing her paws. Sally, who
had been in a sort of trance, looked out and then clapped her hands.
“i can see the trees, aunt nannie! Look, aunt deborah!
Look, aunt esther, there are the trees again!” it seemed to her like
heaven, just to see the forest beside the road, after the blinding hours they
had been through.
The snow was over as quickly as it had come. In another half-hour the
last flurry had fallen, and sally in her red colak, under a clearing sky, was
floudering in the deep drifts, amking her way back to uncle eben.
“are teh cows all there?” she called to one of the men.
He wiped his mitten across his face and grimed, nodding. The cows were
plodding on, their sides heaving with the effort, but the oxen ahead had
trampled the path for them and the little house had broken part of the force of
the storm.
“hello!” said a cheerfull voice, and, looking up, all her fear melted
into one peal of laughter. Two white snow-crusted faces surrounded by snow fur
were turned to her from the sleigh, two pairs of brown eyes looked at her
kindly, two fat bodies in bearskins sat side by side.
“i can’t tell wich is wich,” sally said,”but may i come up?”
the bells stopped ringing. In a moment she was tucked in under the rugs
between the other two and the sleigh-bells returned to their gay wild song. All
the time the caravan moved on.
“it wouldn’t be safe to let the beasts stand,” explained uncle
eben.”joseph will keep them moving so they won’t stiffen. Easy does it. There’s
nothing to worry about now.”
He beat his mittened hands against his chest.
“don’t you wt to come in and get warm, uncle eben?” asked sally
anxiously.
“can’t desert the ship,” said uncle eben. “don’t worry, my dear, i’m
right as rain. But you might take hannibal
The world seemed beatiful as sally and hannibal hannibal hannibal
“hurry up,”cried sally, giving it a jerk.
But hannibal
He had his little beady eyes fixed on something by the side of the road
wich sally had not noticed. It looked like a log, almost hidden with snow, wich
some woo-cutter had left learning against a pine.
Sally’s feet were cold.
“don’t be silly, hannibal
But hannibal
“drat the bear!” thought sally to herself, but she had to give in.
Better let hannibal hannibal
“what’s up?” called uncle eben, stopping dorcas.
“it’s hannibal
They had almost reached the stump, and the cub turned and looked at her
as though saying, “there, do you see now?”
And sally, looking closely, did see at last.
“uncle eben!” she called.”oh, uncle eben! It’s a man!”
“is he dead?” thought sally, sitting in a corner of the room with her
arms round hannibal
“he is dead!” said sally out loud, and began to cry softly.
“hush!” whispered aunt deborah, hurrying by with some blankets.”he’s not
dead, child.”
Sally caught her skit.”will he be all right?” she whispered back.
“i don’t know.” Aunt deborah spoke low as though the man might overhear
her. “let me go, dear. There’s no time to be lost.”
Outside all was still, but inside people were hurrying softly and
speaking low quick directions. Sally, watching with her heart in her mouth, saw
uncle eben force the man’s mouth open with the top of the rum bottle, and a
moment later she was brought to her feet by seeing the stranger’s eyes open, in
a bright blue stare that made her catch her breath. But she had little time to
be relieved for uncle joseph just then came in with a pail full of snow.
She saw him cutting off the man’s shoes with his knife, and now they
were all filling their hands with snow and the uncles were rubbing his feet
with it and the aunts were rubbing his hands and nose and ears, while the man
groaned and stired.
“poor amn, isn’t he cold enough?” thought sally.”but uncle joseph and
aunt nannie mst know.”
“oh, stop it, hannibal
The snow was getting low in the pail, and sally took another one
outdoors to fill. The hired men were walking the horses and oxen and cows up
and down slowly while the struggle went on inside.
“how is the poor critter, miss sally?” asked jehoshaphat
mountain-everyone’s rubbing him with snow.”
“so he won’t lose his fingers and toes, that is,” said jehoshaphat.”they
mstn’t warm too quick or they would fall right off. A peddler, i think he is,
from the pack we found beside him.”
Sally hurried back with the snow. And now even she could see that the
circulation was coming back into the man’s veins, and his flesh no longer
looked so like stone.
But he was groaning worse than ever.
“is hs dying, uncle eben?” she asked, putting the pail handy.
“not a bit of it, child,” said uncle eben.”the bllood’s coming back,
that’s all. He’ll be all right in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. But get more
snow, there’s a good child. We want to save all of him, if we can.”
Sally was out in the snow and back again like a flash. The peddler
wasn’t groaning so much now and everyone looked more cheerful.
“there, esther,” said aunt deborah,”his face is safe, i think, you’d
better warm some more blankets now. How are his feet, brother joseph?”
“a few minutes more on this left one had his feet will be out of all
danger too,” uncle joseph replied.
The man spoke for the first time, whisperingly.”im sure i’m much
obleeged to you all,” “is my pack safe?”
“safe as can be,” answered aunt nannie with a kind smile.
“it’s my living, ma’ma,” said the man, and fell soundly to sleep with
his mouth open.
Uncle joseph shook himself.”well, now,” said he,”since the peddler’s
attended to, poor man, we’d best begetting the cattle on, eben.” And the uncles
bundled again into their heavy fur coats and clambered out, and soon the journey
was resumed. Meantime, the aunts returned to their knitting, after aunt deborah
had put some broth on the stove to heat.
“like as not he’ll want something hot when he wakes up,” she said. There
was an air of relief and satisfaction in the room that one could feel as truly
as the heat of the fire.
Sally sat on the little stool, basking in it, with hannibal blinking
drowsily in the warmth. After a long while dinah appeared from nowhere and
climbed into her lap.
“bad weather for peddling,” said aunt nannie out of the peaceful
silence.
“i suppose, sister,” said aunt deborah,”beggars can’t be choosers. If he
has no place of his own, he must earn his bread winter as well as summer.”
“poor man,” said aunt esther,”i’m glad we found him in time. Half an
hour more and we couldn’t have done very much.”
“it was hannibal who found him, wasn’t it, hannibal?”
said sally from her stool.
“you’re right, child, we mustn’t forget hannibal,” said aunt esther,
learning over to rub the cub’s head for a moment.
“you think he’s good for something now, don’t you, aunt nannie?” went on
sally.
Aunt nannie looked up.
“let this teach us all that we can never judge another,”
she said, solemnly.”without hannibal, the poor man would have died in
his sleep, still sitting on that stone by the road. All the same,” she added
with a change of voice,”he smells dreadfully furry with the snow melting off
him, my dear.”
Late in the afternoon sally looked up and found the peddler’s bright
blue eyes upon her. He was looking at them all, wonderingly-at sally and the
cub, at the aunts knitting, at the painting on the wall.
“now, i call this snug.” He said in a voice that sounded suprisingly big
and deep for such a small man.”whar am i? The last i knowed, i was all beat out
and almost froze a-trying to git to nobleboro. Now here i be in ded and yit
a-moving-like.”
“drink this broth,” he said in a voice that sounded suprisingly big and
deep for such a small man.”what am i? The last i knowed, i was all beat out and
almost froze a-trying to git to nobleboro. Now here i be in bed and
yet-a-moving-like.”
“drink this broth,” said aunt deborah, filling a bowl for him,2 and
sally, dear, bring the gentleman a piece of bread and butter.”
It was aunt nannie who told him who they were and how they had found
him.
“so it was that angel child and her cub-b’ar lighted on me!” he
exclaimed, and before anyone could stop him he had swung off the bed, draped in
a couple of blankets, and limped over to the corner where his pack lay. He
rummaged there for a moment, and drew out a large wooden doll with
carnation-pink cheeks and black painted hair, dressed in the latest fashion.
“here you be, miss,” he said,”at your service. As fine a doll as ever i
carried, and proud to give her to my presarver. And here’s a pepermint stick
for the cb-b’ar, and to the ladies, my humble thanks. Mr. burin is your
sarvint, miss and miss and miss,” he went on, bowing with absurd dignity in his
blankets.
Sally sat with the doll in her arms, for dinah had jumped down from her
lap at the approach of a stranger and slid like a shadow behind the stove. But
sally had no eye for dinah, or for hannibal, holding his pepermint stick
between his paws and licking it delightedly. After a breathless thank-you to
the peddler, she had given a quick look at aunt nannie, but aunt nannie was
smiling. She might keep this wonderful doll, then! She had never had a doll
like this before, only home-made ones that were little more than billet of wood
wrapped in a piece of cloth. But this doll was jointed at the shoulders and body
and knees. She had painted hands and real leather shoes and petticoats like a
person, and eyebrows arching over the blackest of eyes. Her expression was a
little severe, but it did not seem so to sally.
“do you think eunice would be a nice name?” she asked, out of a dream.
“a very nice name,” said aunt esther.
Meantime, mr. burin had gone into the little room at the back to put on
some of uncle eben’s clothes wich aunt nannie had lent to him, since his own
were not dry yet. He came out spry as a cricket, and limped briskly to his
pack.
“i’m so lame,” he exclaimed
cheerfully. “tree fell on me when i was a boy. Killed my brother, it did.
Here’s books, pins, needles, black sewing silk, all colors tape, varses,
almanacs, an’ sarmons, thread, fine trhead for cambric ruffles, here’s varses
on the pirate that was hung on boston common, with a border of coffins atop,
and ‘jack the piper,’ ‘whittington’s cat,’ ‘ pilgrim’s progress,’ ‘the history
of the devil,’ an’a great many other religious books,” he went on all in one
breath.
The aunts hurried to light a candle-for darkness still came easly on
gray days-and were soon handling tapes and spools. Sally found the story of
whittington’s cat and showed eunice the pictures. They were all so busy that
they did not notice when the house stopped, and looked up in surprise at the
uncle’s entrance. Mr, burin had been doing a brisk trade.
“glad to see you so well, sir,” said uncle joseph in his friendly way.
“we’ve arrived at nobleboro, no one here has even noticed we’ve stopped, you’re
so taken up with pretties. Why, what’s that you’ve got, sally?” he asked,
seeing eunice for the first time.”a regular belle, she is. Will you introduce
us, my dear?”
uncle eben’s eyes danced with mischief.2it’s Saturday evening after
sundown, and the sabbath has begun, nannie,” he said firmly.”but i declare,
we’d best do no more. We’re late with our supper as it is. Bring in the milk as
soon as you can, brother, so we can get the chores done and the sabbath
properly begun.”
Everyone hurried to finish supper, for it was the custom to have all
work out of the way by sundown Saturday night. But the storm and the rescue had
delayed everything. It was after seven when the last dish was clean and back in
place. Now it was time for farewell.
“that’s whar i was a-going, and that’s whar i’m now a-getting, thanks to
that thar angel child and her cubb’ar,” he said, a gentle look on his wrinkled
face. “whara’r you be, miss, you know someone is wishing you well. And may that
thar eunice doll remind you sometimes of old burin, the peddler. Your sarvint,
everyone. I have to thank you if i’m alive this night!” and with this the
peddler, with tears in his blue eyes, went off to sleep in the house near by,
where he was well known.
When he was gone, uncle joseph sat wearily down with the big bible open
his knees.
“may i hold eunice if i don’t play with her, please, aunt nannie, just
this once?” asked sally.
Aunt nannie nodded.”just this once, mind, child,” she said.
All too soon it was eight o’clock, Saturday night bedtime. Uncle joseph
came out of his doze, to make a simple prayer, thanking god for having
preserved them through the dangers of the day, and for having permitted them,
by the aid of a wild beast of the forest, to save a human life. They all
said”amen” with all their hearts, and uncle joseph put on his coat and lit the
lantern to take a last look at the tired cattle and the horses. Sally put on
her cloack, too, and went with him, wrapping eunice carefully in a fold of the
cloth. Outdoors they stopped, struck by teh cold stilness of the night. The
trees were black on the silver of the snow, and the barn looked like a cave
under its white roof. Over the house where the peddler slept hung the pleiads,
and tree’s bare branches were drak against a dew of stars.
Then a cow lowed and they stepped down into the cold velvet of the snow.
WAITING FOR JEPTHA
Jeb stood by the window and looked down the narrow path winding like a
brown snake through the wilow saplings on the banks of catlettscreek. It would
be along this path, he knew, uncle jepha would come, his big shoulders pushing
the willow limbs out of the path. In front of him, swishing her long tail,
would be his small redbone hound, lucy. Lucy would not be bringing a pup with
her this time, according to jepha. It would be a while longer. Today, jeptha
had said, he would come to tell jeb how he was to earn the pup lucy was going
to find.
Every time the wind lifted the willow limbs along the path jeb caught
his breath and waited. He held his breath in place. Ever since jeptha the
willow limbs swayend back in place. Ever since jepha had told jeb about earning
the pup, jeb had done little but think of how he would be asked. Maybe, he
thought, jeptha would ask for money, and there were not many ways a boy could
earn money here in the big sandy valley this time of year. From the signs of
the sky, grandma quildy said the water from the creek would rise over the bank
early and flood the bottoms. Ground would be brokne late and there would be
little work in the bottoms until late spring. By this time, jeb would be too
busy raising the garden at the cabin to work for neighbors. Jeptha would be
upriver cutting the tall trees and rifting them to float down to the mouth of
the big sandy river, and he would not be home to help with the garden. Grandma
quidly was old and could not do much work.
Jeb turned from the window and looked toward the fire gate. Grandma
quidly sat in her rocking chair reading the bible. The flames from the fire
flickered a light across the wrinkles of her face and down her long, gray hair.
“grandma quidly,” jeb said, 2do you reckon uncle jepha will sure enough
come today?”
“before dark in the lord’s willing,” grandma quidly said, pacing a pine
split between the pages and closing the book, she looked toward the window and
squinted her eyes at the dark clouds hovering over the steep ridge above the
cabin.
The clouds came every year at this time. And jeptha came from the hills
every year at this time. And always jeb stood by the window and waited. Grandma
quildy would always mumble a prayer that jeptha be guided along the tramroads
to the cabin.
Jeptha was a big man and jeb knew the hills. He had helped build most of
the tramroads. And when the creek swelled early, jeptha would be needing little
help from a book, jeb thought.
There were many things jeb did not undestand about the bible. When he
was younger, gradma quidly had told him that this book had guided his mother
and father up the steep hill-path to the ridge to rest a while. And then the
book had sent him to live with her. This book had a placed a cover of earth
over his mother and father to shield them from the snows of the winters and
from the sun and rains of the summer. One day they were to be brought up from
the ground nad led to a home beyond the clouds, above the mountains. This book
would guide them.
Once jeb has asked grandma quidly if hound-dogs lived beyond the clouds
and seh told him that she could not find any print in the book that said they
did. Jeb told her if they did not he didn’t believe he would care to go there
and she scolded him. He asked jeptha once about it and was told that grandma
quidly’s eyes were failing with old age and she couldn’t see the print in the
book too well. What she couldn’t see she made up, jeptha figured.
“how would you be able to hunt if there were ho hound-dogs there?”
jeptha had said.
This had been some time ago and jeb figured he had learned many things.
But he still believed that jeptas’s knowing the signs of the hills would be all
he needed to guide him home.
It was dusk when jeptha came up the path. The black clouds had opened
and emptied the rain and when jeptha came through the door he was soaking wet.
He walked to the fire and grandma quidly handed him a towel. She told him that
she had been worried about his coming home during time of storm.
“swam the creek with one hand and guided lucy with the other,” jeptha
said, laughing and rubbing the towel through his hair.
The door opened and lucy stood with her nose just inside. She held her
head low and turned her eyes toward jeptha. Her tail made a thumping noise
against the side of the door.
“come in, lucy,” jeptha said, looking toward grandma quidly, knowing
lucy would tracj water across the floor and shake more from her hair.
Lucy came farther into the room. Her hair was parted by the rain from
her nose to her tail. She was the prettiest hound jeb through he had ever seen,
even through grandma quidly had said lucy’s tail was too long for just one dog.
Her hair was the color of the redbird, and her eyes as black as the sparrow’s.
Her tail was long . . . the longest jeb had ever seen on just one dog.
Once jeptha had told jeb that he could have sold part of lucy’s tail. A
man at the timber mill by the name of chet potters had asked to buy it. Chet’s
sister had sent him a bulldog from over in west virginia and it had come to the
hills without a sign of a tail on it. That is, nothing but a short stub.
“now whoever heard of a dog without a tail here in the hills?” jeptha
had said, laughing.
Chet had been kidded so much about the tailless dog that he had offered
to buy part of lucy’s according to jeptha. He had intended to sew part of it
onto the stub of the bulldog’s.
“now whoever heard of a redtailed bulldog here in the hills?” jeptha has
asked. “worse yet, whoever heard of a bobtailed hound?”
it didn’t seem possible, but jeb had seen his uncle jeptha grat limbs to
trees and make them grow and he was not sure. If it were true, then he was glad
that jeptha had not sold part of lucy’s tail. A bobtailed hound would look
funny, he thought. And a good hound could well be judge by the swish of its
tail. This he had heard from jeptha, and jeptha knew all there was to know
about hound-dogs.
Jeb sat at the table waiting for jeptha to eat. Hee was not ungry
himself yet he knew he must wait until his pup. Hound-dog talk had no place at
an eating-table, according to gradma quidly. But when jeptha filled his plate
again jeb became restless and said:
“i want to ask you something, uncle jeptha.”
“not at the table, jeb,” grandma quidly said.
Jeptha finished the plate and pushed it into the center of the table.
“reckon we’ll have to go into the other room to talk,” he said.
Jeb followed jeptha in by the fire grate and when jeptha sat down in the
rocking chair, jeb squatted on the floor. Jeptha filled his pipe and slid a
match over the arm of the chair. He looked toward the other room for gradma
quidly. He knew if he had seen striking the match on the arm of the chair he
would be scolded.
“i reckon,” he said, blowing out a white puff of smoke,
“what you want to ask is concerning this pup lucy is about to find.”
“reckon,”jeb said, scooting closer to the chair.
“been doing some thinking about this pup,” jeptha said. “i tought to be
a powerfull pup.” Jeptha wrinkled his face and rubled his chin. “hound-pup is
worth a heap of money here in the hills. A man from the hills has got o have a
hound-dog. They all can’t have one like lucy, and i fugure this pup to be as
close to her as you can get. Some of the men at the timber mill have asked me a
price already. Chet potters has bid highest so far.”
“maybe he is after the tail,” jeb said, still wondering if it were
possible to graft the tail onto the stub of a bull-dog.
“maybe,” jeptha said.”it’s not my concern to ask what he wants the pup
for; it’s the money he will pay. Once sold, the pup is his.”
Jeb looked at lucy. She was curled close to the fire.
“grandma quidly says the creek will rise early this year,”jeb said.”i
won’t be able to work along the bottoms back to the hills with you and work
until i made enough money to buy the pup.”
“can’t do that,” jeptha said.”got to be someone here to look after ma
and take care of things.”
Jeb looked toward the kitchen where grandma quidly was washing dishes.
He was thinking that if he had to stay home to work, then by rights gradma
quidly should help him talk for the pup. But then, he thought, she had not been
concerned about his getting the pup. Whenever he tried to talk to her about it,
she would say that hound-dogs were men talk.
Jeb looked oward the fire, toward where lucy lay. He knew he could not
bid with chet potters in money. If he could not work for it then there was
little hope of his ever getting the pup.
“there might be a way, thought,”jeptha said.”money is good to have, but
it is not the only thing. Good, hard work goes a long way with me.” Jeptha
filled his pipe again and slid another match across the chair-arm. This time he
did not look up, as if not concerned about what grandma quidly would say.”by
the time i come again the creek will be swollen over the bottoms. Carp will be
swimming upcreek, and you know how i like to take a spell at catching a mess.
Bait is the only thing that slows me down.”
“could get the bait,” jeb said. “losts of it.” Jeb was thinking this
might be the way jeptha had decided for him to earn the pup.”i could get red
worms. I know where they live.”jeb was thinking of the rich dirt beside the
barn, kept warm and soft by the bedding hay he put there during the winter.
“not worms,” juptha said.”worms will not be carp bait. When water covers
the bottoms, worms are brought to the top, out of the ground, and the carp get
all they want. They get independent when it comes to worms.
But. . . say a man was to have some doodlebugs. That would be real carp
bait.”
Jeb thought of the doodlebugs. They were small, white worms similar to a
grubworm im many ways. Their home was undeground, and there was only one way
they could be caught. With a straw. Like the crawdad, they dug into the ground
and left an opening. Once you had found a hole you poked a strraw into it and
twisted the straw around carefully. If the doodlebug was there he would move
the straw you could draw him to the top and grab him. If you twisted too hard
you would push the straw through the tender skin of the doodlebug and kill it.
But the ground had to be warned by the sun before the doodlebug would
stir, and it was early in the year.
The sun was still slow breaking through the leafless oaks on top of the
ridge.
“how many doodlebugs?” jeb said, thinking of the few he had caught last
year.
“maybe twelve,” jeptha said. “not many doodlebugs for lucy’s pup.”
“that’s a lot of doodlebugs,”jeb said,”with the ground still thawing.”
“the pup will be a lot of hound too,” jeptha said.”of course it might be
too much work for you. Bids are in at the mill. I figure chet to stay high.
Maybe it’s the tail, and maybe not.”
Jeb thought of the twelve doodlebugs he would have to catch. And then he
thoght of the hound-pup walking around at the timber mill to be laughed at
because its tail was gone.
“i can catch the doodlebugs,” he said.
“think about it onight,” jeptha said.”if at daylight, when i leave, you
still believe it is not too much work to catch them, you can have a chance to
earn the pup.”
At daylight jeb was more determined than ever to the spotted sycamore
that stood at the edge of the yard. Jeb knew she was judging the wind she could
know how soon the rain would come. Jeptha looked toward the sycamore and then
toward grandma quidly.
“i will be at the mill ahead of the rain,” he said.
Jeb walked as far as the willow grove with jeptha, talking about the pup
all the way.
“i’m depending on you, jeb,” jeptha said, “to watch after grandma
quidly. She is getting old and you will have to do most of the work. These
doodlebugs will have to be on your own time.”
Jeb stood until jeptha and lucy were out of sight and then he turned
toward the cabin. Grandma quidly sat in the rocking chair reading the bible.
“a dozen doodlebugs are not very many, are they, grandma quildy?” jeb
said.
“poor doodlebugs,” grandma quidly said. “taken from the ground to be
skinned on a hook.”
Je didn’t think gradma quidly wanted to talk about the doodlebugs and so
he walked to the creek to gather driftwood. He sat most of the day uner the
wilows listening to the creek water. The sun was disappearing from the slopes
and the birds had begun to chatter. Jeb wondered if the birds chattered because
the sound of the water over the rocks kept them awake. They flew from limb to
limb, as restless as the wind.
Once jeb had thought if he listened long enough he would be able to know
what the birds were saying. But now that he had grown older he knew that he
never would. Nor would he ever understand the talk of the water. Nor would he
ever understand the talk of the water. Jeptha did not know yet, and he knew all
the signs and sounds of the hills. Jeb knew that were many things about the
dark hills that he would never learn.
The sound of the water running over the rocks, jeb thought, was the
prettiest of all the sounds of the hills. It was even prettier than the hum of
the wind through teh trees and it would put you to sleep if you listened long
enough. Sometimes the water was loud, and sometimes so low that jeb had to bend
his ear close to hear it. But it was always there. And it was company to jeb. Sometimes
it was lonely at the cabin with just grandma quidly.
Sometimes jeb caught himself mumbling back at the water. And now he was
saying “poor doodlebugs,” thinking of what grandma quidly had said. As if it
were wrong to take them from the ground,a ccording to the book. He knew he
could talk free here at the creek and the words would not be repeated.
A week passed before the rainy weather broke. The clouds disappeared and
the sun began to sift early through the oaks and shellbark hickory of the
ridge. But it had beeen a cold winter and the ground was frozen deep. It would
take a lot of sun to draw the coldness from the ground. The black loam along
the creek would be the first to warm; it would take the sun longer to break
through the clay on the hillside.
But jeb knew that he would not be able to doodle for the doodlebugs int
he black loam because of the rising water. The thawing of the frozen ground and
the heavy rains had already begun to push the creek over the botrains. His
chance for the doodlebugs would be his only chance. Made soft by the plow of
last year, it would not be as hard as the clay never before turned.
So jeb began to work the hillside above the cabin, clearing the ground.
And while he grubbed the ground of sawbriars, crabgrass, and wild honeysuckle
he looked for doodlebug holes. When he found a hole he lay his grubbing hoe
aside and squatted to the ground, holding his straw. Slowly he twisted and
moved the straw. But the only movement came from the slow wind moving down the
ridge, weaving the straw back and forth. The holes that he found were smooth
and level on top and he knew that these were old holes and that the doodlebugs
had left them with the coming of the snows of last winter. A new hole would
have a fresh mound of dirt around it where the doodlebug had shoved it out in
digging the hole. But there would be little time and he knew that he mst try
every hole if he was to catch twelve before jeptha came.
A week passed before jeb spotted the firt fresh hole. It had been dug
close to the roots of all black oak that stood at the edge of the garden patch.
Jeb stretched on his stomach and eased a straw into the hole. He twisted slowly
and waited. The wind moved the straw and jeb jumped. For a minute he was mad.
And he took a deep breath. He knew that he was too anxious and had been fooled
by the wind.
The next time he cupped one hand in back of the straw to shield it from
the wind, twisted the straw and waited. The straw moved. Jeb eaced the straw
and waited. The straw moved. Jeb eased the straw toward the top of the ground.
He could feel the weight of the doodlebug and his heart beat fast. He spotted
the head of the doodlebug and his heart beat fast. He spotted the head of the
doodlebug above the hole and moved his hand fast to cup it. The doodlebug let
go of the straw and slid back into the hole. Jeb had grabbed too fast, not
letting the doodlebug come out far enough. Now the doodlebug would be wise and
harder to fool. But jeb knew he had to have him.
He eased the straw into the hole again, twisted and waited. But it did
not move. He twisted again and waited. Again there was no movement. Maybe, jeb
thought, the end of the straw had split and could not reach the bottom of the
hole. He was sure that the doodlebug would be at the very bottom. He pulled the
straw out and looked at the end. The end of the straw was feathered and it was
wet. Jeb felt the straw and wrinkled his forehead. He had been too anxious. The
straw had been pushed through the tender skin of te doodlebug and now it could
never be brought out. He thought of the doodlebug lying dead at the bottom of
the hole, picked up the grubbing hoe and moved it slowly over tough pods of
crabgrass. It seemed as though he would never catch the doodlebugs.
The next day jeb’s hopes were higher; he spotted another fresh hole,
this time he moved slowly and brought the doodlebug out. He fumbled it in his
hand and looked at it for a long time. It was like holding a piece of money,
and jeb thought it had been harder to earn.
When evening came he took the doodlebug home, put in a box of black dirt
and sneaked it into his room, hiding it under the eaves of the roof. And when
darkness came he lay awake and listened to the sparrows chatter outside the
eaves. He could not sleep. He thought there was a chance the sparrows knew the
doodlebug was in the box and that when he was asleep they would find a way into
the eaves and get it.
Jeb found the next doodlebug hole under a pod of crabgrass. He had
started to grub the crabgrass away when he spotted the fresh mound of dirt. He
lifted the blades of grass and eased in the straw. And up came the doodlebug.
Before the sun set below the oaks jeb had caught four. This gave him five.
There would be seven more to go.
In three days jeb would have to turn the ground to plant seed, and there
would be no doodling holes left to spot; only the long, red furrows. Away from
the garden patch the ground would still be hard, not loosed by plow, and there
would still be some coldness under the hard crust. There were not likely to be
new holes in that kind of earth. But jeb could not shun his work, own time,
grandma quidly was depending on the garden and so the seed had to be planted in
time.
Jeb sneaked the four doodlebugs to the box in his room. And he went to
bed early. Tomorrow he would have to have keen eyes and watch closer than ever
for new holes.
At daylight jeb stood along the slope of the hill and watched the sun
sift through the limbs of the oak. He bent over the hoe, scanning the ground
closely, until his back ached. When he came to a large pod of grass or
honeysuckle he stopped and lifted the leaves aside searching for a hole. At the
end of the day he had found one. And from this hole he coaxed a doodlebug
almost too small to cover a hook. He put the doodlebug in his hand, covered it
with dirt and walked toward the cabin. Before he was off the slope he could see
grandma quidly standing in the yard, looking toward him.
“jeb”, seh said,”i’m ashamed of you, putting doodlebug in your room. The
house is no place for worms. Something jst told me to look close to the eaves
when i cleaned the room.”
“but grandma quidly,” jeb said, “the doodlebugs are in a box and they
can’t climb out. Doodlebugs can’t climb like fishing worms.”
“where can i put them?” jeb said. “i got to watch them. Uncle jeptha
will be here any day now and i don’t have time to catch more.”
“you don’t have to watch a box of doodlebugs,” grandma quidly said. “i
never heard of a person stealing doodlebugs. Either out they go or the chickens
get them. I won’t sleep another night in there with the thought of worms
crawling around.”
Jeb took the box of doodlebugs from his room and walked into the yard.
He looked for a safe place to hide them. If he put them very far from the house
he wouldn’t be able watch them to the chickens. He looked toward the woodpile
from the window of hs room. This seemed to him to be the only place. During the
day he could take the doodlebugs to the slope with him, and during the nights
when the moon was bright he could watch them from the window. On dark nights he
would have to take a chance.
Jeb made a flat place on the woodpile and placed the box he laid a flat
board over the box to shield the doodlebugs from rain that might come without
warning. And while he placed the box, grandma quidly’s rooster scratched in the
dirt below the woodpile, turning its head sideways and watching jeb. Jeb threw
a stick at it and it ran around to the other side of the house.
“you get my doodlebugs,” jeb said,”nad uncle jeptha will be stringing
chicken on a hook when he comes.”
When night came jeb could not sleep. The moon was gone and cold winds
crawled down the high slopes and shook the limbs of the sycamore. Jeb looked
from the window but he could not see the box. He thought about gradma quidly
saying something had told her the doodlebugs were in his room. He wondered if
it could have been something she had seen in the print of the book. He wondered
if the book had great powers she often spoke of. Uncle jeptha had always made
it from the hills, and at times the weather had been bad. There was a chance
the prayers grandma quidly said for him had something to do with guiding him.
If jeb lost the doodlebugs, he lost the pup. If there was any chance at
all in the power of the book it was worth a try. So jeb knelt beside his bed.
“lord,” he said,”i don’t rightly know if it was you who told about the
doodlebugs being in my room or not. And i wouldn’t be caring if there was a
moon tonight and i could see to the woodpile. You must know, i reckon, that
they are out there. Grandma quidly says you know everything. What i’m waiting
to ask is that you help me watch the doodlebugs until uncle jeptha comes. I can
watch them myself during the day, and if
you can sorta keep an eye on them at nights for me i’d be obliged. In
case you don’t know everything like grandma quidly says, i want to tell you
that i think the danger is in that rooster of grandma quidly’s. He knows the
doodlebugs are there. No matter how hard i try i can’t see the woodpile
tonight. Amen.”
Jeb was at the woodpile when daylight broke. In front, lying on the
ground, was the box. The black dirt was scattered over the red clay of the yard
nad the doodlebugs were gone. There were chiken tracks in doodlebugs were gone.
There were chicken tracks in the dirt. Jeb looked around the yard. The big
rooster flapped its wings beside the house. Jeb grabbed a stick and ran after
him. The rooster squawked and grandma quidly came out of the house.
“what are you doing to that rooster, jeb?” grandma quidly said.
“he got my doodlebugs!” jeb said. “he watched me put them on the
woodpile and waited until i was asleep. You knew all the time if i was to put
them there the rooster would get them. You never wanted me to have the pup!”
“lord help me if i knew the rooster would get the doodlebugs,”grandma
quidly said, wringing her hands.
“lord didn’t help me last night when i asked him to help me,” jeb said.
“the good lord had nothing to do with the doodlebugs, jeb,” she said.
“he had nothing to do with guiding uncle jeptha home, either,” jeb said.
“i asked him to help me and he helped, either,” jeb said.”i asked him to help
me and he helped the rooster. It was a high climb to the woodpile and the
rooster. Ti was a high climb to the woodpile and the rooster couldn’t have made
it himself without a light to see. Chickens are blind in the dark.”
“you have no faith, jeb,” grandma quidly, said wiping her forehead with
her apron.”if you had had, perhaps you wouldn’t have needed the doodlebugs in
the first place. You pretended to have faith last night, but you can’t fool the
lord.”
“and i don’t have time to fool twelve doodlebugs,” jeb said.”how will i
ever get the pup?”
“maybe it is not too late for faith,” grandma quidly said.”but you would
have to believe with all yous heart. Last night you prayed for the lord to
watch the doodlebugs and then you got up in the night and went to the woodpile
to see about them. I heard you. You didn’t have faith that the lord could watch
them.”
“i’ll never get the pup,” jeb said.
“i will search the print,” grandma quidly said.”you search for faith.
Sttrrange things are written in that book.”
On the weekend jeptha came. Jeb was on the hill and it was not until he
came. Jeb was on the hill and it was not until he came down and saw lucy that
he knew jeptha was there. He ran to the house.
“did you bring the pup?” jeb said, catching his breath.
“bring me the doodlebugs,” jeptha said, in a slow voice. Jeb looked
toward grandma quidly and she lowered her ehad.
“i reckon,” jeb said,”there is something o ought to tell you about them
doodlebugs.”
“do’t have to,” jeptha said.”just bring them to me so i can count them.”
“i don’t have the doodlebugs,” jeb said.”grandma quidly’s rooster went
to the woodpile where i was higing them and ate them.”
It was hard for jeb not to cry. Yet he didn’t want jeptha to see the
tears. Tears were not the mark of a man, or for a boy the size of jeb. But he
had worked hard and had not shunned his work. The doodlebugs had been caught.
Grandma quidly just sat with her eyes lowered. There was nothing jeb had to
offer for the pup. Nothing except maybe this faith that grandma quidly had
spoken of. And this seemed very small compared to the box of doodlebugs. Yet it
was the only chance.
“grandma quidly said,” he said,”that faith could be counted same as the
doodlebugs.”
“perhaps. . .” jeptha said. “perhaps that’s what it was.”
Jeb looked down at jeptha and then toward grandma quidly. Grandma quidly
had raised her eyes and looked toward jeptha.
“coming through the hills this morning i had the funiest feeling,”
jeptha said. “as if something was calling my name. I thought it was the wind
through the trees. You know how the wind will sometimes catch in the knothole
of a tree and make a sound that you can reason to be a voice. But lucy began to
wwhimper and she hung her long tail between her hind legs and crouched close to
me. I tried to make out the sound and for some reason i got to thinking of the
doodlebugs. I thought of the work that had been left here to do while i was
away at the mill.
“surely, i figured, this feeling is only from the sound of the wind, and
so i looked up into the tall hickories where this sound seemed to be coming
from. I found a knothole in the tallest tree and waited for the wind to catch
it again. But somehow it didn’t sound like the wind. I’ve never been as keen on
this faith as i ought to be, but i have sense enough to know i’ve been guided
along the tramroads for years without asking. Maybe if i had started earlier
the trips would have been shorter and i wouldn’t have had to lean on ma’s faith
all this time. Faith is a better bait than a doodlebug, jeb, and i reckon the
pup is yours.”
Jeb’s heart beat so loudly that he was sure it could be heard across the
room. Grandma quidly laughed and wiped her eyes. And jeptha walked to the other
room and came back holding the small, red pup. He handed it to jeb.
Jeb looked at the pup. The pup had one eye as black as the sparrow’s;
the other eye was as white as the bark of the sycamore. Jeb looked at the broad
head and long ears. And then he looked at the tail.”look!” he said, pointing to
the stub.”uncle jeptha has sold the pup’s tail.”
“wait a minute,” jeptha said.”how can you sell a tail when there was no
tail to sell?”
“there was a tail,” jeb said.”how can you sell a tail when there was no
tail to sell?”
“there was a tail,” jeb said.”all houn-dogs have tails. There is a part
of it left. Its eyes are not even the same color. They both ought to be as
black as the sparrow,s, like lucy’s.”
“don’t you know what that white eye is, jeb?” jeptha said. “that’s the
mark of the moon. You don’t find it in a thousand dogs.”
Jeptha slid a match over the arm of the chair and gradnma quidly scolded
him.
“i learned it years ago,” jeptha said,”from an old hunter that lived as
close to the mountains as the black oak. Do you know why it is, he said, a
hound-dog howls from the ridge at night when it is not treed? And why it will
set all nighht and bark at themoon, first on the flat, then up the slope, and
then from the highest peak? Not many men would know the dog is chasing the
moon; the dog is trying to find a pup. They know the moon is the sign of the
night and if they can catch it the moon will mark the pup with signs. Not many
dosgs catch it. Most of the hounds give up and settle for an ordinary pup. Lucy
didn’t quit, jeb. She trailed night after night. And that bulldog of chet
potter’s went along the steep ridge and hear her deep voice along the slopes.
She must have climbed the tallest mountain and sunk her teeth in the moon.
“now, i figure that lucy pulled the moon close enough to the peak for
the bulldog to grab ahold. The moon marked her pup with the signs of the night;
a mooneye, the old hunter called it.
“now as for the tail, it was in all rights that the moon give the
bulldog something if he sunk his teeth in, and i figure it was the stubail,
like the one he had. A mooneyed hound is one in a thousand.”
“maybe we could graft a tail on the pup,” jeb said.
“the pup will be stronger with the stub,” jeptha said.
“the fewer limbs a tree has, the more powerfull the trunk. It ought to work
the same on a hound-dog. That’s going to be a powerful pup.”
“grandma quidly,” jeb said,”i think you have good eyes to see the print
in the book with.”
“what made you think my eyes were bad, jeb?” grandma quidly said.
“if i was you, jeb,” jeptha said,”i believe i’d take the pup to bed. It
is small and will need lots of rest for the trails it will run.”
“come on, mooneye,” jeb said, picking up the small pup in his arms. Lucy
followed behind, whimpering and wagging her long tail.
Jeb tucked the covers over the pup and placed its head on the bed beside
his. Lucy curled pu at the foot.
The pup whimpered.
There was no need for the pup to be afraid, jeb thought as he rubbed the
pup’s hair. What it heard was only the wind in the sycamore. Jeb looked toward
the sycamore. Then he looked up the steep slope, toward the ridge. Way above
the ridge he could see the moon.
But jeb could not sleep. During the night the wind became stronger and
the pup began to whine. Lucy kept moving from the foot of the bed to look at the
pup. Each time jeb scolded her and she went back to the foot of the bed. Each
time he had to wait until she circled around and around before lying down. Lucy
always circled before lyind down and jeb thought of the night on the dark ridge
that uncle jeptha had told him the reason.
Dogs had learned this from the foxes and wolves, according to jeptha.
They circled so that if a hound struck their trail while they slept, and got
close, they coul move on. And the hound would circle and circle when he came to
their bedding place, trying to work out the trail. This would give the fox or
wolf time to place distance between them.
The wolf was no longer on the mountains, but jeb had watched foxes
circle and circle when he came to their bedding place, trying to work out the
trail. This would give the fox or wolf time to place distance between them.
The wolf was no longer on the mountains, but jeb had watched foxes
circle nad lie down. But he didn’t see why lucy had to circle and keep him
awake. There was nothing after her.
It seemed to jeb that he had just fallen asleep when lucy sprang from
the bed and woke him. And in the dim light he could see across the floor,
wagging her long tail. The pup tried to follow and jeb held it with one hand
and rubbed his eyes with the other. He squinted and looked toward the door.
He could see the tall shadow of jeptha standing in the doorway. He
patted lucy and walked toward the bed. Jeb could see that he carried something
in his hand.
“are you awake, jeb?” he said.
“yes,” jeb said, sitting up straigter, still rubbing his eyes.
“the wind is high in the trees,” jeptha said.”i am going to go early to
beat the rain. I brought you something to keep while i am away.”
He held out his hand.
Jeb rubbed his eyes again to be sure that the little light from the gray
rain clouds was not fooling his sight. He could hardly believe what he saw. But
there it was. A horn. A hunter’s horn.
“if you are going to train the pup,” jeptha said, “he must be trained to
the horn.”
Jeb reached and took the horn. He raised it to his lips and blew as hard
as he could. He didn’t worry about walking grandma quidly if she was still
asleep. He was too happy.
But the horn didn’t blow.”i can’t blow it,” he said, trying again and
again.”neither can the pup follow a trail yet,”jeptha said.”the horn can be
blown only by a hunter. But you are like the pup, jeb. You have not followed
many trails, so you will have to train like the pup. And when you are able to
blow the horn, the pup will have learned to trail.”
Jeptha spoke to lucy and turned toward the door. Lucy stopped when she
heard the pup whine and jeptha spoke to her again. She whimpered back at the
pup and then turned, stopping at the edge of the door. Jeb could see lucy, her
head low, looking back at the pup. She wagged her long tail and turned out the
door.
Jeb gripped the horn tight. He let his fingers run over the smooth horn
and up the rawhide that was tied to boths ends so that horn could be slung
across the shoulder. He thought of the sweet music of the horn, music that was
inside it. It was a sound that he hadn’t forgotten since the first time he had
heard jeptha use it to call lucy from the trail. Never before had jeptha use it
to call lucy from the trail. Never before had jeptha use it to call lucy from
the trail. Never before had jeptha offered to let jeb blow the horn. Jeptha had
always kept the horn as close to him as lucy.
And now jeb could hardly believe that he held the the horn in his own
hands.
“the horn can be blown only by a hunter”-jeb kept thinking these words
that jeptha had said. And he wondered how long it would be until he would blow
the music of the horn through the tall trees over the ridges and into the deep
valleys. He could see himself standing on the slopes with the horn to his lips.
And he could imagine mooneye fighting his way through the heavy underbrush,
coming in to the sound.
A hound always comes to the sound of a horn-that is, a good hound. A
horn is the only thing that will break a good hound from a trail, even if he is
in sight of the game. Only the horn. And once trained to the horn, the voice
cannot call him in.
Lucy was a hound, and one blast of the horn made her turn. And so might
mooneye, jeb thought. He was lucy’s pup. He was a hound, and according to
jeptha, one hound in a thousand. Not even lucy had a mooneye and she was the
best in the kentuchy hills.
Jeb was so happy about the horn that he had forgotten to walk to the
willows with jeptha. He looked through the window, now, but there was not
enough light to see down the path. He laid the horn beside him and pulled up
the covers. The horn was nealy as big as the pup. Jeb watched the pup curl into
the curve of the horn and lie still.
A FRIEND IN NEED
But why do i have to go to bed so early?” henny kept insisting.
“why, why! Always why!” replied papa.”i’ve answered that question so
many times already. A girl your age needs lots of sleep if she wants to be
healthy. If you don’t get your rest, you won’t do your lessons right. You have
trouble enough as it is, keeping up yous marks in school.”
“but nine thirty is awful early!” henny protested.”you let ella stay out
till ten thirty.”
“for heaven’s sake!” ella exploded.” Ten thirty is early enough for a
girl nearly sixteen years old without your trying to spoil it!”
“aw, heck!” muttered henny.”not a single one of my friends has to be
home that early. You treat me like a baby.”
“never you mind about your friends. Their parents will worry about
them,”papa answered sharply.
“but it’s Saturday night. There’s no school tomorrow.”
“i know very well what night it is.”
“couldn’t you make it ten o’clock, at least?”
papa shook his head.” No henry. I’ve been very patient with you till
now, no matter how many times you were late before. Now my patience is it an
end.
I expect you home by nine thirty.”
“nine forty-five, papa, please!”
“henry! I said nine thirty, and not one minute more!”
papa was getting angry. He shook his finger at henny threateningly.”and
if you’re late this time, you’ll get a licking for sure!”
charlotte couldn’t understand why henny was making such a fuss.”gertie
and i like to go to bed early,”
she remarked.”we have so much fun.”
“yes,” gertie agreed.”charlotte makes up such wonderful stories. All
about two naughty girls, even better than the katzenjammer kids; and every
night she tells me another chapter. The stories are so excitng that sometimes i
just can’t wait till it’s bedtime!
Sarah sighed."ella and i used to have lots of fun too. Remember,
ella, how we used to fix up our make-believe house? Now most times i have to go
to sleep all by myself. When ella creeps into bed, she puts her cold feet right
on top of my warm feet and it wakes me up. But by that time i’m so sleepy i
don’t feel like talking any more.”
Ella put her arm around sarah’s shoulder.”tell you what,” she said
consolingly,”my whole crowd’s getting together right after supper. I promised
i’d be there, but i’ll get home real early. Like old times. Okay?”
“that marcel-waved jules going to be there tonight?”
henny inquired mischievously.
Ella replied unthinkingly.”no, he won’t. He has to stay home and study
for exams.”
“i thought so!” henry laughed.”no wonder you’re so big-hearted all of a
suden!”
ella didn’t bother to answer.
It was nine thrity. Charlie lay asleep in his bed, like a small angel.
In the girls’ room, gertie and charlotte had ceased to giggle and whisper in
the dark, but ella and sarah were still wide awake planning the decoration of a
room in blue. In the kitchen mama and papa sat reading.
At nine forty-five papa laid down his newspaper. “the child must be taught
a lesson,” he fumed. He turned to mama.”no need for both of us to wait up. Why
don’t you go to bed? I know you must be tired.”
Mama pressed her finger tips against her weary eyes.
“i am, a little,” she admited.”but what’s the use? I won’t be able to sleep
till henry gets home.”
“lie down, anyway,” papa urged.”at least that way you’ll get some rest.”
“all right, papa.”mama started for the bedroom. Hand on the doorknob,
she hesitated.”you won’t be too hard on her? You know how children are. They
get to talking, they don’t realize the time.”
On the kitchen shelf, the clock loudly ticked the mintes away. Tne
o’clock! Papa’s fingers strummed anxiosly on the table. So once again henry had
disobeyed him. Despite everything he had said. Well, tonight she’d get what she
deserved! It was long overdue! He stood up, slipped the bolt in the kitchen
door shut, turned out the light, and went to bed.
Tonight all of henry’s friends had congregated in fanny’s house. Fanny
could play the latest songs on the piano, and the girls gathered around and
sang. Most of them could waltz pretty well, too; but they didn’t any of them
know to do the new dance called the foxtrot. Fanny’s big sister and her boy
friend, who were very good dancers, showed it to them. The girls were entranced;
everyone wanted to learn. Fanny grew awfully tired thumping out the same tune
over and over while each girl had her turn at a dancing lesson.
Afterwards, everyone felt hot and thirsty,”let’s go to mrs. Blumberg’s
and buy a penny chocolate soda,” suggested henny. Down in the candy store they
stood around sipping the sweet drink slowly, talking and laughing. Before they
knew it, mrs. Blumberg was shooing them out.”go-go on home already! I gotta
close up.”
In a flash henny remembered. She’d given papa her word!”is it nine
thirty yet?” she inquired anxiously.”nine thirty it wouldn’t be any more
tonight,” mrs. Blumberg replied.”it’s ten o’clock.”
“tne o’clock!” there were exclamations of dismay.
“oh, am i late!””i gotta get home!” “so long, everybody!” all the girlsw
made a rush for the door.
Henny caught hold of fanny’s arm as they ran.”some friend you are!” she
said reproachfully.”why didn’t you remind me? I told you i promised my papa i’d
be home by nine thirty. Boy, will i catch it!”
“ehat do you think i am, an alarm clock?” fanny replied.
Henny was worried. “maybe it won’t be so bad. I’m only a half hour
late.” Papa hardly ever spanked the children. Still, she doubted if she’d be
able to escape a licking tonight, especially after she argued about the time.
Papa had certainly sounded as if he meant what he said. She reached about
desperately for a solution.
All at once she had a thought.
“listen, fanny, how about coming up to my house?”
“right now? Are you crazy?”
“oh, i don’t mean to stay. Just come upstairs with me.”
“i can’t. I have to be home, too. I’m late enough as it is.”
“oh, come on. It’ll only be for a few minutes.”
“whatt difference would it make if i came along?”
“well, papa wouldn’t spank me in front of a stranger- i don’t think.
Then we could sort of explain what hapened, and maybe he wouldn’t be so angry.”
“well-“ fanny debated with herself for a moment and finally gave in.
“all right. But i must go home right away.”
The hall lay in utter darkness. The two girls had to grope their way up
the stairs. No light streaked through at the sill of the kitchen door,
either.”everybody’s asleep already,” henny said in an undertone. Stealthy she
turned the knob, her knee pressing against the door. It did not yield.”how do
you like that!” she wispered fiercely,”i’m locked out! Now i’ll have to bang on
the door and wake everybody up.”
“gee, that’ll make your papa madder than ever. I’m going!” fanny started
toward the stairs.
Henny pulled her back.”you can’t leave me now,”
She begged.”you promissed! Anyway, i’ve got an idea.”
“what?”
“ella’s and sarah’s bed is right up alongside the wall. I’ll knock on
the wall for a signal. When ella hears, she’ll understand. She’ll open the door
for me, and i’ll creep into bed without papa even knowing.”
“do you think she’ll hear?”
“sure!” she felt along the wall till she reached the spot where she
imagined the bed to be.”well, here goes," she murmude, tapping out a
signal.”ta ta-ta ta-ta ta ta ta.” She paused, then tapped a second time. With
her mouth against the wall, she called softly, “ella! Ella!”
the girls held their breath for a moment, waiting.
The door unlatched and opened. A strong arm reached out into the
darkness. Without a word, papa turned his captive over his knee. Whack! Whack!
Whack!
“papa! Please, papa stop!” hanry yelled.
Papa went right on with his spaking. Once, twice, three times more. A
hand tugged at his sleeve. “papa! You’re hitting the wrong girl. I’m henny.
That’s fanny you’ve got there!”
Papa’s hand stopped in mid-air.
Fanny had been too terrified to utter a sound. Now she started to bawl
at the top of her lungs. A light went on in the kitchen, and mama apeared.
“what’s going on?” she demanded. She looked down at the bawling fanny. “and
what happened to you?”
Abashed, papa tried to explain. “it was dark, mama.
I was giving henny a spanking-“
Mama looked around, puzzled.”then why is fanny crying?”
“well, you see, mama,” papa stuttered-“I couldn’t see-it was
mistake-and-“
“he whacked fanny instead of me,” henny finished for him.
Mama gathered the weeping fanny into her arms.
“oh, your poor child!”
papa tried to smile.”you’ll have to excuse me, fanny, dear child. I made
a bad mistake. I didn’t mean-“
henny walked over to fanny and took her hand. She felt awfully guilty,
but somehow the whole thing suddenly seemed very funny. She felt a fit of
giggles coming on. She tried to control herself, but it was no use. She just
doubled over with laughter. In another moment, fanny’s screwed-up face changed
to a smiling one. A moment more, and both papa and mama were laughing so hard
they couldn’t stop.
The sounds of such unusual merriment brought the sisters running. Their
startled eyes bliking at the light. Mama shooed them in.”back to your beds!
It’s late!”
“but why is everyone laughing?” sleepy gertie asked.
“it’s your papa. Such a way to carry on! He’ll have good cause to
remember this night. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. Into bed now,
every one of you!”
henny needed no urging. No sense hanging around to remind papa that he
still owed her a licking.”thanks loads, fanny,” mama went on.”your folks must
be anxious.”
Papa locked the door with what sounded like a sigh of relief.
“oh, papa!” mama shook her head at him in comic distress.”how am I ever
going to explain to fanny’s mother?”
THE YELLOW SHOP
All her neighbors on granberry common advised miss roxanna robbins
against adopting the twins.
“you’re not so you as you were,” miss peters, who lived next door, told
her,” and two children will eat you out of house and home.”
“oh, I guess not,” said miss roxanna.”besides they’re my brother’s
children and I don’t want they should go to strangers.”
“how old are they?” asked mrs. Winterbottom, the doctor’s wife. When
miss roxanna said they were going on nine, she shook her head very
knowingly.”just the age to get mumps and measles and chicken pox and whooping
cough,” she added.
“but they’ve had all those already,” said miss roxanna.
“it says so in this letter.”
“I don’t believe it for a minute,” said mrs. Winter-bottom,”but even if
it’s true, you ought to have your roof mended first.”
“it won’t leak any worse because two more are under it,” miss roxanna
told her,” and they’re coming day after to-morrow.”
So will and rebecca came.
They had been living with her nearly a year. The roof still leaked, but
they all knew just where the rain was likely to come in. they took turns
sleeping in the room with the biggest leak. There was an old umbrella always
kept within reach that could be set up at the first drop on the pillow.
Although they were twins they did not look at all alike. Will had blue
eyes and sandy hair and freckles and he could whistle more tunes than any other
boy in the brick schoolhouse. Rebecca had dark eyes and brown hair and she
could make boats and birds and wind-mills out of paper quick as a wink. Miss roxanna
liked the tunes and paper birds and boats very much indeed, but all the
neighbors said something useful would be more to the point. It was overhearing
miss peters saying this to mrs. Winterbottom that made the children decide to
open the little yellow shop.
It stood down by miss roxanna’s gate and it had been boarded up for so
many years that only a few people remembered that it had once done a thriving
business.
“why don’t we keep store?” they said to each other as they walked home
from their last day of school.
So the next morning they were up early and at work. Will pried the
boards off the door and window and they went inside. It was just the way miss
roxanna’s brother timothy had left it years before.
“it’s jst the right size for us,” said rebecca.
“yes,” agreed will,” and that’s as nice a counter as I ever saw and
those drawers behind will hold a lot.”
All that morning they worked away on it, rebecca with the broom and
dustpan, and will with pail and scrubbing brush. It was spick and span by noon
when scrubbing brush. It was spick and span by noon when they called their aunt
out to see. Although it was so small, it had drawers and shelves and a small
rusty black iron stove with a chimney that stuck out of the roof. Best of all,
on one shelf they found a box half full of clay pipes, an old china teapot, and
two blue glass jars. On still another there was a bolt of red-and-white checked
gingham.
“well,” said miss romana when they showed her,”I’d forgotten all about
that teapot and the jars. Timothy used to keep molasses drops and peppermint
sticks in them, and that gingham looks as good as new.”
That was how the store started, thought if it had not been for silas
bean there would have been very few customers. Silas bean lived down the road
all by himself, and everyone said he was the handiest man for miles around.
That very evening after supper will and rebecca went to see him and tell him
all about their plan.
“but the trouble is,” explained rebecca,”that people won’t come to a
store ‘way off on a back road.”
“that’s so,” said silas bean, puffing at his pipe.
“if we could just get our shop moved over to the sign-post on the
turnpike,” will went on,”lots of cars would be sure to stop.”
“that’s so,” said silas, nodding his head.
“you moved jone’s ice-house half a mile away and it’s five times as
big,” will reminded him.”beside,we’ve got an old cart with blue wheels to hoist
our shop on.”
“that’s so,” said silas bean again, but this time he uncrossed his legs
and put away his pipe.”well, I’ll be over in the morning and see what I can do
about it.”
When silas bean said he would see what he could do about anything, it
always meant business, so in a day or two the neighbors were startled to see
the little yellow shop mounted on blue wheels and creaking down the road behind
solas bean’s white horse.
“sakes alive!” cried miss peters, who had dropped in to chat with mrs.
Winterbottom,”do you see what’s going by?”
“well, I never!” exclaimed mrs. Winterbottom.”next thing we know the
meeting house will change places with the country jail and then where’ll we
be?”
“it’s all those children’s devilment,” agreed miss peters, “and I think
roxanna robbins might be more considerate of her neighbors. But then what can
you expect, adopting two young ones at her age?”
just before the turnpike reached cranberry common four roads met. Where
they crossed there was a small three-cornered island of grass holding a
signpost. The letters on the signboards were not very clear. People often found
it hard to know wich road to take. It was here that will rebecca had decided to
set up shop.
“you see,” will told silas bean,”they ‘most always stop to ask the way
and if we’re right here they may buy something too.”
“that’s so,” said silas bean, backing the horse in neatly. The yellow
shop with its two big blue wheels just fitted in comfortably with enough grass
to spare all round and the signpost rising above it like a tree. Silas bean had
promissed not to send any bill for moving them till the end of the season, so
they had been able to invest in tea, lemons, sugar, pepperment sticks, and
lemon drops. Besides this they had
bought a geranium for the window. It jst matched the red in the curtains and
rebecca’s apron, which miss roxanna had made out of the bolt of checked
gingham.
She had made them molasses drops just like the kind her brother timothy
had sold, and a batch of sugar cookies. Will had picked cherries off their tree
to go in the little paper boxes rebecca had made and lined with rhbarb leaves.
After the blue glass jars were filled, they squeezed lemons and made a
big pail of lemonade with a piece of ice floating in it and a dipper all ready
for their first customer.
Then they sat down in the open door and waited for business to begin. It
seemed a long time before any of the scudding cars slowed down, but at last one
did. It was very big green and black one with a driver in front and a lady
sitting behind with a little dog beside her. They wanted to know wich road went
to oldport. Will told them as politely as he could. Then he summoned up his
courage and said,
“you wouldn’t like anything to-day, would you? We have very nice candy
and lemonade and cookies.”
“and everuthing’s home-made,” added rebecca.
The lady smiled and her little dog put out his pink tongue as if he had
understood.
“well,” she said,”it’s a little early in the morning for me, but sandy
here would like a drink of water and a cookie.”
So rebbeca went in to get the cookie and will dipped out some water from
the pail he had carried down from their well. Sandy seemed to enjoy it very
much and the lady said they would surely stop again soon.
“look,” said will, staring down at the dime in his hand,
“she gave us the same as if it had been tea or lemonade.”
Rebecca laughed.
“I never thought our first customer would be a dog,”
she said.
It happened that fourth of july came along during their very first week.
This was fortunate and they both felt relieved when fine weather was predicted.
By noon on the third, cars were spinning along at such a rate that will and
rebecca decided to invest most of the three dollars and fifty-seven cents they
had cleared so far in a large supply of lemons and botles of ginger ale, root
beer, and sarsapilla. They added more molasses drops and peppermints, till the
old glass jars were full to the top, and their aunt roxanna had made an extra
large batch of cookies. These, with the last of the cherries, carefully
arranged in the paper boxes, made them feel ready for any nunber of customers
next day.
They were up almost before the sun rose over tumbledown mountain, and
breakfast and chores were done before the dew had dried off the grass in the
dooryard. Off they set with their pails and bundles. Soon they were hard at it.
Rebecca squezzed lemons and set out their wares on a little table by the door
while will went over to the store for piece of ice. Even before he was back
with it cars were beginning to stop and ask directions. Soon he and rebecca
were so busy filling glasses and answering questions they heard distant pops
from it was getting. Sometimes they heard distant pops from the direction of
the town, and they knew that means that many of their schoolmates were setting
off torpedoes and fire-crackers.
“they’re making a big noise on the common,” will remarked after one very
loud burst,”but I’d lost rather be doing this, wouldn’t you?”
“oh, my, yes,” rebecca said.”how much money have we taken in so far?”
”two dollars and five cents,” will told her proudly.
”two dollars and five cents,” will told her proudly.
“and it’s not twelve o’clock yet. I shouldn’t wonder if we made as much
as five by to-night.”
Just then they saw a cloud of dust nad in the middle of it a motorcycle
policeman, keeping an eye out for speeding cars. The sight of his uniform made
the children feel a litle sober, even thought they felt sure he wouldn’t be
interested in a shop that stayed perfectly still in one place.
“there he comes again,”said will, pointing.
“he must be pretty hot chsing around in the sun after cars,” said
rebecca.”maybe we ought to give him some lemonade.”
“I guess he’d drink it, all right,” will said,”and we give some to old man
jenkin’s most every time he goes by with the mail.”
The motorcycle policeman seemed very glad to stop a few moments. He had
a pleasant smile and looked much less old and terrifying when he took off his
goggles.
“well,” he said looking the little yellow shop and its owners over,”nice
place you’ve got here. Business good?”
“oh, yes,” they told him,”we’ve had lots of customers already.”
“I have to go chasing after my customers,” he explained with a grin.
“have you arrested lots?” will couldn’t help being curious.
“I’ve done pretty well so far, and this afternoon I expect to do
better.”
Presently, with the pleased feeling that they were on speaking terms
with a person of great importance on the road, they watched him ride away.
Besides all the cars heading out into the country, a great many were
bound for oldport, where that afternoon there was to be a big celebration. This
was in honor of the town’s founding and the governor was to make a speech. When
the motorcycle policeman came by na hour or so later he called:
“better watch out for the governor’s car. I’ve had word to patrol this
road, for he’s on his way now.”
“oh, I wish he’d stop,” said rebecca.
“but his driver will be sure to know the way,” will reminded her,”and I
don’t suppose they’d want any lemonade.”
“I tell you what we could do,” rebecca said after a minute or two.”we
could pick some flowers for him.”
So rebecca went across the road and picked daisies and some blue
chicory. Then she sacrificed the biggest flower on their geranium plant and
tied them into a little bunch with grass for string. It made just the right
size to go in a buttonhole.
“see, it’s red, white, and blue for fourth of july,” she explained to
will.”oh, I do hope they won’t go by so fast they won’t see us.”
Fortunately for them their own motorcycle policeman rode ahead of the
three cars that were taking the governor and his staff to oldport. The two
children stood as close to the road as they could get and made such frantic
motions very much. So their friend slowed down and motioned the others behind
him to the same.
“he’ll be in the middle car,” cried will.
And sure enough he was, smiling and wavig his hat as the car drew up
alongside the signpost.
Rebecca held out the flowers and the governor leaned over and took them
right out of her hands.
“they’re red, white, and blue for your buttonhole!”
will told him, his own face nearly as scarlet as the geranium.
Another smile and wave and he was out of sight.
“he’s wearing them, will!” cried rebecca.
“yes, and he’s stopped here and we’ve tlaked to him.”
Will was saying.”wonder if they’ll be going back this way.”
But that was a little too much to expect even on the fourth of july.
Besides they had sold all their stock of food and drink by six o’clock and
their cash box was heavy with five dollars and eighty-seven cents.
“if we keep on this rate,” will and rebecca told each other as they
closed the shop door and started home again,”we’ll be almost rich by
september.”
But september is a long way from july. A good many things can happen in
between, as they soon discovered.
In fact it was the very next day that unpleasant rumors began to reach
them.
Old man jenkins was the first to give them any warning. He stopped as
usual on his way out with the mail his dog nellie sat beside him on the front
seat of his dilapidated ford car, with the rural free delivery mail bags piled
behind. Nellie was one of their best dog customers and old man jenkins was glad
to stop and chat on his way coming and going. It was from him that will and
rebecca learned how tony, the hot-dog-stand-man, was feeling about them.
“yes, sir,” he told them the morning after the fourth,
“tony’s got it in for you two, all right.”
“what-what’s the matter?” asked will and rebecca together.
“you’ve run off with all his trade, that’s what,” old man jenkins
explained between gulps of lemonade.”he says you catch all the car’s fore they
get to his stand on the bridge.”
“he’s mad because we thought of coming here first,”
said will.”he could have put his stand here long ago if he’d wanted to.”
“oh, he’s mad, all right.” Old man jenkins wagged his head and helped
himself to another cookie.”swears he’s goin’ to get you out of here.”
“but he couldn’t do that, could he?” asked rebecca with a little worried
frown.
“well,”-old man jenkins wiped his moustache thoughtfully with his blue
spotted handkerchief-“I don’t say as he could, and then again I don’t say as he
couldn’t. he’s tricky, tony is, and mean, so you watch yourselves, that’s all
I’ve got to say.”
Will and rebecca were rather sober after he drove off, but they had a
good many customers, because it was a very warm day and lemonade was in demand.
They squezzed more lemons and ladled it out into glasses carefully, but their
thoughts were busy with wondering whatever they would do if tony, the hot-dog-stand-man,
started to make trouble. They were both very much relieved when towards noon
they saw their friend the motorcycle policeman coming along the road.
“hello!” he sang out with a wide grin.”how’s business to-day?”
“fine,” they said.”how’s yours?”
“not nearly so good as fourth of july. I’ve only stopped three cars this
whole morning.”
“that’s too bad,” said rebecca sympathetically,”for you, I mean. I guess
the people in the cars don’t mind.”
“I guess they don’t!” he laghed, and took the glass of lemonade that
will brought him.
“we want to ask you something,” will began with a look at rebecca.”you
know all about roads and-and everything.”
“maybe not quite everything,” their customer put in.
“but ask me anyway.”
“people couldn’t put us off this place, could they?”
will went on.”I mean if someone didn’t like our being right here by this
signpost he couldn’t make trouble for us, do you think?”
“why, there’s nothing in this world someone couldn’t trouble about,” the
motorcycle policeman told them.
“but don’t let it bother you. I’ll say good word for you in court.”
They were too upset by his last word to notice the friendly wink he gave
as he rode off.
“I do wish he hadn’t said that about ‘court,’” sighed rebecca to will.”I
don’t know what aunt roxanna will say when we tell her.”
Miss roxanna robbins said a great many things when she heard about it
from them that night. But she had also heard about tony and his threats from
miss peters and mrs. Winterbottom earlier in the day.
“they say he’s going to the selectmen about it,” she told them,”and he
claims he can put you off because that little piece of land the signpost stands
on is public property.”
“well, the motorcycle policeman said he’d say a good word for us in a
court,”will told her.
But that only made matters worse.
“oh, dear me!” his aunt cried.”I don’t know what I’d do if anything like
that happened to you. Your grandfather robbins would turn right over in his
grave if you landed in court. We must remember he brought you landed in court.
We must remember he brought the brig rebecca three times around the horn, and
it wouldn’t do to disgrace him now.”
“oh, no,”said rebecca,”especially with me named after the brig.”
“and me after him,” added will, not wishing to be left out.
“mrs. Winterbottom even said,” miss roxanna went on soberly,”that people
could be fined large sums of money for selling things on public property. I’m
sure I won’t be able to sleep to-noght for thinking of us all in court and
maybe fined as much as a hundred dollars.”
They were very quiet for a long while after that, and none of them ate
much supper or slept very well that night.
Next morning will was very thoughtful and rebecca’s eyes looked as if
she had been crying.
“you ask silas bean when he goes by if he’ll come and move us back after
his supper to-night,” will said without looking at his aunt’s face.
“well, I guess that’s the best thing to do,” she answered with a
sigh.”it seems a pity with you and the yellow shop all fixed there so nice.
Still, we can’t afford to have any trouble and maybe we can find some other way
to get the roof mended.”
It was beginning to rain by the time the twins reached the crossroads,
but they felt too miserable to remember that this would mean fewer customers.
They opened the shop door and began watering the geranium and set about
their duties for the last time.
Old man jjenkins came by presently and looked sympathetic when they told
him.
“well, now, that’s too bad,” he said,”but I can see how your aunt feels
about it. She don’t want to get in no hot water with the law.”
“that’s it,” nodded rebecca, and she and will gave him extra cookies
because it was the last time.
After he had gone they sat indoors by the window and watched cars
scudding by in the rain.
“let’s light the fire and make some tea,” said rebecca at last.”it looks
so nice to see the smoke coming out of the chimney and perhaps someone would
like a cup.”
Just as they had the tea steaming and ready to pour out of the china
teapot, heard a car stopping.
“it looks like that big screen one with the lady and sandy in it,”will
said, peering through the rain-splashed window.
Sure enough when he opened the door, there they were.
“good- afternoon,” said the lady from the back of the car. “sandy would
like another cookie. But no water,” she added with a laugh,”there’s too much
coming down already.” She spoke to the driver before she turned to will
again.”and I think if you have room for us sandy will again.”and I think if you
have room for us sandy and I will come in and wait in your shop while john takes
the car to the nearest garage. We’ve been having some trouble with it since we
left home.”
So presently the little yellow shop was as full as it could be, with
rebecca pouring out tea on the counter for them all. The lady sat on the one
chair, drinking hers out of their only cup and saucer, and admiring the
curtains and the blue glass jars. In fact all the time she talked about other
things her eyes kept going back to the shelf where they stood.
Sandy could sit up and beg and “speak” for bits of cookie, and this
pleased will and rebecca so much they almost forgot their own troubles. It was
only when the lady said what a very nice shop they had that they remembered it
would not be there very much longer.
“it won’t be here after to-day maybe,” will told her.
“no,” explained rebecca passing the cookies,”we’ve got to go because
tony, the hot-dog-stand-man at the bridge, is going to make trouble.”
“it’s a pity, too,” will added,”for there’s no place on the road as good
as this and we were going to make enough money to get the roof sh-.”
He stopped just in time, knowing that aunt roxanna would not like them
to mention such a thing before strangers.
“I’m very sorry to hear it,” said their vistor, setting her cup down on
the counter,”especially when I can’t remember ever having a better cup of tea.”
Then, after she had looked at the shelf for a long time, she continued.
“I wonder if you’d let me have a look at those blue glass jars?”
rebeccca reached them down from the shelf and stood them on the counter
beside her. Their customer took each one up carefully, turning it slowly this
way and each one up carefully, turning it slowly this way and that in her
hands.
“they look like very olg ones,” she said.
“yes, they are” will told her.” They belonged to aunt roxanna’s brother
timothy and he’s been dead for years and years.”
But the lady kept rubbing the glass with her hand-kerchief and the
chidren watched her curiousy. After a whie she ooked up and smied at them.
“do you know,” she said,”I’ve been ooking for just such a pair of bue
gass jars for more years than you two are od? Do you think your aunt woud et me
buy them?”
wi and rebecca had to go behind the counter to tak this over in
whispers.
“what do you think?” rebecca asked will."maybe she wouldn't like
for us to sell uncle timothy's glass jars."
"still," will reminded her,"you know she'd forgottne all
about them till we opened the shop."
"do you think we'd dare ask as much as a dollar apiece for
them?"
"let's ask her," decided will.
the lady did not think a dollar apiece was too much. in fact she opened
her bag and took two right out. then she began to write something on a slip of
paper with her fountain pen.
"i want you to give this to your aunt, please," she told them
when she had finished and folded it."she will know what to do with
it."
just then john came back with the car and soon she and sandy and the two
glass jars were inside, driving away down the turnpike.
"well, we've made almost as much money as if it had been a pleasant
day,"will told rebecca.
~they were quite happy for a few moments till they recollected it was
their last day under the singpost.
"oh, dear," sighed rebecca for the twentieth time that
day."i do wish something would happen to make things all right
again."
so do i,"
will answered, just as he had every other time she had said it.
just as the last spark had died out of the fire and they were gathering
up their things to go home, they heard the sound of wheels and a voice calling.
it was silas bean and their hearts sank, for this must mean that he had
come to move them back.
he stood in the door looking very tall in his rubber boots and
sou'wester.
"no, i ain't come to move you to-day," he told them
"get in the wagon and i'll drive you home."
"but-but didn't autn roxanna tell you?" they questioned him as
they jogged along behind his wite horse under the big yellow umbrella silas
bean always put up when it rained.
"let's see," said silas bean," seems to me she did say
something 'bout it when i drove by this noon."
"about tony, the hot-dog-stand-man," rebecca prompted,"
and how he's gouing to make trouble?"
"why, yes, that was what she said." silas shook the water off
the reins before he went on:"but i told her not to bother her head over
it."
"but he's going to complain to the selectmen," said will.
"well, let him,"
said silas bean."i just come from makin' a little call on the head
selectman myself."
"you did!" the twins both stared up at him in amazement.
"yes, sir, him and me used to go to school together down in the
brick schoolhouse. so he's glad to do me a good turn every now and then."
" and you asked him to let us stay bu the signpost all the rest of
the summer?" they both asked him in the same breath.
"that's right, and he said there wouldn't be no trouble from tony,
leastways if there is, they'll tell him he can't have his stand by the bridge,
for that's public property, too."
"why, so it is!" exclaimed will."i never thoyught
about that."
miss roxanna was beaming when she met them at the door. she had made a
new batch of molasses cookies and she invited silasbean to stay for supper.
"well, i don't mind if i do," he agreed and went off to put
the horse in the barn.
it wasn't till they were all thought and the dishes done that rebecca
remembered about uncle timothy's glass jars and the slip of paper the lady had
given them, which was still in will's pocket. when miss roxanna put on her
spectacles and read what was writtne on it her cheeks grew very red.
"oh, my," she said,"i guess there must be some mistake.
nobody possibly pay as much as all that for two old glass jars."
"let's see," said silas bean. he turned the slip of paper over
several times, scrutinizing every letter carefully.
"looks all right to me," he said at last,"and i guess
fifty dollars will come in sort of handy to you right now. want me to buy some
shingles and start in your roof to-morrow?"
"oh, yes,"
cried will and rebecca," because we'll have lots more by the end of
the summer."
only miss roxanna hesitated.
"i hope it's all right to take it," she said a little
doubtfully."i don't believe your grandfather and uncle timothy would mind,
but i don't know what miss peters and mrs. winterbottom will say."
"i know," said rebecca."they'll say,"this is what
comes of taking two children at your age, roxanna robbins!"
"that's so," said solas bean.
THE COVERED BRIDGE
animals usually know when people are trying to help them. the big bull,
nicodemos, stopped plunging and struggling as connie slid down toward him, and
stood watching her steadly, his eyes rolling with terror.
"poor nicodemos, good nicodemos," she said, although she was
breathless and the words came unsteadily. she was holding tight to sarah with
one hand, and found it awkward to try to slip the rope through the ring of
nicodemus' halther, with only one hand to spare. she tried, slipped, caught
herself and tried again. the end of the rope slid through the ring and she
scrambled up, holding to sarah, holding to peter, catching at the trunk of the
tree. peter pulled up the rope, holding both ends in his hand, so that he had a
steady pull on nicodemu's halter.
they set themselves firmly, peter with his knees against the
treee."be ready to pull when i say three," he
directed."one-two-three-"
no tug of war for a school championship was ever pulled more stoutly.
even tim lent a hand, although most of what he did was to jump up and down.
nicodemus seemed to have waited for the signal, too. at the first tug on his
halter he heaved himself up for a terrific effort, his eyes wide, his nostrils
blowing out great snorting clouds. his hoofs cut through the ice in one place,
failed to crack the hard crust in another. but the pull on his halter was just
enough to steady him and he came lurching up the hill, slipping, catching
himself, slipping again, but at last, with a fearful heaving and snorting, getting
himself safely on the level ground. he stood with his head hanging, his great
breaths blowing the trampled snow away, and his sides heaving.
they all patted him and comforted him,"poor fellow, good
fellow."
peter said,"he was almost done for."
peter led him down the hill finally, with jock walking beside, to see
that the rescue he and tim had begun so
well was safely carried to its end. then tim ran away home to tell the other
guyer children what an adventure they had missed.
connie sat opposite the fire that evening. she was pleasantly tired, and
confortably satisfied with a full day's work, a succesfull adventure, a good
supper and a long peacful evening. she thought of her them so much that they
seemed part of all this that was around her. she had just finished a long
letter to them on wich she worked every evening, a very pleasant sort of
writing lesson. peter with papers spread out on the table was doing a sum in
arithmetic, one that was not in any of the books:
"if four calves eat a bushel of grain in two days-they would have
to be worth by spring-"
he knitted his brows, the problem
was a hard one. but whatever peter did he did with all his might, and he was
not only going to calculate how much the calves should be worth by spring, but
was going to see that they would actually be worth it. jock got up from his
place on the hearth, because he was too hot, and came over to lie down with a
thump beside connie. he was getting to be a big dog.
he oved her, he loved peter, he seemed to love red-haired tim almost as
much. connie was thinking of the guyer children and she was moved to ask a
question wich had come into her mind a hundred times but wich had always been
pushed away by something else.
"how can it be," she said to sarah,"that there are six
children at the guyer house and three of them are eleven years old and two of them are nine? and i asked tim when his
birthday was and he said he didn't know. so i asked mrs. guyer-and what do you
think, she didn't know either!"
"she couldn't know," sarah answered,"because she ins't
their mother. the biggest girl and tim are sister and brother, but the others
don't even belong to each other,
hereabouts, when children have no homes and no parents, someone takes
them in and all the people in the neighborhood help to pay for their living.
cousin cephas is the selectman who has charge of such things, and he says mrs.
guyer is the best person in the wold to have them. they have come to her house
so young they don't remember anything else. but her hands are very full and she
can't be expected, really, to keep track of birthdays."
connie sat thinking for a long time." sarah," she proposed at
last,"couldn't we give them a birthday party, just pick out one birthday
for them all and bake them a cake? mrs. guyer has so much to do; and you and i
have a lot to do too, but couldn't we find time for that, sarah?"
"we could indeed," sarah answered heartily."not just at
once perhaps. a birthday party is not so nice in the winter asw in the spring.
how would a day toward the end of april do? that will give us a good long time
to be making presents for all six of them. then when the time comes i will bake
a grand cake. i have a pan big enough but you and peter will have to help me
stir it."
cold weather had not really come, even yet, and bright autumn days still
followed, one after another. while sarah and constance were busy in the house
hanging up strings of onions and corn to dry, boiling down apple butter and
pickling eggs, peter was toiling even harder than they to get ready for winter.
early every morning and for the short time after school that it was still
light, and through all of the long saturdays, he worked over in the woods,
cutting winter fuel. cousin cephas, in part exchange for the rent of the
pasture, had sent up a man to chop down the trees that had been chosen, and to
help peter saw up the big trunks. now they must be cut smaller and split, and,
since there was a great amount of it, the wood was being exchanged for all the
things they needed.
on top of the hill above them lived old mr. sam breen," a smart
farmer" as everyone described him, who had raised on his high acres more
corn and hay and apples than he needed, but who did not have any broad stretch
of woods in wich to cut fuel. he was ewxchanging with peter, therefore, and had
already brought them onions and apples, pumpkins, corn and hay, for wich peter
was to bring him loads of wood as they were ready. he drove rather sharp
bargains, sarah said, but all he gave in exchange was fair and good. cousin
cephas was also geting wood from peter and had lent his oxcart and the big pair
of black and white oxen to haul it. peter was to keep them in sarah's barn
until the wood was all cut and carried.
constance used to bring his lunch to him saturdays, across the side of
the hill to the farthest edge of the farm. jock would go leaping and jumping
ahead of her, and theuir feet would slip a little on the smooth bown grass,
sometimes with the frost on it still, even at high noon. the valley below would
look very distant and quiet, half hidden in the faint autumn haze, and the
noise of peter's ax would come very loud to their ears. through the still air.
connie wondered sometimes if she would really know when winter came, but
certainly there was no doubt of it when it actually arrived. every morning when
she opened her eyees she could see the great shoulder of the mountain beyond
her window. there had been traces of autumn red in the woods that covered it,
when she first came; then it was bare and brown with darker patches where the
pine trees grew. and now, one morning still disctint in the midst of the snow.
she sat up and looked and looked. something within told her that sehe was not
to see it rugged and brown again until spring.
it was exciting to come out into the sharp cold, with the snow squeaking
under foot as she and peter set off to school. jock scampered and barked and
rolled over on the hard surface, but peter came tramping along behind them
botyh, looking serious."the snow is earlier than usual," he said."it's
going to be a long winter. and we haven't got all the wood in yet." it
seemedd that the first han't got all the wood in yet."
it seemed that the first day of winter gave one a great deal to think
about. but connie did not think much further than how beatiful it was.
school had been going on long enough now for them all to be fairly well
settled down at their work. connie found, a good deal to her surprise, that she
did notread as well as some of the others, and that her writing was not the
best in school either. but in geagraphy she easily led them all. to have a dear
father coming home at the end of months of absence to tell her all about the
places he had been, to spain and portugal, to the ports of north africa, even
on one long voyage that she thought would never end, to china-all that had
taught her much. his letters, too, and her mother's, told her about the islands
and cities of the west indies, so that she could tell them all that santo
domingo and haiti were on one big island, that there were miles and miles of
sugar plantations in cuba, and that fierce indians and runaway slaves lived on
some of the little islands of the little islands of the lesser antilles. she
could even explain about the trade wind wich was always blowing, and wich had
given the name to the windward and the leeward islands. she must have known how
to make it all very clear, for all the classes stopped studying when constance
anderson stood up to recite her geography.
she was in the middle of the lesson on morning and was standing in front
of the big map pointing to the chief cities of england, when she stopped
suddendly; for there was a stranger at the door. very, very seldom did visitors
come to the little school, and this one was unlike anybody she had ever seen
before.
he was very tall, taller than anyone she had ever known, and had great
broad shoulders and a big chin and twinkling blue eyes. when he stepped over
the threshold, he moved stiffly, as though the years had been hard on his
joints; but as he came into the room he looked like some great rugged tree, so
big he was and so powerful, the kind of tree wich has stood against half a
hundred storms and will stand against many nore. he was bareheaded in spite of
the cold, and he wore a leather jacket.
"go on, little lady," he said to connie who had stopped in the
middle of a word. "go on. it is good to hear of london as just a ankme on
a map, not as the place where king george used to sit among his councilors and
deal out what he called justice to the rebels in america."
"indeed, sir, the lesson was just finished," connie said. she
did not feel afraid of him at all, big and streange as he was. his broad smile,
wich was like a mischievous boy's, would make any person feel at ease.
the man came striding down the aisle between the benches and came up on
the little platform where the masdter's desk stood."now bless you,
jonathan ennis, i've been of a mind, this long time, to visit this school of
yours." he went straight to the blackboard, rubbed out all the neat
figures wich the scoolmaster had set out upon it, took up the chalk and wrote
in big letters:
TODAY IS A HOLIDAY
he looked first at the children with a beaming smile and then turned a
questioning glance at the schoolmaster to see how he would take it. but mr.
jonathan ennis was all smiles also." there is no one else in the worldwho
could come into my school and declare a holiday, no one but you, ethan
allen,"he said." you can have your way wherever you go, for
every person in vermont owes you a debt
of gratitude."
the big amn thrust his great hand through his hair and made it stand out
in all directions.
"when i was a boy," he said,"and use to sit in school
with my legs too long for the bench and the lesson too hard for my wandering
wits, i used to dream of how smoeone might, just possibly might, come by and
step in the door and say to the schoolmaster, "this is a holliday,' i know
you like your school," he finished, turning to the rows of excited faces
above the desks,"for yiou have a good schoolmaster, but no school is ever
the worse for a little change and diversio, but no school is ever tyhe worse
for a little change and diversion, so i propose that we have it. since it is
near noontime, we will all have our lunch first. let's see what you have.can
any of you give a wandering stranger a bite of what you ahve brought?"
they coiuld indeed. out came all the boxes and bags, with crusty bread
and jam, with apple butter, and brown nutty cakes, sections of pie and rounds
of maple sugar. the fire was built up and they all gathered in a circle about
it. when they were all settled and the flutter of surprise and delight had died
down, mr. jonathan ennis made a little speech.
"this my young friends, is mr. ethan allen, the man who has given
vermont-given her everything she has. he has stood for her rights against those
who would have oppresed her on every side. in them war wich set america free
from england, he has fought with courage. he has been a friend of washington.
he has been a prisioner of war. and i am very proud to say that he has long been
a friend of mine, and that he can have anything for wich he asks me."
ethan allen spoke after him."i ask no more than that these children
should have just such a day as i longed for myself, when the spelling book and
the arithmetic became too much for me. now, my friends, draw up to the fire and
set your cheese to toasting and put your apples down to roast. we have
everything here wich should make a feast for a king, for an even better one
than king george. and i have a pocketful of chesnuts to roast among the
apples."
it was a feast indeed, bountiful through generous sharing, varied with
cookery before the fire which ethan allen had learned in soldier's camps,
spiced by such gay talk as kept them all in gales of laughter. when they had
finished eating, he began telling them tales of vermont when it was a young
settlement, not yet a state, and claimeed by both new york and new hampshire as
part of their domain. connie had heard from sarah and peter about the green
mountain boys, the band of young men whose leader was ethan allen, how they had
defended the rights of vermont and then, when the war of the revolution began,
had marched away to defend america's freedom. she had come to undestand that
this great rugged man of the frontier had been more than a soldier, more than a
helper and friend to george washington; that he had been wise in the plans for
vermont's future, that he had advised patinece when she would have quareled
with other states, that he had brought her into union with the other sister
colonies at last. she looked at him, sitting there on a stool before the fire,
long and lean and weather-beaten, an elderly amn but still brave and wise and
full of spirits.
the boys gathered around him but the girls had kept a little apart,
surprised and wondering and whispring questions among themselves. but connie
crept nearer and nearer to hear what he was saying, to listen to the story that
he was pouring out to the boys who hearkened almost without breathing, so
afraid were they that they would miss a word.
"it was one of the times that the green mountain boys had not had
the best of luck, and they were slipping away into the hills so that the king's
men should not catch them. but the recoats were marching in on every side, and
presently we found ourselves between two bands, one coming up the road before
us and another marching from the other direction round the curve of the hill.
we crept into the covered bridge and lay there in the dark, seven of us,
waiting and wondering what would come
next. one hand of soldiers went into camp and we saw them putting up their
tents and kindling their fires. but we could still hear the others coming,
tramp, tramp-
away off along the road. we knew for certain that by and by they would
come across the bridge."
"was it-was it-our covered bridge?" connie asked breathlessly.
"that very bridge you cross every day to come to school. we lay
there in the dark and we whispered together about what to do. i was leaning
back against the wall, and i felt one of the boards give, for some man who
worked on building ti had been in haste and had not driven the pegs that
fastened those boards deep enough. it gave a creak in the quiet and we held our
breath wondering if the redcoats would hear, but they did not. and it gaves us
an idea."
he stopped for a mokment to look at the intent faces in the circle
around him. even the girls were, every one, pressing close now, to hear.
"we pushed the board free-gently, oh, so gently-so that it did not
make a sound. then we pried at another, stopping to hold our brreath when it
crreacked, but the soldiers int he camp never heard. when we amde as openning,
we slipped through it, one after another, and dropped into the stream below.
the pool is deep and we made little sound, not much more than a fish jumping. we
were crouching on the bank below when we heard the second band of soldiers come
across the bridge, tramp, tramp, tramp. one of the riders carried a lantern and
we saw it flash through the opening. he stopped and looked a little puzzled and
said to his comrades that these yankees were bad builders, look at this great
gap they had left in the wall, a man might stumble through it in the dark. then
they joined the others and doubtless all told each other what a rousing fight
they would only slip away over the mountain and wait for a day of better
fortune."
the time had passed very quickly, so that now it was three o'clock and
time for school to close. mr. ethan allen got up and buttoned his deerskin
jacket. he shook hands with every boy and girl in the school."i am glad to
have had a little talk with you," he said."now that all the hard work
is done and vermont is a peaceful state at last, i like to see the young
vermonters and to wonder what they will do. peter macomber, i will walk across
the bridge with you and miss constance, for i am going your way."
they went slowly, ethan allen leading his big black horse, so that they
could talk as they went along. it seemed that he often made these journeys
through vermont, stopping to talk to all
the people he knew."i was always a restless boy," he said,"and
life has not made me any less so. and i know every inch of the green mountains
from north to south, and i lek to pass over them now and again just to find
peace knowing that they are always the same."
he asked them many questions about sarah macomber, whom he knew, it
seemed, and esteemed highly." a fine woman and a brave one," he
remarked."and with the pair of you to help her, she will make good this
plan of living on her farm again. but it is a struggle the first year; wind and
snow,. fire and water-how a farmer's heart goes over them as the months and
years go by; for they can serve him well or they can destroy the good of all
his work. remember that, you two, for it is to meet them."
"are you a farmer,sir?" constance asked.
"bless you, everyone in vermont is a farmer," he
answered."that is how we all live in a new state, for vermont is still new
and has most of her great affairs before her. and no person has ever come to
live here who does not love the land."
he stopped then, for they had crossed the bridge and reached the foot of
the lane."give my highest respects and regards to sarah macomber," he
said,"and tell her that i am glad to see that the spirit of adventure is
still alive in her heart and those of her two stout helpers. give her all the
aid you can. by spring you will know wether you are winning to sucess or wether
the task has been too hard. i pray it may be."
it was on one of the early days of april that constance stood on the
doorstep and actually watched spring come. at least so it seemed. there had
been four days of rain, a thursday and friday so stormy that none of the
children could go to school, a saturday and sunday when the whole calley was
still hidden the heavy dark curtain of the downpour. but early on monday
morning the weather had begun to clear, and now the storm was rolling up and
up, leaving the valley visible, then the sides of the mountain and at last
their bold, rochy tops. connie saw that in those four days the spring had
arrived. the long slope before her was green with new grass, the hillsides,
wich had been dark and gray all the winter, when they were not white, were now
strange color to a living one. a sound came up to her ears such as she had
never heard before, a deep, steady, singing sound, that lifted and dropped as
the puffs of warm wind carried it up the hill."what is that?" she
asked peter, who had come out to stand beside her.
"that is hebron brook," he said. "the ice has broken you
will hear its voice all summer. but i have never heard it so loud as
this."
when they crossed the bridge that morning connie stopped to look down, through one of
the cracks between the boards, to watch the water hurrying past. such haste, such tumbling and foaming
and leaping over the great stones in a whirl of foam! it seemed strange to stand still and quietly above it and see
all that furios hurrying hurriyng, hurrying go on below her, and not hurry
somewhere too. where did it all come from, that there was always so much always
hastening away to make room for more? she watched and listened till her eyes
were fairly dizzy with the whirl below her, and her ears re-echoed with sound.
she could hear it still loud in her ears that night as she fell asleep. she
loved it, wondered about it, listened for it. somehow it seemed to her that she
wo8uld dream of that pluging water every night forever. but she slept without
dreams, as a little girl who has had a busy day is bound to do.
it was on the next afternoon, when she and peter were turning their faces
up the hill to go home from school that they heard a sound wich had not come to
their ears for mouths, the deep rumbled of coach wheels on the covered bridge.
the stagecoach was making its first trip of the season, and the driver on his
tall seat flourished his whip in greeting. that indeed was a sign of spring.
the chickens were laying eggs fast now, the calves were impatient in the
barn, and scapered and kicked up their heels when peter let them out. how big
they had grown, what fine young creatures they were. peter walked behind them
looking very old and dignified, so proud was he of what his animals had
accomplished. cousin cephas came up to see them and he and peter stood for a
long-time, leaning over the barnyard fence and talking grown-up farmer talk
about this thing and that. peter's face beamed as he came in later; evindently
cousin cephas had praised him for what he had succeeded in doing. that was the
day, too, when connie baked a whole batch of bread by herself, a row of four
beatiful, eprfect loaves, that came out of the brick oven the exactly proper
loaves, that came out of the brick oven the exactly proper shade of gold
shading to brown, with a frangrance that can be compared to nothing else, for
freshly baked bread smells better than any other thing in the world. as least
so connie thought.
as she was studying that evening with her books spread out on the table
and peter bent over his arithmetic opposit, she found, suddendly, that the
reading lesson was easy, that she could go through it without any trouble, and
yet, so she remembered, she had glanced ahead at that particular lesson weeks
ago and through how fearfully hard it looked and had wondered what she would do
when they came to it. and now, because she had worked so hard and tried so earnestly
to read as well as the others, it was
not difficult at all. even peter had said it was a hard lesson. why,
thismeant that she could read almost as well as peter. she sat thinking for a
little while, until peter looked across at her and grinned broadly. his face
was thinner than in the autumn and his freckles had faded, although they still
showed. he was taller, too, connie noticed al of sudden. and, how queer, she
was taller herself. last autumn she had rested her feet on the top rung of the
chair as seh sat to study, and now she had them on the lower one.
"what are you thinking about, connie?" peter asked. he did not
often interrupt his lessons to speak to her, but plowed through them to the end
and then tossed his book into the air with a delighted whoop. but the look of
pondering on connie's face seemed too much for him tonight and he said
again,"you have an idea, connie. what is it?"
“why,” answered connie slowly,”i was just thinking that-taht,” she ended
quickly, for she had found the words to it last,”that the thing that makes
spring so exciting is seeing, all of a sudden, what the winter has
accomplished.”
Sarah, in her chair by the fire, put down her sewing.”you are becoming a
wise girl, connie. And that is another thing that a winter on a farm brings
about. People learn to think.” She got up to cover the fire, for it was time
for them all to go to bed. Peter closed his books and yawned. Studying had a
tendency to wear peter out, he put so much effort into it.
“don’t you think, sarah,” constance asked as she put her papers
together,”that it’s almost time for the guyer children’s bithday party, for
that great enormous cake you said you were going to bake?”
“i do,” said sarah propmtly.”i have been thinking of if several days.
Suppose we have them come next Friday. But, mercy, i have little enough left in
the storoom after all this long winter. You must stop and ask cousin cephas on
your way home from school if he won’t bring us up home bacon and flour and
sugar from the village, and let me exchange it for tye wood we have left. What
we got from sam breen wasn’t enough, and we are even short of grain for the
calves and chickens. And see if margaret has any dried currants left, a
birthday cake must ahve something gay in it. I believe the cake will just take
the last flour we have.”
When the guyer children came past to go to school next day the great
invitation was issued. They were dumb with astonishlement at first. A birthday
for all of them? Not just a birthday cake, but a birthaday! Mrs. Guyer had been
very good to them and gave them everything they needed, but she had never
thought of their needing birthdays. Timmy left forth a high squeal of delight.
They all went scampering down the hill, chattering like sparrows. The guyer
children, too, had a message for cousin cephas. In their house also the food
was running low. Would cousin cephas, as part of his duty as selectman, please
see that there was some more sent to them fromn the village of hebron?
They all stopped after school and told him about it. Because the cold
and snow had begun so early nad lasted so long, no one up here on the mountain
slpe had a great deal left. Cousin cephas was going down to the village in a
few days on business, and would have to be away all night, but by Saturday
morning he would come back with all that they would need and would bring it up
the hill on his big cart. Would that be early enough? When connie brought back
his answer sarah nodded. Yes, that would do very well. They would be out of
flour after the cake was baked, but they would have enough bread anyway and
need not bake again until Saturday. But they would not have much of of anything
else.
It seemed like a long week, even though preparations began on
wednesdday. They had to stone the currants and sift the flour and sugar and go
out to find the eggs. A wholebasketful of eggs it would take, but the chickens
did their generous best. It was after connie and peter got home from school on
Thursday evening that they mixed the cake. Just breaking the eggs was a task in
itself. And gracious, what a great bowl of batter sarah had put together. Sarah
stirred, connie stirred until her arms ached, peter stirred until even he had
to confess he was too tired to lift the big wooden spoon for one stroke, then
sarah stirred again. It was all light and yellow and fluffy at least, and was
poured into the big pan wich sarah got down from the top shelf. It had indeed
taken all their flour and sugar, it had practically swept the cupboard clean.
Sdarah sat up to take it out when it was baked and connie and peter stumbled
sleeply upstairs.
Next morning mild mr. Ennis, the schoolmaster, seemeed to feel that
there was some unusual excitement in the air; for the whole school was quivering with it. Some
of the guyer children got their lessons far better than usual, some could not
get them at all, since excitement affects different people in different ways.
Connie, it had to be admitted, was very poor in hers. Only peter kept a steady
head and recited calmly and without mistakes. It was a whole hour earlier than
usual when mr. Ennis rang his bell.
“whatever is the matter with you today, you are of no use to the world
as scholars,” he said.”so i think the best thing to do is just to send you all
home.” His eyes twinkled as he said it. Evidently he had caught the magic word
as it passed from one to another and knew that this was not any usual birthday
party.”and besides,” he added as they filed out,”i think there is going to be
rain again before evening. I want to make sure you all get home safe and dry.”
He stood in the doorway, watching them troop away. Connie looked back as they
turned the corner of the path to cross the bridge. He was still watching,
perhaps anxious to make sure that they went straight homeward and wasted no
time. She waved her hand to him and he waved in return. She was to see him and
know him for a long time afterwards, but she was never to see him again just as
he was then, standing framed in the log doorway of the stout little
schoolhouse.
There was probably not a step of real walking done all the way up to the
house. As they turned into the road near the head of the bridge cousin cephas’
wife margaret called to them a message for sarah and mrs guyer.
“tell them that cephas has gone to town and will be back tomorrow with
everything they need. And good luck to the birthday party.”
The brownies all skipped at the very miention of the magic word and
their feet went pattering over the old board floor of the bridge. Even connie
for once had scarcely time to stop even for a second to look at the white water
whirling past below.
Sarah was all ready for them. On the big table in the middle of the
kitchen was a pile of presents. Sarah and conie and peter had been making them
for weeks, a wooden doll, a carved chain-for peter was a good at wood carving-a
sun bonnet, a pair of knitted stockings, a gay flowered apron, a doll’s
patchwork quilt, treasures over wich the brownies shrieked in shrill excitement
and delight. Then the supper was spread with cold chicken and currant jelly,
the last jar, and hots rolls-such a wealth of good things for lusty appetites.
One would never have guessed that this was the final end of a long hard winter
and that the shelves of the storeroom were as bare as after spring house
cleaning. At last came the cake, with the room darkened and the candlees
lighted and the fire leaping on the hearth. Oh, what a cake! The brownies could
not even squel now, they were so full of supper and of happiness.
“is it real ours, just for us, for our birthdays?” tim asked, in anxious
doubt.
Connie wondered what he would say if he knew that most children are used
to having a birthday apiece and not a sixth shara of one. But the cake was big
enough to do credit to a dozen birthdays, so vast and white it was outside, so
yellow and rich within. Connie had stood up to cut it and peter was helping her
to bear down upon the knife when he stopped suddendly to listen.
It was sarah who spoke,”hark, it’s begining to rain.”
It was not merely rain, but the roar of wind, something like the voice
of hebron brook only louder, much louder, coming nearer and nearer. Sometimes
it rose high, then it dropped to a hoarse bellow, the voice of the gale that
was sweeping across the mountainside.
When people hear a storm coming they must always run quickly and do
something, no matter what. Peter dashed out of the door to the barn, to make
sure the calves would be safe. Connie and the brownies scurried up the stairs
to fasten the wooden shutters, and sarah rushed about below to make fast all
the windows and to bar the front door. Connie, from her bedroom, could see the
storm coming, a great black cloud that blotted out the valley, then the stream
and the bridge, then the hillside, and suddendly was upon the house. The rain
drummed and rattled the shuttered windows, the wind rose and fell. Connie
pressed her nose to a pane at the back of the house, but, although the shutter
was a crack open she could see nothing but blackness outside, as through it
were midnight instead of six o’clock in the afternoon. She turned back to the
room. The brownies were sitting at the table, round-eyed and waiting.
Sarah had taken up the knife and was gravely cutting the next
slice.”even if the wind is high it won’t spoil our cake,” she declared.”hold
your plate, tim; this slice was baked just exactly for you.”
The birthday supper went on, even though the candles fluttered in the
drafts, and the fire dwindled and then leaped up the chimney as the tempest
rose and fell. They all ate, laughed, got up finally and played games about the
kitchen. It was a gay birthday, no matter what was the darkness and noise and
wind and rain outside.
“it will blow iself out,” sarah said finally.” We have only to wait. The
guyer children will get home a little late, but mr. And mrs. Guyer will know
where they are.”
It was indeed just as sarah had said, and the storm with a final roar
swept across the hill and was gone. The rain fell less heavily and finally
stopped. Connie opened a window and the fresh, sweet, wet smell of spring came
in, and with it a new sound.
“that hebron brook,” peter said beside her, tupping at the shutter
fastening.”did you ever hear it sound so loud?”
no, not even sarah had ever heard the brook roar like that.
The clouds were carried clean away and the sky was clear, with stars
coming out. Sarah lighted the lantern and they all put on their cloaks. She and
connie and peter were going to see the brownies home. As they climbed the hill
they saw the marks of the wind everywhere, grat branches snapped off the
butternut trees, twigs strewing the bround, places indeed where the path was
still deep in running water and they had to scramble over the rocks at the
sides. At the guyer house, wich was so high up the hill that it had been even
harder strruck by the storm, the pigpen had been blown over but, fortunately,
not before the pig family had seen safely driven into the barn. But there was a
whole dozen of round spotted pig babies who had been soaked and chilled and
were being warmed before the fire in the summer kitchen. Mr. Guyer, an old man,
went limping about giving directions, lamenting and worrying mrs. Guyer was
calmer, but shelooked anxious and tired.
“i’m glad the storm passed quickly,” she said.”i hope it won’t interfere
with cephas getting back from the village with all the thing we need. I’m
blessed if i have more than three meals worth more in the cupboard. I’ve never
know a winter to last so long.”
The three came down the hill again. The night was growing lighter, for
the moon was coming up. The path was difficult to follow, in some places it was
quite washed away. A tiny stream, wich usually came trickling and murmuring
down beside the path, was now a plunging brook, pouring over it stones,
sweeping around curves with a loud tumult of hurrying waters.
“let’s go down the lane,” constance proposed as they came near their own
house.”iwant to see how the water is in hebron brook.”
Even from there it was possible to hear with what a new voice the brook
was shouting below. It sounded angry now instead of being loud and hurried as
they had heard it dor days. The other wanted to see it as much as connie, so
they walked onward down the hill, the moon above them growing brighter and
brighter as they went.
Not one of them was prepared for what they saw when they reached hebron
brook. Sarah herself had never known such a thing in all the years she had
lived on the mountain and hebron brook had flowed under the covered bridge. It
was beaten into yellow foam and was rolling in great heaving wavews that went
pouring down the bed of the stream. The water was so high it filed the whole
rocky bed; the water had come up and up, so that the wide tossing level of
beaten foam was almost on a level with the floor of the bridge. Branches and
whole trees, torn up bu the roots further abovre, came drifting down and caught
against the beams; for the stream was so high that they could not pass beneath.
A great muddy tanglebegan to gather and hang against the upper wall of the
bridge. It grew larger and larger even as they watched.
They stood staring until peter said, speaking loud to be heard above the
noisy water,” the stream has risen even since we were standing here. It is
going to be over the floor of the bridge in a very little while.”
“but what will all the sticks and tree trunks do?” connie asked.”they
can’t float away.”
Sarah spoke, raising her voice as peter had done.
“they will carry the bridge away. See how they are battering against it
now. If the water comes up even a few inches more, they will sweep the bridge
downstream, boards and beams and everything together. There is nothing that can
save it.”
“there must be,” peter cried.” There has to be a way to save it.”
Sarah answered hopelessly,” once, a long time ago, my husband saw some
such thing was going to happen and he went out to the middle and knoecked off
some of the boards to make a place for the water to sweep through. He knew it
in time, and he managed to save it. But it is too late for anything like that
now.”
The water began to rise more quickly. Peter stood thinking and staring
in the moonlight, saying nothing. The suddendly he exclaimed in a hard, clear
voice that was almost like a man’s,”it’s not too late.” He turned away and went
dashing up the hill.
“peter, come back,” sarah cried.” There’s nothing you can do now.”
Even connie felt that it was hopeless. But she stood there, watching,
unable to take her eyes away. To see the bridge shiver into pieces and go
whirling downstream, what a strange, what a terrible sight. If cousin cephass
were there, could he have done anything? Perhaps not. And cousin cephas was far
away. Had peter gone to call old mr. Guyer? He could scarcely be of any help.
But peter was back, even as she began to wonder. He carried a coil of rope, a
crow bar, the ax from the woodblock and the little sharp hatchet.
“you can help, connie,” he said.” There isn’t much danger for a minute
or two yet.” He ran out on the bridge to the middle. Sarah did not protest, but
followed him with connie close beside. Constance was afraid sarah would order
them back, but she did not. The look on her face was exactly like the look on
peter’s. They would both dare anything to save the covered bridge.
Peter, constance and sarah all worked together desperately, and as
though they were one person. The voice of the waters made a queer hollow
echoing as they stood in the tunnel of the bridge, very different from the wild
free sound they listened to outside. It was sarah who gave directions, for she
had seen the bridge saved once and knew what must be done now that it was
threatened again. But it was peter who was sure that they could save it.
“take the lower side, the wall that faces downstream,” sarah
directed.”it will be easy to knock a hole in the boards there, then we can try
the other.”
A bridge that has stood twenty years, and is built to stand a hundred more,
is hard to tear to pieces. But ethan allen had made an opening in it once, and
peter could do it again. And if human hands could save it, saved it should be.
Peter chopped, ewith great swinging blows of the ax, trying to cut
through the big wooden pins wich held the wall boards in place on the
downstream side. Connie was chopping too with the hatchet. Whenever a board
chopping too with the hatchet. Whenever a board cracked under peter’s ax he
would move forward and leave her and sarah to thrust the iron bar under it and
wrench it free. One plank gave way and then another. Peter climbed up a
slanting beam, steadied himself on one of the cross timbers and knocked the
boards free at the top. They dropped one by one and wrere whirled away like
matches, leaving a great gaping hole on the lower side.
“now the other.” Peter was breathless now, as he climbed down and turned
to strike with all his might at the opossite wall. He chopped steadily, never
wildly, knowing just where each blow should be put. There was a loud crack, and
another, the boards were giving way. But the task was no easy one, the very
force of the water held the planks in place. Peter chopped, the other two
strained and struggled. Connie felt something cold about her feet and looked
down to see that the water was trickling over the floor.
Peter had stopped to draw a breath.”they are free at the bottom, i have
to climb up now and knock them off at the top.” He looked down at the water
coming up around their feret and said steadly.”there’s still time, there’s
plenty of time.”
Sarah nodded. It still could be done if he were quick.
Sarah took constance firmly by the and and led her toward the store.”we
can’t help him now,” she said.
She still held connie’s hand as they turned about to watch. Just as they
stepped off the bridge a deep ripple washed over it and wet connie’s ankles,
but she scarcely felt it.
How she wished she were peter, as he scrambled up a beam, braced himself
on two cross timbers and began to swing his ax.”crack, crack, crack,” it sounded
above the roar of the water. The instant the boards were loosened the stream
began to snatch at them; they fell one after another and went whirling away.
There was a wide opening and the brook was running through, a foaming torrent
all across the floor where they had just been standing, and with peter bold and
trimphant perched on the strong framework above. He left the ax on a beam and
came scrambling toward them. Connie could see how he was grinning with a relief
and she heard sarah breathe a “thank god” that was almost a sob. He had almost
reached the store, and was climbing down, when his hand slipped and he fell. A
curl of water came washing all around him. He struugled for a second. Ti was
connie holding to a beam and catching at his arm, who held him firm, so that he
got to his feet, and came splashing to dry ground.
They all stood watching for a minute, fifteen minutes half an hour. Was
it true that the water had dropped a little? It had. The bridge had been a dam,
an obstacle that the stream would not endure. Now that irs water could run free
again, the stream spread out to flow more smoothly and evenly. It was not angry
now. Hebron brookwas no longer determinedd to destroy the covered bridge.
For a long time the three could not drag themselves away. It was as
though a spell were upon them and a though the bridge was only asafe as long as
they watched it, black and clear in the moonlight, with water glittering silver
as it flowed over the floor. Then at last sarah spoke sharply.
“why in the world do we stand here gaping, and peter wet through?” they
turned and went up the hill, but connie looked back again to make sure,
absolutely sure, that the bridge was still standing.
Theyopened the door of the house and went in, all of them wet, peter
still dripping. Connie stopped in surprise. It seemedd so long ago that they
had left it, that she hardly knew what this thing meant, the big, half-cut cake
on the table and the burnt-out candles. Peter cut himself a slice and ate it.
Sarah was biulding up the fire.
“it’s good that we all like birthday cake,” she observed.
“there’s very little else we’ll have to eat in this house until cephas
comes up to us. And if the bridge had gone, heaven only knows when we would
have got anything, either for ourselves or the poor beasts in the barn. But the
water will go down now, and cephas will get to us before tomorrow is over. Now
drink a cup of hot milk, both of you, and get to your beds.”
When connie came stairs next morning, sarah was making milk porridge
before the fire, but peter had gone out first to see to the calves and then to
race down the hill to look at hebron brook. It was running more quietly, he
reported, although the floor of the bridge was still flooded. The bridge was
standing safe.
“we could get to school if the water is only as deep as that,” peter
suggested conscientiously, but he grinned at sarah’s prompt answer:
“i may let you wade in ice-cold water when i must, but once in
twenty-four hours is enough, i think. Sit down and eat your porridge now. We’re
not in any real danger of starving, but i’ll be glad when cephas comes. And
there’s still some birthday cake.”
People have a way of feeling hungrier than usual when there is not much
food in sight. Connie felt that she could have eaten two breakfasts the size of
that one, and that birthday cake in morning was rather surprising fare. There
was some skimmed milk to give to the chickens. As for the calves, there was a
little new grass for them to nibble, although it was not long enough for them
to get more than one good bite of a tuft here and there that had grown tall in the sun. But they were
delighted to be let loose, to run and kick and jump into the air until it made
constance laugh aloud to watch them.
Sarah seemed to be pondering as to how to make the most of this day when
connie was free from school.”i’ve certainly precious little cooking to do,” she
observed.”of course we could do some house cleaning, but there, the first days
of spring come and go so quickly and are like nothing else in the world. Suppose
we go up the hill to look for wild flowers. The hepaticas will be out.”
They went up the long slope, all three together, with jock galloping
ahead. The little hill brook was pouring down noisily. They crossed it on
stepping stones. How warm the sun felt on their backs and how bright the sky
was! Little yellow flowers were showing here and there in the grass, and even
the silvery green cushions of mullein leaves were beginning to appear. They
came to where a spur of woods stretched out into the pasture. There was clean
and open with the bushes bare and the twisting vines still leafless. Some
little red barries of wintergreen tufts of new moss.
At first connie could not see any flowers, but sarah told her to look
again. Then she began to catch sight of them in the open places on the dark
leaves. There opening to the warmth and brightness, were the hepatica flowers,
their bluish-white cups spreading wide to let the sunshine into their very
hearts, their dark brittle leaves brown among the brown of those which had
fallen from them maple trees to keep them warm all winter. Connie began picking
them, coming across frail pointed blood-root flowers here and there also, but
everywhere discovering more and more of the pale, delicate blossoms of the
hepaticas. She had a great bunch presently, and so had sarah, when peter told
them firmly it was past noon and they must go home.
“he wants to explain to the calves why they aren’t geting any grain
today,” sarah declared.
Constance came slowly down the slope, looking at all the green and blue
and the brightness everywhere about her. The floor of the valley was spread
below her feet; the squares of the fields were all diferent shades and colors,
where they had been plowed or planted or where the green of new grass was covering
the pasture lots. The mountains looked big and near_; the blue of the distant
ones was deep and briliant, cutting sharply into the paler blue of the sky.
Faintly, very faintly, there came up to still, looking and looking, not
thinking, but only feeling. If her half-finished thoughts could possibly have
been put into words it would have been something like this-
“what a pity it is that all the people in the world don’t know how
beatiful it is just here.” And this was what living on a farm was, all this
work, all these adventures, all this beauty. What a great deal for just four
words to say,”living on a farm.” But she would always know what they really
meant.
They came into the house and sarah managed to get a few things together
so that they sat down to something like a meal.”we won’t have many dishes to
wash,” peter suggested cheerfully.
But sarah’s face was grave and she said more than once,”mrs. Guyer said
she had three meals left, didn’t she? Then the brownies aren’t hungry yet. I
wish cephas would come.”
After the work was all done, constance sat down in the big cushioned
chair in a bright pool of sunshine beside the window. She was pleasantly sleepy
and so comfortable. How much they had done the night before, how late they had
all been up! Why, it must have been-her eyes closed. She was awakened by the
creak of wheels and by the sound of sarah’s flinging open the door and
exclaiming,”cephas, god bless you. How good that you are here.”
Connie ran out to see cousin cephas with the big cart and the pair of
black and white oxen. A heavy task it was even for them, to pull that laden
cart up the hill; for it was piled high with sacks of flour and sugar, with
sides of bacon and bags of coffee. It looked as though no one could be hungry
for a year with all that food unloaded at the door.
Peter helped to lift down the bags and bundles, and sarah and connie
carried them in to set them on the storeroom shelves. What a different feeling
it gave one to see the place piled up with supplies again, a safe, happy, powerful
feeling as though there would never be need to be anxious about anything again.
The peter and cousin cephas and the oxen went creakijng off up the hill to
carry the guyers their share. Presently they came down again and loaded the
cart with wood, of which sarah still had a greater pile than she needed, and
then cousin cephas suggested to connie,”perhaps you would like to come down
with us and see what the storm has done. It’s going to suprise you.”
Had something happened to the bridge after all? Connie wondered in a
second of panic. But no, that couldn’t be, or cousin cephas would not have got
up to them. They went down all together, the oxen, with their big careful feet,
stepping sedately down the lane, peter driving them as he loved to do, holding a
stick before their noses to signal whether they were to go slowly or faster,
saying”gee” and”haw” when they were to turn right or left. As they came near
the brook cousin cephas declared that the water had fallen even since he came
up the hill. Was it really only last night that they had fought with the angry
stream and kept it from devouring the bridge? The water was flowing now, in
thin, clear ripples across the floor, not half an inch deep. Jock went rushing
through it, throwing out a great spray on each side. Peter and cousin cephas
splashed across, dry in their big boots; the oxen trod cautiously but seemed
rather to like it. Connie rode over on the cart.
“now”, said cousin cephas suddendly as they halted on the other
side.”just look there at the schoolhouse.”
“but what’s happend,” connie cried.” It ins’t there.”
A pile of boards and logs and broken window frames was all that was left of the schoolouse. A
few hours ago mr. Ennis was standing in the door, wishing them good luck for
the birthday, and now he could never stand just there again. He was safe in his
own house when the storm broke. It was the wind, and not hebron brook which had
brought the building down. It was just as well that they had all gone home
early to the birthday party.
“but where will we go to school now?” connie asked blankly.
“school’s very nearly over,” cousin cephas told her.
“here in the country it has to end early so that thechildren can help
with the spring planting. That’s a time when a farm needs every pair of hands
it can get. And i’ve been thinking that, since more than half of you live up
the hill, you might as well have school in sarah’s big kitchen if she’s of a
mind to let you.”
They went on to cousin cephas’ barnyard where he and peter unloaded the
wood and piled the cart with a great mound of hay which cousin cephas had
thrown down from the loft.” The cattle have been in the barn too much this long
winter and i’m going to turn them out. They’re wild to get to the new grass.
There isn’t quite enough to feed them yet, but i’m thinking up some loads of
hay so they wn’t go hungry.”
Therefore when they went out of the gate and rumbled across the bridge
again, there was a long procession trailing out behind, his big black head so
close to connie’s knee, as she sat in the back of the cart, that she could
reach out and pat him when the oxen went slower. Behind him came the cows, the
nearly grown calves, the whole herd trudging quietly and properly behind the
big leader.
But when they had mounted the hill, when peter and cousin cephas had let
down the pasture bars to turn the cattle in on the new grass, what running
there was, what flirting of heels, what tossing of black heads and rolling of
great eyees, what rocking-horse galloping across the slopes. Jock ran and
barked and swung them this way and that. He was a very proud dog now, this was
his real duty, this was the herd wich would be under his charge as long as he
could drive cattle. The calves raced and skipped sideways, even nicodemos
dropped his head and began pawing the ground in his excitement. Then they all
scattered over the hill, snatching mouthfuls of grass, looking and snuffing
here and there, exploring their old feeding ground, glad beyond the power of
dumb beasts’telling, to be out on the free, wild mountain again.
Connie sat on the edge of the cart thinking how gay and strong and happy
they were until suddendly cousin cephas’ voice broke in upon her.
“i declare, i clean forgot to give you your letter. The coach couldn’t
get over the bridge yesterday and so left your mail at my house. I’ve had it in
my pocket for you since i set out up the hill.”
Constance took it slowly and broke the seal. She was always slow with
letters from her father and mother, to make them last longer. She read-how
easily she could read now-and suddendly was slow no more. Her eyees raced down
the page hardly taking in the words, news of a ship coming in, of a long voyage
ended, of dear ones coming home at last. The final words, above her father’s
name, said:
“i’m coming up to get you by the first coach i can manage to take.”
She jumped down from the cart. Oxen were not fast enough to carry a
little girl with such news within her.
“sarah,” she shouted even when she was a long way off,”sarah, they’ve
come home agai8n. He’s coming for me.”
She stood still, having got the words out, and waited until pter, with a
very sober face, came tramping up the hill.”did you hear, peter? Aren’t you
glad?”
Yes, i’m glad,” he agreed, “but-you will go away, connie.”
That was true, she would go away. All that glorious broad valley, that
long mountain slope, the low house against the side of the hill, thepasture and
the cattle dotted over it, sarah’s dear kind face, peter’s slow smile, when
would she ever see them again?
Her voice sounded chocked as she said,”yes, peter, i’m going away, but
surely you and sarah will let me come back.”
Peter’s serious face brightened into his own glad smile.
“oh, connie think what fun to see the coach stop and watch you jump out
and come running up the hill. Promise me that you will surely come. Cousin
cephas is going to buy two of the calves, but the other one will be full grown
then and we will have our own crop of corn and apples.” He and sarah were never
going to leave the farm now, it was theirs to keep and to make prosper for the
rest of their lives.
A few days went by, while the bright spring seemed to grow warmer and
greener almost with every hour. They did indeed have school in sarah’s big
kitchen, with the brownies sitting in rows on the new benches and sarah coming
in with a big pitcher of milk and a mountain of cookies,”just to break up the
long morning.” Mr. Ennis seemed to be quite as glad to have it broken as any of
the rest of them.
The schoolmaster had saved a few things from the wreck of the
schoolhouse, one of them being the big map which hung now upon sarah’s wall. On
the last morning connie stood up before them all and traced on it the course of
her father’s shiop north from the west indies, homeward bound.
It was the very next afternoon that the coach stopped below the hill and
guard blew his horn, with that deep sweet note that meant someone was arriving.
As connie rushed out to see, there was a tall figure striding up the hill, a
broad-shouldered man with a sunburned up the hill, a broad-shouldered man with
a sunburned face and whith his arms strectched wide for connie to run into
them. It was her father.
The coach would not come back for two days, two beatiful days in wich
she could show him everything tell him all about everything, while sarah
watched them both with her quietly happy face that reflected the joy on
connie’s.
“yes, we’ve made a good winter of it,” constance heard her telling
captain anderson.”we’ve takne care of the farm between us and we know that we
can go on with it. Peter and i can manage, we are certain of that now. I will
be getting older all the time, to be sure, but then, so will he. But i don’t
know how we could have succeeded, either of us, in this hard winter without
constance to help. She will surely come back to us another year, in the summer.
You must promise that she will.”
The moment for going came, the carpet bag was packed, the coach came
rolling up and stopped for them to climb in. The horses started; their hoofs
sounded hollow on the covered bridge and the walls echoed the sound of the wheels.
“that’s the hole peter made,” connie told her father as they rumbled
through. Long slivers of sunlight fell through the cracks in the wall, ran
across connie’s face. She was leaning out, so that as soon as they were clear
of the bridge she could look back up the hill. There they were above, sarah
waving her apron, peter standing so tall beside her, both arms lifted in a last
signal of goodby. He was bigger and broader than old peter, but his dark figure
against the sky looked once more like the peter on the wall of the kitchen
where connie first heard about him, like the peter printed on the snow she ahd
seen on the night of her coming.
Cousin cephas was at his gate to wave his hat and there at the next
crossroads was a tall figure on a big black horse, both splashed with mud.
“look, look!” she cried to her father.”it’s mr. Ethan allen.”
Not many little girls could have one of the great men of america’s
hitory to wave her good-by. A mile further and she sdaw a little gray house on
a hillside, with a plowed field below it and a tall youth going back and forth
sowing grain. That must be dick mcgowan, he had come up the hill once to show
peter the colt he had bought. He stopped to shade his eeyes and watch the coach
roll by.
Yes certainly she would come back to all this. She settled back on the
seat with a happy sigh. You could always think about coming back to a farm.
That was the last beatiful thing to think about, that the valley and the
mountains and the long slope of the hill would always be there, would always be
the same.
LITTLE NAVAJO BLUEBIRD
Doli peeped shyly from the deep folds of her mother’s wide skirts. Her
black eyes shone.
Here was no home hogan, no rounded mud-plasterd walls, no friendly
center fire on wich the suppeer mutton stew slowly bubbled and stramed. This
place was the trading post, a grat room of boarded walls with corners. The
walls were lined with ladderlike shelves filled with hard things and soft
things. At one end were navajo blankets of many numbers, folded and stacked in piles of colors. On the side in back of the
counter were covered with papers the colors of sunset and others were beatiful
with pictures of green growing things.
Doli’s nouth watered for the good food the cans held; she could almost
taste their goodness.
Father was looking at the glass case full of silver rings and bracelets,
coral and shell necklaces, and strings of turquoise. Father stood there, not
talking, not moving, just looking at those things within the case.
Mnother had come to the post to sell a blanket of her weaving and to buy
cans of tomatoes and peaches, sacks of wheat flour and cane sugar, bags of salt
and coffee. If the day was a lucky one and mother received many of the round,
silver money pieces for her blanket, she would buymore things, perhaps candy,
lard, baking powder.
Doli could not remember that she had been to this trading post before,
although her mother said she had. Hobah, the elder sister, had told her of it
many times as they sat together in the shade of the twisted juniper and lazily
watched sun-carrier going on his day-long journey through the blue above them.
Doli was afraid, but very curios. Soon she ventured out from the shelter
of her mother’s many skirts and found a better place between the knees of her
tall father where he stood looking at the turquoise and silver.
She leaned far out from the gateway of his knees, her stiffly gathered
yellow-brown calico skirts petaled flower-like above her bare brown feet.
Turquoise earbobs swung gently against her thin brown cheeeks. Her velvet
blouse was the color of a bluebird’s wing. Her thick black hair was smoothed
back in a fat queue and tied with strings of white yarn, for she was a woman
child and must look and act like mother and like elder sister, hobah.
Doli thought to herself,”this is a great place, this trading post.” Her
heart sang,”beautiful. Beautiful.
Things here arer beautiful.”
Files buzzed in and out the doorway. Mother looked at many things and
marked in her mind those it was good that she should buy. Doli watched her mother
as she bought, one by one, the things she needed.
Through the open door she could see navajo men squatting in the sand.
Slowly, slowly, step by step, doli went over to see what they were doing. They
were paying a game. They drew a circle in the sand and placed small stones
around its line. Two sticks made a little door in the circle of stones. Doli
peeked around the side of the trading post door. There was uncle! He was
playing with the other men. He had three chips which were painted black on one
side. Uncle tossed the chips and they came down with the unpainted side
showing. That gave him one mark for each chip so he could place his little
stick three stones from the door of the circle. The men spoke little. Their
game was silent andswift. Doli liked watching them, but she was afraid to stay
long for fear she might miss something else exciting.
She went around the wall, back to where her mother was buying things
from the trader’s shelves nad bins. Doli stood on tiptoe with her big eyees just above the
counter. Mother’s shopping was a game, too, mother put a bag of cornmeal to one
side and gave the trader some silver pieces from the small pile wich he had
given her for the blanket. Mnother waited a long time, looking and thinking.
Then she put a box of matches beside the cornmeal and paid the trader some more
round money, this time a little piece.
Mother pulled her blanket closer about her. She went outside to the
wagon to get another blanket in which to carry the things she bought. Doli went
with her. They did not hurry going to the trading post was not an everyday
happening. It was a day that had been looked forward to and planned for and it
must be enjoyed slowly. Doli and her mother did not intend to treat it lightly
or hurriedly. Buying thing was fun enough and important enough to take a long
time to finish.
They did not seem to be looking, but they saw the men who where still
playing their game. Uncle was tossing the chips again. This time all the black
sides came up. Each black chip gave three marks, so uncle was good at tossing
chips. His little stick was way ahead. He was winning.
Mother went into the store to unfold her blanket on the counter and put
into it her bundles and bags. This done, she bought a bag of coffe and looked
longingly at some bright velvet.
Doli watched her father. He was not talking to the trader. He was not
looking at the trader was looking at the new bracelet father was wearing.
Father had just finished it this morning before they had started for the post.
He had made it to sell, but know he acted as if he had forgotten that he had
it. Doli looked up at him. Father was playing a game, too. He was playing that
he did not want to sell his bracelet.
The trader was very busy. When he was not taking round silver money from
mother’s pile for the things she bought, he was trying to make father want to
sell his bracelet. Doli ducked her head. She had to put her hand over her mouth
to hide a smile. At last father said, yes, he would sell the bracelet and the
trader gave him four round silver money pieces for it. Father took also, for
good measure, some little brown papers and a bag of tobacco for the cigarettes
wich he liked to smoke.
The trader gave father a square of paper with black marks on it. He said
it was a letter from big brother in the far-distant school land where he had
gone so long ago. The trader made the paper talk for father, saying words of
greeting from big brother, who used to bring her gifts of bluebird feathers and
colored stones. But that was long ago before he had gone to school. Only once
since then had he returned to visit them.
Doli took the candy wich the trader gave her, but the wonders of the
trading post werew gone. She no longer saw the cans of food, the blankets, the
silver-trimmed saddles, the beatiful blue kettles and pans. She wanted to go
home to her sheepskin bed by the friendly center fire. She was tired. She was
hungry, so hungry that she could almost smell the hot, woolly smell of the
supper mutton stew. She rememberd the first supper with big brother the time he
had come back to visit. There was mutton stew that night, but he had not eaten.
He had sat in the shadows of the darkening hogan, not laughing, but quiet with
a kind of anger that was frightening. When he spoke at all it was of a table
and dishes and chairs and beds. Doli had not undestood. What were these things
of wich he talked, she wondered. Why did he want them for this home place wich
always had felt so right?
Big brother’s second going had been in the season of the
corn-growing-large. Corn-growing-large time had come again, but big brother had
not returned.
Doli looked up. She had forgotten that she was here at the trading post.
The trader was looking down at her. He had given her candy. Father spoke to her
in navajo. He said in hislow kind voice,” this white man likes children, i
think.”
Little bluebird pushed against her father’s knees. In english she said
to the trader,”big brother.” It was all the english she knew. Big brother,
himself, had taught her navajo tongue to say it.”big brother,” she repeated
softly, shyly, but with great courage to show him that she was pleased with his
gift of candy.
Tall father moved toward the door. Doli went with him. He lifted her
into the wagon and untied hios horses from the bar. By and by mother finished
shopping and came out with her blanket bundle. She too, climbed into the wagon.
She pulled her blanket high up around her head and from within its shelter she
looked out at the wagons and horses and people around the trading post. Doli
pulled up her blanket but she, too, saw the happenings around her.
Navajos sitti8ng in the door shade looked up from their game and nodded.
Navajos standing by the watering trough looked back and nodded. Father said to
them.”the people speak as they pass. My way lies in this direction.”
It was sun-hot time of day. Far away a whirlwind danced across the sand.
Doli held the bag of candy tightly in her thin brown hand. Father called to the
horses a high-pitched, long-drawn”a-ya-an-na.”
They started toward home. The horses moved slowly along the sandy ruts.
Yucca bloomed by the side of the road. A road-runner a race with the wagon. A
prairie dog sat by his front door and watched their passing. A jackrabbit loped
across the road.
Father sang as he drove along. Doli was sleepy. Her head nodded to her
father’s singing and to the lurchings of the wagon.
It had been a long day. It had been a good day, but now the journey to
the trading post was over.
Yhome hogan was a rounded, mud-plastered house with a blanket-covered
door facing eastward. There were no windows. The chimney was a hole in the
middle of the rounded, mud-plastered roof. The floor was clean yellow sand.
Sheepskins were the beds; boxes were the chairs, and the stove was a hollowed
place beside the stove was used for table.
This was the family hogan, their house, their home, a friendly, happy
place for doli.
When doli and her mother and her father reached home hogan from the
trading post, day had come to cool time. Red rocks were sending out their long
gray shadows to the edges of the sandwash near by.
Elder sister, hobah, had been out all day with the flocks, but now she
was home agai8n. She had turned the sheep and the goats into the night corral
among the pinons. She had carried water from the well. She had chopped wood at
the woodpile and now smoke from the newly made supper fire filled the hogan
door. Hobah was beatiful, tall for her age, slender, and strong. She did
whatever work there was to do, quietly and well, as her mother had taught her.
Now she came out to the wagon to carry her mother’s blanket bundle into
the hogan. Mnother went to milk the goats and doli stumbled sleepily to sit on
her sheepskin bed beside the fire. She told hobah of the happenings of the day.
She told her about uncle’s winning the game that he played with the men and
about father’s selling the bracelet to the trader. She told about the things
she had done and had seen and had heard, but she did not say big brother’s
name. One said with words those things that the eyes saw, but even with hobah one
guarded the whisperings of the heart.
Father came in. He had unhitched his horses and had hobbled them for the
night grazing. Hobah hastened to serve him with food. Mother’s blanket had been
full of good things. Tonight the family had store bread and canned peaches to
eat with the mutton stew. Tonight the strong black coffee was sweetened with
sugar and colored creamy brown with milk from a can.
Fiery clouds of sunset covered the sky and changed the yellow sands of
the drywash to purple and rose.
Hobah moved quietly about the hogan, serving father with food and
helping mother end the work of the day.
Doli was sleepy but not yet was she ready to let sleep come. She sat in
the door of the hogan and let the little night winds wash her face with their
cooling fingers. Far away, far off, in the thickening shadows, she heard
singing. Some stranger singing. At first it was just a singing sound grew into
words of song, into words of the hogan song. Clearly they came across the gray
shadows, the words of the hogan song:
“my hogan,
my hogan,
my happy hogan,
my blessed hogan,
hogan.
My hogan.”
So sang the far rider as he urged his tired horse homeward. Father came
to stand in the hogan doorway. He took up the chant. He sent his singing out
into the coming night to meet the tired rider to sing him home.
Father sang:
“look!
Yonder the hogan,
The beatiful hogan,
The precious hogan.”
Doli gathered her skirts close around her, she hugged her knees in
delight. Father’s singing wrapped her in a blanket of happiness.
“my hogan,
hogan,”
sang father, and the rider answered:
“hogan beatiful,
my hogan.”
Doli turned toward the fire.lighted hogan. She watch hobah’s blue shadow
movi8ng along the wall. It made her think of turquoise woman on her way to the
western waters.
“uncle must tell us again of turquoise woman,” she said to herself; “i
will ask him to tell us when next he comes to my mother’s hogan.”
“hogan, my hogan, my hogan blessed,” sang the far rider.
Darkness came swiftly into the desert. Night came upon the people there.
The family moved their sheepskins out under the stars. One pelt alone
was left inside, not used, not needed. It lay to one side, partly unrolled,
wholly neglected. It was big brother’s bed waiting for him to come home.
Outside, the night was clear and the stars hung low. Mother moved
quietly, unrolling the sheepskins, tucking in the blankets. Doli lay upon her
pelt in the soft, warm sand, in the warm, still night. Mother’s hand found her
hand in the darkness, softly, lightly, swiftly brushing it, like a raindrop,
almost. Doli slept.
The next morning, after sunup, after breakfast, after hobah had taken
the flocks to graze, uncle came riding around the red rocks and up through the
sandwwash. Uncle came riding, his arms held stiffly, elbows pointing outward,
and jerking up and down with the pony’s trotting. Doli stood by her mother’s
loom under the juniper tree, watching him coming. She stood still, waiting,
feeling happy to see him. Uncle was young, almost as young as big brother. He
was gay-acting and gay-looking. He wore tight blue jeans and a bright red shirt
and a big black hat. His hair was long like father’s and he wore it tied in a
fat queue wrapped with long white cord.
Mother was beginning a new blanket. She was stringing her loom. She was
letting doli help her. Mother’s yarn that she had sheared from her sheep, had
spun and dyed, was rolled neatly into balls and was piled on the sheepskin
beside them. Mother saw uncle trotting his pony through the sandwash. She
smiled at doli. She was pleased to see her younger brother coming.
Father was making a silver ring. His workbench was a cottonwood stump.
His tools were a hammer, a sand-stone mold, and leather belows. He sat
cross-legged on the ground with his head bent low over his work, but he heard
uncle come riding around the red rocks.
Work stopped. They waited for uncle.
Uncle lifted his pony into a run until they were just beyond the
clearing of the juniper tree. Then uncle made him stop with stiffened legs in a
cloud of flying sand. It made doli laugh to see uncle’s pony stop so quickly
that it almost sat down.
Now that he had arrived in a dashing way, uncle felt that he could take
his time. So he sat there, looking at the waiting family. Then he got off
slowly, throwing his pony’s reins to the ground so it would not sttray. He
walked slowly to the shade of the hogan wall. He sat down slowly, saying not a
word. His pony, reins draging, began to graze on the sparse clumps of green.
Now all was stillness where but a time before was swift-moving action.
Father came over to the hogan shade. He sat down by uncle. He rolled himself a
cigarette. He gave uncle a little brown paper and his bag of tobacco and a
match. He nodded to uncle, meaning,”you may smoke.” Uncle roled a cigarette. He
lit it, using the match that father used and putting his own match carefully in
the pocket of his bright red shirt. Now both men puffed their tobacco. Smoke
came.two blue lines upward.
Then father spoke gravely to uncle.”greetings, younger brother,” he
said. Uncle answered gravely”greetings, elder brother.”
Doli went near them. She stood shyly by her father, looking away from
the loved uncle whom she wanted so badly to see.”greetings, small one.”
Uncle spoke softly, looking straight ahead. He did not want to frighten
the little bluebird.
Doli, still not looking, put the bag of candy down where uncle could
reach it. She said to her father,”it is a gift for him.”
Uncle took from inside his shirt a small brown bundlle. He handed it to
father. Mother left her weaving and came over to look at the brown paper
package. Everyone looked at it. Then father untied the string. Two deerskin
moccasins with silver buttons on the sides stood proudly in the crumpled paper.
Father took doli in his arms and put the moccasins on her small brown feet.
Doli looked at them. They were beatiful. She felt them.
They were soft to the touch.
Presently mother went to the well for water. She carried a large bucket.
Her yellow-brown skirts swished softly as she walked through the sand. Doli
went with her. Her yellow-brown skirts swished softly. She carried a little
bucket. The loose sands slid into the tiny foot-prints the moccassins made.
Mother filled her pail with water at the well. Doli filled hers. Water
splashed on her foot. She saw it, but she did not feel it. She pushed her foot
out from the flounces of her skirts and poured more water on it. She watched
the water flashing silver on its way down, but when it touched her foot she
felt neither cold nor wetness.
Doli looked up at her mother. Her eyes were big with surprise. The
moccasins were shelters. They were like little houses for her feet. They were
good. They must like her small brown feet!
She and mother walked back through the sand to the hogan. They went
inside. The hogan was clean and cool and quiet. Sunlight came in at the doorway
and lay like a bright blanket on the sand of the floor. Nutton cooked over the
coals in a big black pot. The hogan cat washed its face and shook out its
whiskers to dry. Doli looked up at her mother. They smiled together, a quick little
understanding smile that said.”we are glad to be together in this hogan because
it is beatiful and good.”
. . . AND NOW MIGUEL
i am miguel. For most people it does not make so much difference that i
am miguel. But for me, often, it is a very great trouble.
It would be different if i were pedro. He is my younger brother, only
seven years old. For pedro everything is simple. Almost all the things that
pedro wants, he has-without much worry.
I wanted to find out how it was with him one day when we were in our
private place near the rio pueblo, the river that goes through our farm. I
asked him,”pedro, suppose you could have anything you want. Is there anything
you want?”
“ai, of course.” He looked up from reaching below a rock in the river.
In this way we catch trout, slowly feeling around in the quiet laces beneth big
stones. If the fish comes by, sliding soft against your hand, you can catch
him. Pedro was just learning to fish like this. He looked up, not wishing to
talk.”of course, sure i want something.”
“like what?”
“like not so much school.”
“school-yes. But that is something that you do not want.”
“like i say-not so much.”
“then what is it that you do want?”
“shh!” he closed his eyes, moving his hand slowly, slowly in the water.
It was no good. Even before he took his hand out of the water, i knew it was
empty.
“a good big trout, that’s what i do want.” Pedro looked at me like he
was mad at me, like i spoiled his chance for the fish.”a good one, six inches
big!”
he was mad. He took a stone and threw it into the water with all his
might.
So i caught him a trout. It is not so hard. You lay down with your hand
in the water, in a place where are shadows below the bank. You leave your hand
there for a long time, until the fish see that it is nothing strange. Until
they come by, even touching you. Until you can touch them, even rub them very
lightly. They seem to like this, the fish, for you to rub them this way. Then
when you feel them coming through your fingers, slowly you hold on to them,
slowly but tight. Without any sudden move. And that’s that.
I gave the fish to pedro. It was almost six inches. He was happy with me
again.
That’s the way it is with pedro. One such fish, not too big after all,
and he is happy.
It is enough for him for everything to be like it is.
When the sun shines hot and dry and he can go swiming in the pool where
the river goes around the farm of my uncle eli, that for pedro is enogh.
And when it rains, that too is enough. He is a great artist, pedro. He
sits in the kitchen when there is thunder outside, and all the pictures in his
book he turns yellow outside, and all the pictures in his book he turns yellow
and red and blue with his crayons.
If there is a ball, he will play ball. And if there is not, he will roll
an old tire. No matter wich, he is content.
It would be good to be pedro. But how long can you stay seven years old?
The trouble with me is that i am miguel.
It would be good to be grabiel. He is also my brother, and he is
nineteen years old. Next to my grandfather, and my uncle bonifacio, and my
uncle eli, and next to my father who is called old blas, and my biggest brother
who is called young blas and who wears a badge and drives the school bus,
gabriel is the greatest man in the world.
Everything that gabriel wants, he can get. He explained this to me one
Friday last winter.
All week log grabriel goes to the high school in taos, wich is a very
big town eight miles away, of opne thousand people and many stores that sell
marshmallow candy. This year gabriel will graduate from high school. And that
will be too bad for the basketball team and the baseball team as well as for
the future farmers of america, a club of wich he is president. From Monday to
Friday gabriel goes to school and wins the games there and is a president. But on
Friday he forgets all these things and helps my uncles and my father with the
sheep.
In our family there is always one thing, and that is the sheep. The
summer passes and the winter comes and soon it is easter and the time for
spring; but all the ime, no matter when, there is the sheep. In our house we
may be very happy. Like the time my littlest sister, ffaustina, was born. Or
very sad. Like when young blas was hurt by the mowing machine. But these things
they come and go. Everything comes and goes. Except one thing. The sheep.
For that is the work of our family, to raise sheep. In our country,
wherever you find a man from the chavez family, with him will be a flock of
sheep. It had been this way for many years, even hundreds, my g5randfather told
me. Long before the americans came to new mwxico, long before the americans
came to new mexico, long before there was any such thing here called the united
states, there was a chavez family in this place with sheep. It was even so in
spain where our family began. It is even so today.
And so when gabriel finishes school for the week, on Friday, he goes out
to the sheep camp. There he takes the place of one of my uncles or my father,
and the older man can come for a day or two.
In the winter we pasture our sheep on the big mesa that stretches from
the cliffs on the other side of our river, far, far north, flat and straight
almost into colorado. This wide plain spreads out to the west to the rio grande
river where there is a deep arroyo, a great canyon that goes down, down into
the erath to where the big river flows. The land is owned by the indians of the
taos pueblo and my father pays the war chief of these indians tne cents every
month for each sheep that we pasture. We are very good friends with the
indians. It was not always so, my father tells me, but now we are good friends.
The sheep camp is built into a wagon, so that it can be moved as the
sheep are driven from where they have eaten to new pasture. It has a bed built
in, and shelves, and a stove. No matter how hard it snows or how cold it gets,
inside the sheep wagon it is always tight against the wind and dry and warm.
On this Friday the wagon was in place very near to the rio grande
canyon, almost twelve miles from our house. Gabriel went there with the pick-up
truck, and he took me along. Driving the truck is very hard. There are no
roads. You drive right across the mesa through the mesquite bushes, keeping
away from the big holes and the big rocks. It is wise to drive slow and be
careful. But gabriel did not drive slow, yet he was still careful.
He swung the big truck from side to side like it was a little stick, and
all the time he sang a beatiful song about a red flower.
“miguel,” he turned to me after he had finished with the song,”what’s up
with you? You haven’t opened your mouth since we left the house.”
“me?” i stopped looking at the bushes and the rocks.
“as for me, i’ve been thinking.”
“about what?”
“about how easy it is for you-.” Gabriel swung the wheel, and the truck
skidded in the snow away from a big hole.”well, how easy it is for you-to be
gabriel.”
Gabriel laughed.”easier for me than anyone else in the world. After all,
that’s who i am.”
“but it is not so easy for me-to be miguel.”
“it takes a little time. Wait a year or two, and it’ll be easier.”
“only to wait? Isn’t there something else i can do?
Like-practice?”
“being miguel-it’s not like playing basketball. No, it’s a hard thing to
train for.”
The truck was going faster. Gabriel was looking through the windshield,
his eyes a little closed and tight, like he was looking into the wind. But now
that we were talking about such important things, there was much that i wanted
to know.
“there must be a secret! Some kind of a special secret, isn’t there?”
“for what?” it was hard to talk now, the truck was roaring so much
because we were going so fast.
“how to get to be a president.” I had to yell.” So easy. And when you
«want a deer, you take a horse and in a day or two you come back with a deer.
And the house?”
“what house?” gabriel yelled back at me.
“the ho8se by the cottonwood tree. You’re going to build such a house of
adobe?”
“sure. Someday.”
“and you’re going to become an engineer? At the colege?”
“uh-huh.”
“how?” i had to shout real loud.”how is all this done-so easy-to get
what you wish?” i took him by the arm because he didn’t seem to be
hearing.”how?”
“mike!” he shoved me away, back into the corner of the seat.”lay off.
Coyote.”
I looked off to one side where gabriel nodded with his head. And there
it was, racing away for the edge of the mesa, no bigger than a dog, than our
sheep dog cyclone. He was just a speck, the coyote, moving against the snow.
They are terrible animals for the sheep. Every year they kill many lambs,
sometimes more than two dozen.
They are smart and they are faster than a bird.
But with gabirel driving we were getting closer. There was no more time
to be careful. Into holes and over rocks we went, and i held on or else i would
hit the ceiling of the truck with my head. We pulled closer. I could watch the
coyote, moving like a fist that opens and closes quicker than you can blink
your eyes. A shadow sliding across the snow.
“reach down,” gabriel spoke quick.” In back of the seat.”
I got the rifle that was there and held it. At just the right moment,
gabriel stamped on the brakes. Before the car even stopped skidding in the
snow, gabriel had pulled off one of his gloves, grabbed the gun and was
sighting it. I hardly knew he’d taken it out of my hands before i heard it
crack.
The coyote stopped in the middle of a leap. As if a tight wire was
stretched in his path and caught him. But when he dropped he continued on his
way, not so fast but he still kept going.
Gabriel took his time, carefully holding the animal in the sights of the
rifle. He actually hummed the song about the red flowetr as he took his time.
He tightened his finger on the trigger.
The second bullet stopped the coyote for good. And gabriel laughed. It
was good to kill a coyote. With two bullets, many lambs were saved. Gabriel
laughed because it was good and because it was so easy.
That’s the way it was with gabirel. Everything that he wants he can get.
With pedro, it is the opposite.
Everything that he has is enough.
Both of them, they are happy.
But to be in between, not so little anymore and not yet nineteen years,
to be me, miguel, and to have a great wish-that is hard.
I had such a wish. It was a secret and yet not a secret. For how secret
can you keep high mountains that face me when i first open my eyes every
morning and are the last thing i see in the night.
This way my wish, to go up there-into those mountains that are called
the mountains of the sangre de cristo.
“i am here! Here. The time has come and i am here! I am here!”
the last thing i heard was the clock in the kitchen going nine, ten,
eleven times. So now it must be nidnight or maybe even after. That’s when i
heard it. The cry of the first lamb of the new year. I heard it coming in
through the window of the bedroom, from far away off on the prairie, a little
sound all alone in the wide night that was bright with the moon.
“look what’s happened,” the lamb cried.”me.”
it didn’t speak the words, of course. It didn’t even sound like the
words. The cry of the lamb sounded like my friend juby, at school, when he
tries to yell far away and at the same time he keeps coughing. Not like words.
But it stands to reason. What else could a new lamb, especially the first lamb
born in the whole flock, once he got to his feet and opened his mouth to
baa-what else would he say?
“me! I’m here.”
Without taking my head from the pillow, i listened until i was sure.
Then i folded back the comforter, and slipped my feet out from pedro’s legs,
and took away his arm from around my neck. One would think that pedro, who
sleeps with me in the same bed, was training to be a wrrestling champion, the
way he sleeps.
Without opening his eyes, pedro said,”right away,” for this is how he
wakes up every morning. When he sayd “right away” it means that right away
he’ll get up and have breakfast and go to school.
But he never does. And even though no one believes him any longer, he
still says”right away” when he wakes up, as if it were his morning prayers. The
truth is, to get pedro out of bed it is necessary to pull him by the feet, and
let him fall on the floor, and then bend the mattress in half so there’s no
more bed anymore he can get back into.
Faustina, who sleeps on the other side of our bedroom, she heard me too.
“miguel?”
“yes.”
“i’m thirsty.”
“down here there is no water.” I was underneath the bed looking for my
shoes.
“where d’you think you’re going?” pedro looked down at me from over the
side of the bed. He was actually awake.
“it’s started. The lambing. I just heard it-the first lamb.
I’m going to go and have a look.”
“yah!”faustina hiccuped and giggled.” He’s gonna go look.”
“that’s what you think,” said pedro.
“now’s bedtime.” The way faustina laughed’ way high up, you’d think this
was one big joke.
“in order to grow, we gotta stay in bed,” said pedro.
“you know that.”
“for you, yes.” I didn’t even wait to get dressed. I started out with my
arms filled with clothes.”i’ve had enough growing.”
I was the first one out of the house, where only my mother and big
sisters slept these nights. The men stayed with the flock out in the fields and
in the corrals, sleeping in the sheep wagon and around camp fires, waiting for
many nights now for the lambs to start. And now, surely, it had begun. Out on
the veranda where i finished to dress myself, i heard it even more clearly.
“baa. Aah. It’s me. I’m here.”
“mickey. Waht are you doing?” it was my sister tom asita. She was all
wrapped around with a bathrobe.”it’s not allowed. Go back.”
“i know.” I was trying to put one leg in my pants, while balancing, and
without looking.”i know-but that was last year. Now could be different.”
“no, miquito. Go back!” tomasita hurried down the path, through the
wooden gate to the corrals. And the screen door behind me banged again. I
couldn’t see who it was because my head was all caught in my jersey, because I
was trying to get dressed so fast.
“you’d better watch out, mike, mother’s coming.” It was leocadia helped
me to push my head through the hole in the top of the jersey.”but I don’t think
so. She’ll say you must wait.”
“a whole year more?”
“until morning.” Leocadia pulled the jersey down in the back.”you can see
the new lamb in the morning.”
And she was off after tomasita.
It was not a question of morning, to wait until morning. But to be with
the others from the very start this time. That might make all the difference.
I was putting on the second shoe when my mother came out.
“miguelito!” my mother was surprised to see me yet, she spoke softly for
no one to hear, even through there was no one around who could listen. Only
cyclone, the thing I have to tell you,” I old her.”like the way I worked hard
all the winter. And at school. There was no day in wich there was not a new
star in my book. Yourslef said no one worked harder at the ditching.
That is the time at the end of the winter when all the families who live
along the same irrigation ditch come together to clean up the ditch. This is in
order to make everything ready for when the fields are plowed and the seed is
plated. Then to get water coming down the ditch and onto the fields, it is best
to have all the rocks and bushes and mud from the winter out of the ditch.
There are many families on our ditch, more than a dozen, stretching from
where we live to our village of los cordovas. But concerning the ditch,
everyone listens to mr. Martinez, who is of my mother’s family, for he is the
mayor domo of the ditch. In english this means he is the ditch boss, and amoung
us a new one is elected every year to tell each family what to do, and how many
days of water into his own fields.
At ditching time each family is supposed to bring so many men to work
for so many days. And my father let me stay home from school in order that I,
too, could go along to help. Mr. Martinez in order that I should be counted
three quarters of a man at least. But when he did so, everyone laughed,
including my father, because at ditching time everyone does laugh most of the
time, and there is a lot of siging as well as wine and other things to drink.
The question though was settled fine. It was agreed that even though I
would remain one half a man, since the next day was Saturday and I didn’t have
to go to school, I would be allowed to work two full days. So that I did end up
being counted as one whole man. This was perfect for me, and better for
everyone since fractions are hard to keep straight anyway.
To prove it was no mistake I worked as good as I could, using only the
biggest shovels and the biggest pickaxes. So that my mother that night made me
eat a third mutton chop, just like the older men, because I had worked so hard.
And I ate it, too, easily.
And now, when I reminded her, she remembered it all.
“I know,” she said.”you already have become one whole man, miguel. But
even a whole man must learn to wait until his time comes. He can work, and he
can to wait until his time comes. He can work, and he can prepare, but he must
know how to wait, too.”
“I’ve learned ow to wait until morning?”
“another year. That’s how long it will be. This time comes just once
every year.”
“miguel!” my mother stopped me. She held me by the chin, tight. She
wiped her apron at my eyes.”I have watched you using all your strength to open
the gate to the barnyard, the one from wich the big stone hangs. But this is
not like a gate. To become something different from what you are, it takes more
than being strong. Even me speak.”go back with the others, with faustina and pedro.”
“they will be glad to see me!” I kicked off one of my shoes. Not hard.
Just enough to hit the door a good bang.
“back to bed or we’ll see about this!” when my mother says, we’ll see
about this, some times it can hurt. I picked up my shoe and started into the
house. When I looked back she was untying cyclone, who was barking, so that
even he could go.
Everybody, even the dog, got out that night to see the first lamb.
“and you,” said pedro. He was waiting for me with a smile on his
face.”did you get a good look?”
I didn’t answer. With my shoe, I took aim at the floor and let it go.
First one, then the other. What difference how much noise I made?
“okay!” yelled faustina.”okay. okeydokee!” every few days faustina
learns a new word, and then that’s the only word she uses. It doesn’t mean
anything.
“it’s sure nice when someone grows enough.” Pedro kept tlking behing my
back. I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling off my clothes, and he kept talking
and laughing.”everything’s sure nice. They get up in the middle of the night.
Just like that. Go where they want. Whoopee!” he lay on his back and kicked his
feet in the air.
“okydokee!” faustina squealed till she had no more breath.
“shut up!” I gave a shout, louder than both of them. When they quieted
down, I pointed out the window.
“you see out there, far, far away out there.” They both crawled across
their beds and looked out in the night.
“what is?” asked faustina.
“you mean the mountains?” said pedro looking where I was pointing.
“yes. The mountains. The sangre de cristo. You know what’s in those
mountains?”
“clouds,” said faustina.
“don’t be crazy,” pedro told her.”clouds in the mountains! Clouds are in
the sky.”
“they come from the mountains. I see them every day, every day, every
day.”
“you’re crazy every day.” Pedro tried to stop her.
I stopped pedro.”I’ll tell you what’s in those mountains. The biggest
fish anywhere, and when they’re cooked they taste like the best salted peanuts
together with roasted marshmallows. And the best hunting, wild turkeys and bears
to shoot at. And camping out every day. And every night getting up whenever you
feel like it. And cooking whatever you want to eat.”
“sopaipillas with jelly?” these were sort of a puffed-up kind of
biscuits and they were what faustina liked best.
“yes,” I told her.
“what else?” she saked.
“up there are pools to swim in, with waterfalls coming down that you can
slide in like a sled going down hill in the winter. Only to slide down in the
water into a big pool is forty times better. Up there is never hot in the
summer. On the very top of each mountain there is snow, like it was a big bunch
of ice cream piled up.”
“what flavor?” asked faustina.”chocolate?”
“no flavor.”
“how does it taste then?”
“it tastes cool.”
“that’s all?”
“that’s all.”
“okay,” said faustina.
“what else?” said pedro.
“and up there are no mountains higher than where you are. When you look
up, all you see is the sky. And the air is so clear every breath makes you fill
up like a balloon. And when you look down you see everything. The whole rio
grande valley, almost the whole of all of new mexico. No one can see more, or
feel better than up there.”
Faustina and pedro kept looking at me even though I stopped talking and
the only noise was cyclone barking, out there where the family was with the new
lamb.
“what else can there be? That’s everything.”
“so?” pedro looked at me.”what’s about it?”
now wasw the time. For many years it had been a secret that I kept only
to myself. A secret of only one person after a while gets too hard to keep. To
make it real you have to tell someone else, even though they laugh at you,
you’ve got to tell. Otherwise, all you got left is just one small, dried-up
secret that’s not worth anything.
“I’m going up there.”
“ to the sangre de cristo?”
“yes.”
“okay,” said faustina. And she started to crawl back to her pillow.
“sure,” said pedro.”some day. We all go.”
“not someday. I go with the others this year. This here year!”
they both stopped from getting under the covers and looked at me. They
didn’t laugh.
“how do you know!” asked faustina.
“I will arrange it myself.”
“arrange. That’s not the way.” Pedro shook his head.
“first you got to know how to do everything. Then when you get into high
school, or sometime like that, then it happens.”
“sure,” said faustina as if she knew what was all about.
“it never happens when anyone is so little like us,”
pedro said.
“like who?”
“us.”
“that’s you,” I told him.”us-that’s not me. You and faustina are us. But
me-I’m miguel. And what I say is this. I’m going.”
“how?”
what could I say? I sid,” I have made a plan.”
This was a big surprise to them both. They looked at me like I just grew
wings.
“your own plan?” pedro crawled back to the side of the bed. I nodded my
head, yes.”like what?”
what could I say? I said,” a first-class plan. But I can’t tell you
about it. You’ll see how it works.”
“when?” yelled faustina.”how soon? When can we see?”
“it starts tomorrow.”
“tomorrow!” pedro yelled, too. With no one in the house, there was no
reason not to make a noise.”tomorrow begins the plan? And you know how it all
works, everything?”
“everything.”
“wango!” pedro made like he was throwing rocks all over the bedroom, he
was so excited.”this is better than anything. This is as good like when we got
the new trctor!”
“okay,” faustina squealed.”okeydokee!”
I laughed and yelled, too. It got so I thought I did have a plan, a
real, good one. And everything was fixed so it would be all right now. We had a
good time making a lot of noise. Pedro climbed up the back of the bed, the iron
part where there are bumps and flowers.
“look at me! I’m miguel. I’m way up high. Miguel standing right on top
of the mountains.”
“I just remembered,”yelled faustina.
“what?”
“I’m thirsty.”
I went and got her a glass of water from the kitchen. Then I put out the
lights and undresses and got into bed.
In the quiet, I rememberd. I didn’t have any plan.
In the quiet I heard them beyond the corral, cyclone barking and the
lamb making its kind of noise and the ewe making her kind of noise. All I could
do was listen.
But even so, it was good. I had explained the secret.
I had come out, like from behind the bushes when we play the bandits
robbing shaeffer’s drugstore, wich is a drugstore in taos and a game we play at
school. I had come out from behind the bushes and that meant, at least, that
something had begun. And now that it had begun, I took one good look at the
mountains through the window and then I went to sleep.
EXPERIMENT 13
The centerburg courthouse clock was just striking eight as homer rode
into the town square. He parked his bike in front of the barbershop, poked his
finger into a crack in the wooden barberpole, and pulled out a key. After
unlocking the door and putting up the shades, homer swept the floor.
By quarter of nine homer had finished with all of his opening-up chores.
He started looking through the stack of old magazines, the same magazines that
had been there last Saturday and the Saturday before, the same magazines that
had been in the barbershop since homer started working there. Homer had looked
at them all a hundred times, so he just sat looking out of the window, waiting
for the barber to arrive at nine o’clock.
Through the babershop window he watched the sheriff walk across the
square at tne minutes to nine, as usual, and go into uncle ulysses’ lunchroom
for breakfast.
He watched the mayor drive up and go into the town hall at five minutes
of nine, as usual.
The courthouse clock struck nine, and homer yawned. Just for variety he
looked in the mirror, so that he could see the town square backwards. Then, by
sitting in the barber chair and leaning way back, he looked in the mirror and
saw the town square upside down and backwards. Homer smiled as he watched the
barber come out of the lunchroom upside down.
Boosting himself out of the barber chair, homer looked at the clock and
thought,”he’s a little bit late, as usual!” then he said,”gosh!” to nobody in
particular.
“everythings is so usual around here. Seems as though nothing ever
happens here any more.”
“morning, homer,” the barber said as he came in.” I see we are open and
ready for business.” Ti was the same thing that the barber said every Saturday
morning.
“good morning, mr.biggs,” said homer, watching the barber take off his
coat and hat and hang them on the same hook he always hung them on.
“now he will put on his eyeshade,” thought homer.”and his white jecket
with the two buttons missing. Next he will take his razor from the little white
cabinet marked sterilizer and began to strop it.”
While the barber was stropping his razor the door opened and homer knew
exactly who it would be. He said,”hello, sheriff!” without even having to look.
“good morning, everybody,” the sheriff and homer finished shining the
sheriff’s shoes, uncle ulysses ariived right on shedule and just as usual.
“anything new?” asked uncle ulysses.
Homer shook his head, and the barber said,”nope.”
“things are mighty slow,” asked uncle ulysses hopefully, loooking
through the same old stack. Then he glanced up and said,”uhowh!” and the
sheriff, the barber, homer and uncle ulysses moved over to the window to look.
Dulcy dooner and lawyer stobbs were hurrying across the square just as
fast as they could go.
“something’s up!” said the barber.
“where are they going?” mused uncle ulysses.
“looks like they’re beaded for the ahnk-I mean headed for the bank!”
said the sheriff.
“the bank doesn’t open until nine-thirty,” said homer.
Clear across the square they heard dulcy bang on the door of the bank
and shout,”open up! Open the door, I say!” and they saw the door of the bank
open two minutes before nine-thirty and dulcy and lawyer stobbs go inside.
“first time the bank ever let anybody in before nine-thirty for as long
as I can remember,” said uncle ulysses.
“dulcy is sure excited about something,” said the sheriff.”usually he
isn’t even up this time of day.”
“say, homer,” said the barber, looking in the cash drawer.”I seem to be
runing out of change. You take these two dollar and run over to the bank and
get me some nickles.”
“all right, mr. Biggs,” homer agreed, and the sheriff and the barber and
uncle ulysses stood by the open door while he ran across the square and into
the bank.
“sh-h, listen!” said uncle ulysses.” I can hear dulcy shoutin’.”
“he just yelled ‘ninety grand,’” whispered the barber.
“no, he didn’t,” uncle ulysses disagreed. “he said ‘I demand.’”
“here comes homer,” said the sheriff.”we’ll soon know what the fuss is
all about. What’s goin’on, son?” he asked.
“has dulcy got ninety grand?” asked the barber, reaching for his two
dollars’ worth of nickles.
“what’s he demanding?” asked uncle ulysses.
“dulcy is demanding and maybe he’s got ninety grand. That’s what he’s
demanding to find out,” said homer.
“dulcy’s uncle durpee dooner died of fever over in africa and left
everything to dulcy.”
“that’s nothing to be so mad about,” said uncle ulysses.
“naw,” the barber agreed,”dulcy will be a rich man.”
“havin’ money should make him easier to get along with,” said the
sheriff.
“well, dulcy hasn’t got any money, not yet anyway,”
said homer.”all he’s got so far is that old greenhouse and ten acres of
land where durpee dooner used to run his seed business before he got to be so
famous.”
“why, durpee dooner must havew made lots of money,”
said the barber.
“sure!” agreed the sheriff.”bein’ such a samous fientist-I mean famous
scientist-and goin’ on expeditions all over the world!”
“well, dulcy and lawyer stobbs can’t find any money.
They have looked everywhere and gone through all of the papers. There
were no bank books, or stocks, or bonds, or anything. All they found was a key to a safe deposit box, and that must be
where all the money is. Dulcy is so mad because they are making him sign a lot
of papers before they let him go in the vault and unlock the box.”
“ti sounds like things have calmed down over there,” said uncle ulysses,
cocking an ear,”I think I’ll just walk across and cash a ssmall check.”
“I been needin’ a new blotter, so I’ll just come along,” said the
sheriff.
The barber went along to get some more change, and homer ran along
behind to take the sheriff his coat. No telling, the sheriff might need his
badge.
As they went into the bank the banker was just opening the heavy door of
the vault.
“just step inside, mr. Dooner,” he said.”here is the deposit box, number
one hundred and thirteen.”
“it’s about time,”growled dulcy, jabbing his key into the lock.
The sheriff, the barber, uncle ulysses, and homer all crowded upto the
counter and peered through the bars to watch.
Dulcy turned the key and pulled out the box. His hands shook so much
with excitement that he had trouble opening the lid. He managed to get it open
and then let out a wild howl!
“what kinda joke is this?” he eylled, and he jumped around something
awful, banging the vault, bumping the banker, and bumping the lawyer.
“take care, mr. Dooner! You’ll break it!” shouted the banker, grabbing
dulcy by the arm before he could throw the something that was in the box.
“calm down, dulcy,” the lawyer demanded.”let’s be sensible and take it
out in the light and examine it.”
“of all the lousy tricks!” growled dulcy, holding a small glass jar up
to the light.
“what’s in it?” uncle ulysses demanded through the paying teller window.
“aw, nuts!” said dulcy.”it’s a lousy jar of seeds!”
“a most unusual place for keeping seeds,” said the banker.
“maybe they are unusual seeds,” homer suggested.
“yes, dulcy, they are no doubt very valuable seeds,” said the
lawyer.”that little glass jar might be worth a fortune. Why else would durpee
dooner keep it locked up in the bank? Look here, there’s a label that says
experiment 13.”
The thought of owning a jar of valuable seeds made dulcy less mad, but
he was far from happy. He shook his and I have to be the one that inherits a
jar of seeds-an experiment at that!”
“what are you going to do with your seeds, dulcy?”
asked homer.
“well,” said dulcy, rubbing his chin and frowning at the jar,”I’ll
plçant some of them, I guess.” He crammed the jar of seeds into his pocket and
started for the door.
“just a minute, dulcy,” the lawyer cautioned.”better keep them locked up
here in the bank and take out some of them when you are ready to plant.”
“yes, by all means, mr dooner,” advised the banker.
“the seeds are apparently very valuable, and you must protect them.”
Dulcy thought for a minute and then did as the lawyer and the banker
suggested. He locked the jar of seeds up in the deposit box and went off to his
greenhouse to prepare a place to plant.
“too bad ducy didn’t find a nice stack of government savings bonds in
the deposit box,” said uncle ulysses when they had arrived back at the
barbershop.
“yup!” said the sheriff.”with savings
bonds you know just what’s what.”
“dulcy’s uncle durpee was a great scientist,” reminded the barber,”and
that jar of seeds might be worth millions.”
“durpee was a great hand at breeding new plants and improving old ones,”
said uncle ulysses.”he was an up-and-coming fellow for his generation-far ahead
of his time.”
“yup,”said the sheriff,” and remember the durpee tremadous tomentoes-I
mean tremendous tomatoes?”
“the strawberry tree was the best thing, always thought,” said homer.
“but the durpee dooner honey onion was the most remarkable plant he ever
bred,” uncle ulysses asserted.
“looked just like any old onion but tasted just like honey. A honey
onion pie with meringue on top is one of the world’s best foods. Durpee dooner
was a genius, no doubt about it!”
“well, what do you think dulcy’s seeds will gro into?” asked the barber.
“they were little bitsy things like grass seed,” said homer.
“something rare that old durpee brought from one of his expeditions to
asia or africa, no doubt,” said uncle ulysses.
“no,” said homer,”the jar was labeled experiment 13, so the seeds must
be for some sort of plants that he developed himself.”
“farmer’s almanac says a mild spring,” said the sheriff.
“time to start planting nest month,” said the barber.
“it’ll still be a long time through before we find outwhat dulcy’s seeds
grow into,” said the sheriff.
“”dulcy’s got a greenhouse,” reminded uncle ulysses.
“golly,” said homer,”dulcy can plant today!”
and dulcy did plant that same day. By eleven o’clock he was back
downtown with a truck, buying fertilizer and vitamin plant food. And he was
back at the bank again before noon to get some seeds. He carefully counted out
twelves seeds, and one more for good measure, into an envelope. Once more he
locked up the glass jar in his safe deposit box and rushed off in the direction
of his greenhouse.
By four o’clock, when homer stopped by the green-house, there was dulcy
inside admiring the thirteen damp mounds of earth where he had planted his
seeds.
“hello, mr. Dooner,” said homer.
“hello, homer,” said dulcy.”I’m p+retty tired, and my back is sore from
haulin’fertilizer and from spadin’.”
“you need some help,” homer suggested.”school is out next month, and
freddy and I could help out doing hoeing and spraying-that is, if the seeds
grow into anything.”
“you’re hired, homer, and freddy too!” said dulcy.
“they’ll grow all right,” he added confidently.”I put two bushes of
vitamin plant food around each seed.”
“whe-e-ew!” whistled homer.”what kind of plants do you think they will
be, dulcy?”
“I dunno,” said dulcy.”but whatever they are, they’ll be the biggest and
the best.”
Sunday afternoon homer called freddy on the phone and said,”hi, freddy.
Have you heard about dulcy’s seeds?”
“gosh, yes, homer! Everybody in centerburg’s heard about dulcy’s seeds,”
said freddy.”everybody’s talking about them. The minister even preached about
them this morning.’if that’s what you sow, that’s what you reap.’”
“dulcy’s already planted thirteen of them,” said homer.
“yeah, I know,” freddy said.”and the jar said experiment 13. my
grandmother says no good can come of that.”
“that’s just superstition,” said homer.”but working for dulcy we’ll find
out as soon as anybody. We’ll stop at dulcy’s tomorrow after school and see
what’s happening.”
“okay, homer,” said freddy.”good-by.”
“good-by, freddy,” said homer.”see you tomorrow.”
Homer and freddy stopped at the greenhouse the next day after school;
they stopped every day all week, and nothing exciting was going on. The seeds
had not come up. Dulcy was getting more and more restless and complaining about
a stiff neck from watching so steadily for the seeds to come up.
On Saturday morning homer was late getting to the barbershop. He rushed
in and shouted,”they’re up!”
“what’s up, son?” asked the sheriff.
“dulcy’s plants! Dulcy’s plants are up, all thirteen of them!” homer
said.
“let’s go look!”said uncle ulysses, throwing down his magazine.
And the barber and homer ahnd uncle ulysses went over to the greenhouse
with the sheriff in his car.
“look!” said dulcy, proudly displaying the thirteen tender green shoots.
“healthy-looking plants,” said the barber.
“you can almost see the grow!” said uncle ulysses.
“you can see them grow, if you look closely,” said dulcy, and he started
scooping vitamin plant food out of a bag and sprinkling it generously around
the plants.
Even with a truckload of vitamin plant food to help out, the plants took
weeks to get as high as homer’s head. The tallest one of the thirteen plants
came just to the bottom of his ear on the day school was out and homer and
freddy started working at the greenhouse.
They sprinkled the plants with vitamin plant food and they sprinkled
them with water. They carried bags of fertilizer and they listened to dulcy
complain about his back.
“gosh, homer, it seems like it takes forever for a plant to grow
anything but stems and leaves,”
frewddy complained.”why can’t these things make a few berries or
squashes or something, so we’ll know what they are?”
“they have got a lot of stems and leaves,” homer agreed.”sometimes when
I look at them I think they’ll be bushes, and other times they remind me of
vines.”
“they’re growing faster now that the weather is warmer,” said
freddy.”look, homer, this one has grown almost a foot today!”
sure enough, when homer stood next to the plant the top reached way
above his ear; it was way above his head.
The next morning when homer and freddy arrived at dulcy’s the tops of
the plants were right up tching the glass rood of the greenhouse.
“we have to break out some sections of the roof and give them room to
grow,”shouted dulcy.
“gosh, dulcy, they’re going to be trees!” freddy exclaimed.
“they’re realy a-growin’ now, son!” said dulcy with a happy chuckle.”you
boys grab a couple of hammers and start knockin’ some openings in the roof. You
want to be careful,” he cautioned,”when you break the glass, that it doesn’t
hurt the plants.”
While dulcy went off downtown to get another truck-load of vitamin plant
food, homer and freddy climbed around on the roof knocking out openings for the
plants to grow through.
Freddy swung his hammer, and a pane of glass went out with a loud crash!
And a few small pieces slid tinkle-tinkle down the slant of the roof.
“this is the most fun we’ve had on this jog yet, freddy,” shouted homer
with a laugh.
“yeah, homer, but there will be a lot of”-crash-tinkle-tinkle-“pieces to
pick up,” said freddy as he swung his hammer down.
“that’s the sort of job that hurts dulcy’s back,” said homer, stopping
to rest.”holly smoke, freddy! Look at ‘em grow!”
“wow!” said freddy, and he dropped his hammer.
The plants were pushing right up through the holes in the glass. It
seemed as though they were glad to be out in the warm summer sunshine. Homer
peered through the glass and saw a large stalk pushing against the roof. He
bashed out a hole and the plant popped through, spread its leaves, and seemed
so grateful that homer politely said, “you’re welcome,”without thinking.
By the time dulcy returned with the vitamin plant food every single
stalk was through the roof, pushing its way into the sushine, the new green
leaves rustling in the summer breeze. Dulcy went right to work, spreading
vitamin plant food around the bases of the stalks, while homer and freddy
picked up the glass.
As stories of how dulcy’s plants were growing spread through centerburg,
people began to come out to have a look. Dulcy charged fifty-nine dollars the
first afternoon. By the end of the week, however, business was bad. Not that
the plants stopped growing, or that people stopped coming out to look. The
plants grew faster than ever- that was the trouble. There was three times as
much plant outside as there was inside the greenhouse. Large crowds gathered on
the road every day to watch them grow. Dulcy reduced the priece of admission to
tne cents but still not many came inside. He was pretty mad about it, but there
was not a thing he could do.
“after all, you can’t keep people from lookin’ at a forest in the middle
of a ten-acre lot,”said uncle ulysses, and that’s just about what dulcy’s
plants looked like.
One day the rumor went around that there were malons eight feet across
inside the greenhouse. Business improved, but not for long, because there were
no melons, not even little ones. There were no berries or fruit of any kind, no
vegetables, not even a suggestion of a blossom.
“they ain’t very pretty plants,” said the sheriff, who was on hand every
day to handle the traffic problem.
“they’re pretty enough,” said dulcy, taking offense,”and bigger than
anything you will ever grow!”
“the plants have a familiar shape,” said homer,” and it seems as though
I ought to recognize the leaves.”
“maybe they’re potatoes, and under the ground,” freddy suggested.
“if they’re potatoes, dulcy,” said the sheriff with a chuckle,”you’ll
have to find a sheam stovel-I mean steam shovel-to dig ‘em out.”
“just you wait and see!” dulcy shouted.”these plants will grow the
biggest-the biggest-well, the biggest somethings ever grown,” and he stamped
into his greenhouse to spread on more vitamin plant food.
Two whole weeks went by and dulcy’s plants were producing nothing more
remarkable than leaves and stems, but leaves and stems they produced like mad.
The plants had become the most important feature of the centerburg skyline,
towering way above the centerburg courthouse and the smokestack of the enders
products company.
“I don’t think they’re going to bear anything,” the barber said one day
at lunch in uncle ulysses’ lunchroom.
“they’re using up all their strength putting out shoots and leaves.
Dulcy should have pruned them down.”
“it’ll be a big disappoinment to dulcy,” said uncle ulysses.”he’s worked
harder on those plants of his than he has since he put up the street signs out
at enders heights.”
“he can try again next year and keep’em pruned,”said the sheriff
brushing a doughnut crumb from his mustache.”he’s got plenty more seeds locked
up in the bank.”
The door opened and, in no special hurry, homer walked in and sat down
at the counter.
“hello, homer,” said uncle ulysses.”have a doughnut, fresh from the
machine.”
“no, thank you, uncle ulysses,” homer replied, and he sat quietly at the
counter, watching the automatic doughnot machine make doughnots.
“you not feeling well?” uncle ulysses inquired.
“I’m feeling all right,” homer replied. Then he anounced,”I know what
dulcy’s plants are.”
“you do?” asked uncle ulysses, and everyone rushed to the lunchroom
window and looked across the square to where dulcy’s plants rose high above the
trees and buildings on the far side.
2you can just make them out from here,” said homer.
“there are thousands of buds on top.”
“they look familiar,” said the barber.
“that’s what I’ve thought for weeks,” said homer.”it’s the size that
fools you. Hold your hand so as to cover the trees and buildings and pretend
for a minute that the plants are ordinary size.”
Everybody did as homer suggested; then one of the customers began to
giggle, then another, and finally all the people in the lunchroom began to
laugh.
“poor dulcy!” laughed the barber, hoplding his sides.
“he’ll never get over this,” chuckled uncle ulysses.
“the town will never stop teasing him. Dulcy’s plants are just
giant-size weeds!”
“yes, but what kind of weeds?” homer asked without laughing.
Everybody looked again. This time nobiody laughed.
“jiminy zeus!” cried uncle ulysses.
The barber gulped and said,”I’ll have to leave town!”
“so will I!” said another customer.
“me too, I’m leaving today!” said another.
“dad gum!” the sheriff said.”now who’d ever thought them plants was
wagreed!”
“they’re ragweed, all right,” said homer,”and I expect they’ll blossom
in a few days.”
“we’d better get the mayor and go see dulcy,” uncle ulysses suggested,
and the sober little group from the lunchroom started for the town hall. The
dentist and several patients came out to see what was going on, and they joined
the group. So did the plumber, the jeweler, the printer, and the druggist.
“I have a feeling,” said the barber, taking leave of the gathering
crowd,”that dulcy will be in one of his arguing moods. I’m going right home and
pack my bag. Just the thought of those things makes me sne-sn-s-hahuru-schooh!sneeze.”
“an awful lot of folk are troubled with hay fever,” said the
druggist.”reminds me I had better order a carload of paper handkerchiefs.”
“when all those thousands of buds open up and start filling the air with
pollen, this place is going to look like the dust bowl,” said the dentist.
Uncle ulysses and the sheriff went on into the mayor’s office, while the
others waited outside.
Almost at once the mayor came rushing out of the town hall. He shaded
his eyes with his hand, looked solemnly up and across the square at dulcy’s
thirteen colossal ragweeds silhouetted against the afternoon sky.
Everybody knew that the mayor was susceptible to hay fever, so they were
not surprised when he pulled out his handkerchief, just from force of habit.
For a minute it looked as if the mayor might start tunnning; but he tucked away
his handkerchief, squared his shoulders, and started walking grimly toward
dulcy’s.
The crowd followed along behind him.
Dulcy came running out to meet them.”they’re buding!” he shouted.”they
got thousands and thousands of buds! Howdy, mayor,” he greeted.”I was just
about to come see you. I wanted to ask you, would you please send the fire
department out here so’s I can cut off a few asprings of buds to exhibit? My
ladder is too small to reach the lowest branches.”
The mayor was slightly taken aback by dulcy’s request and couldn’t think
of what to say or how to begin.
“I could cut off a few sprigs for you, mayor,” said dulcy generously, to
help the mayor decide.”they’ll look mighty nice in a vase in your office when
the blossoms come out.”
“dulcy, I-I-“ the mayor began and could not continue. Dulcy dooner
looked around at the solemn faces of the crowd.”what’s the matter? This is a
big thing for centerburg! Don’t you frown at me, sheriff, I’m bein’ a good
citizen. Myplants will put this town on the map. I’m doin’ a lot for this town,
so how about loanin’ me the town hook and ladder?”
“dulcy, I-ah-we-“ began the mayor unhappily.” As mayor of centerburg, I
am sorry to inform you that your plants are ragweeds?”
dulcy swalooed hard and craned his neck to look up at his tremendous
weeds. In the unhappy silence the gay singing of the birds seemed out of place,
and the slight rustle of the giant ragweed leaves suddendly sounded ominous in
the summer afternoon.
“ragweeds? Why, durned if they ain’t!” said dulcy. He seemed
disappointed that there would be on fruit or berries to sell, but then he
smiled and said,”well, anyway, I got the biggest dang ragweeds in the world!
That’çç make centerburg famous! So look, mayor, how about the ladder?”
he asked.
“see here, dulcy,” said the mayor,” ragweed pollen gives people hay
fever!”
dulcy looked around at the worried faces.”shucks! don’t you trouble
yourselves about me. I’ll be all right. I never get hay fever.”
“in the interest of public health and pursuit of happiness, for the best
interest of the town of centerburg, I ask you as good citizen to cut down your
ragweeds,” said the mayor.
“cut’ em down?” cried dulcy.”cut my ragweeds?” he askeds as tho8ugh he
could not believe his ears.”no!” he shouted.”no, I won’t cut’ em down.” And the citizens
watched dulcy turn on his heel, stamp into his greenhouse, and slam the door.
“didn’t argue much,” said the sheriff tartly.
The mayor glanced uneasily up at the thousands of giant ragweed buds
swaying innocently in the breeze.
“sword of damocles!” uncle ulysses exclaimed softly.
“in a matter of hours the buds will open, the pollen will –I hate to
think of it!”
“time is important,”said the mayor.”we must hold a special town meeting
this every evening and decide what to do. Everyone come to the town hall at
seven-thirty.
Until then, I’ll be at my desk, and I will welcome any and all
sugestions,” he added humbly,” of how to deal with this, the greatest and
gravest threat our town has ever known.”
“homer,” freddy said on the way back to town,”my grandmother was
right-experiment 13, thirteen plants.”
“supertitious!” homer replied.”let’s go along with uncle ulysses and see
what’s going to happen.”
Uncle ulysses, the sheriff, the dentist, the printer, homer, and freddy
found the barber, suitcase in hand, tucking the key to his shop into the crack
of the barberpole. They persuaded him to wait over and attend the town meeting
that evening, so he opened his shop and invited them all in.
“if ordinary ragweed gives some people hay faver,” the printer
reasoned,”then these things will be enough to affect everybody!”
“this town will sneeze itself plumb out of the state of ohio!” the
sheriff declared.
“they’re growing just west of town too,” the dentist said.”the
prevailing winds blow all the pollen smack down our throats.”
“ulysses, you’re a man of ideas,” said the barber.
“what are we going to do?”
uncle ulysses was thinking hard. He paced the floor and said,”we could
air-condition the town, but it would cost a lot. Not enough time either. Then
again, we might drop dry ice in the clouds from as airplane and make it rain.
That would keep down the pollen.”
“what clouds?” the barber asked gloomily, looking out at the clear blue
sky.
“dulcy might change his mind,”said the printer.
“not dulcy,”said the sheriff.”we might as well decide to take what’s
comin’ and all go to bed with a big supply of haper pandkerchiefs-I mean perper
kerpanchiefs-chapper handkepips-dad gum! You know what I mean-tensing clissues!”
nobody knew what to do. There was a long line of people waiting to buy
tickets at the railroad station. Just like the barber, other businessmen, the
plumber, the hardware dealer, the jeweler, even lawyer stobbs, were closing
their shops and offices and hanging out cards saying:
OUT OF TOWN
REOPENING
SHORTLY AFTER
THE FIRST FROST.
But everybody stayed in town to attend the town meeting as a last hope.
Toward seven o’clock centerburg was a town of gloom. As the sun dropped
lower in the sky, groups of residents gathered in the square, and as the sun
dropped lower the shadows lengthened. The longest shadow by far was the shadow
of dulcy’s thirteen giant ragweeds; and the people watched them extend across
and darken the square and ease slowly up and darken uncle ulysses’ lunchroom,
up and darken the movie theater, and last of all the steeple of the methodist
church.
From one corner of the square there came angry hsouts,”let’s get on into
the meeting and solve this thing regular!” and he headed the disturbes into the
town hall along with everybody else.
Everybody was there, yes, everybody. Dulcy came too. He walked into the
hall at the very last minute, and all eyes were turned to the rear where dulcy
stood with the people who could not find seats.
Seeing that his fellow citizens expected him to say something, dulcy
cleared his throat and said,”I been thinkin’. We could solve this problem the
democratic way just as easy as that!” he snapped his fingers, and a murmur of
hope sounded through the hall.
“yeah,” said dulcy, gathering courage,”centerburg doesn’t need no crop
o’ragweed!”
at this the murmur grew louder, and someone shouted,”good boy, dulcy!”
“this town doesn’t need ragweeds,” he repeated. Then he took a deep
breath and said,”when the government decides the country coesn’t need cotton,
the government pays the farmer to plow it under. When the government decides
there’s too many potatoes, the governement pays to have’em destroyed. Now , I
reckon, since centerburg doesn’t need no ragweeds-well, I reckon the town ought
to pay me so’s they can get rid of’em. I figger a thousand dollars and
expenses, paid in cash, ought to be a fair price.”
Another murmur went through the hall. The printer rose from his seat and
adressed the mayor.”mr. mayor, a thousand dollars seems a big price for a crop
of ragweed.”
“these are big ragweeds, your honor,” said dulcy modestly.
“this sum should be paid by the national government and not by the town
of centerburg,” said lawyer stobbs.
At this the country agent jumped to his feet and cried,
“I make a motion that the town pay dulcy. By the time that we filled out
all the papers and sent them to washington, it would be too late.”
“I second that motion!” the barber spoke up.
Over the whispering of the audience the mayor called for silence and
said,” a motion has been made and seconded that the town pay dulcy dooner one
thousand dollars and expenses in cash for his ragweed plants. Be cause time is
short and at any hour the plants may break into bloom, we will have an oral
vote. All those in favor say ‘aye.’”
“aye!” said everyone.
“anyone against?” asked the mayor. No one spoke.
“majority rule,” said dulcy.”it’s nice we could solve this problem so
democratic like.”
Then he made his way to the front of the hall and handed the mayor a
paper listing his expenses:
70 bags of vitamin plant food @$4.oo a bag $280.00
2 assistants @$13.00 each 26.00
rubbing alcohol for lame back 7.13
total expenses $313.13
the mayor read this aloud and then said,”added on to the thousand
dollars, the total amount due to mr. Dooner is thirteen hundred and thirteen
dollars and thirteen cents.”
“homer,” whispered freddy,”there’re those numbers again. That means more
trouble-“
“sh-h, freddy,” said homer.”look, the town treasurer and the banker are
leaving to get the cash for dulcy.”
When the treasurer returned from the bank he carefully counted out
thirteen hundred and thirteen dollars in bills into dulcy’s eager hand, and
then just as carefully he counted out the dime and one, two, three pennies.
Dulcy stuffed the money into his pockets, and the mayor announced that
after the meeting the fire department, and any men who might care to volunteer,
would cut down the giant ragweeds and attend to the burning of the trunks and
stems and blossoms.
The people apllauded and cheered with relief, now that the threat had
been dealt with. Life in centerburg would not come to a sneezing halt, and
business could be resumed as usual.
The mayor held up his hand for silence.”now that we are all assembled,
is there anything else that should be brought before the meeting?” he asked.
“yes,” said the town treasurer.”this business has left the town finances
pretty low. We ought to discuss how to raise thirteen hundred and thirteen
dollars and thirteen cents to make the budget come out right.”
“we could have some new taxes!” dulcy suggested happily.” An extra penny
on ice-cream cones, a tax on movies, a penny tax here and there, and nobody’d
hardly notice it.”
“that’s impratical,” said the banker.”think of the bookkeeping trying to
keep track of a penny here and there. Borrow the money from the bank and take
ten years to pay it back in easy installments.”
“oh, don’t do that!” dulcy cautioned.”the town can’t be payin’for this
year’s ragweed next eyar. Ya see, I got lots more seed locked up in the bank,
and next year I’m countin’ on a bummer crop’o giant ragweed, maybe a hundred
times as much!”
“homer,”whispered freddy,”how much is a hundred times thirteen hundred
and thirteen dollars and thirteen cents?” and the whisper sounded loud over the
troubled silence.
“seems as if our troubles are never over,” the mayor said sadly.
Dulcy dooner seemed to be the only happy person in the whole population of
centerburg.”say!” he suggested brightly.”how about a tax on doughnots, say,
twenty-five cents a dozen?”
“no!” shouted uncle ulysses.”you cahn’t get away with that, dulcy
dooner! It’s preposterous to hink that the doughnot eaters of centerburg are
going to pay for your ragweed growing!”
“no need to get mad, ulysses,” said dulcy.”let’s do this thing
democratic.”
Uncle ulysses called out,”mr. Mayor, I move that we put a tax of
twenty-five cents on a dozen ragweed seed!”
“I second that motion,” said the printer over dulcy’s shouts of”no! no!”
when the mayor called for a vote the “ayes” won, and only one person
voted”no.”
“mr. Mayor,” said the dentist with a chuckle
there was plenty of chuckling and laughing throughout the hall now and
everybody gleefully voted”aye.”
Everybody except dulcy dooner. He voted”no-o!”
“mr. Dooner!” chuckled the mayor,”majority rule, remember? Let’s be a
good citizen about this!”
“you’re steppin’ on the minority’s toes!” dulcy shouted, but no one
seemed to take notice.
The mayor appointed uncle ulysses ragweed seed counter and made him
chairman of a committee to count the seeds and collect the tax from dulcy.
Then at last the meeting was over.
The people were in a celebrating mood, the fire bell jangled merrily,
and the fire department tookj over the rush jog of disposing of dulcy’s plants.
Groups of singing people were soon clustered about fires of burning ragweed,
and it made a pretty sight, what with spotlights of the fire truck alternating
red and white flashes. There was the sound of axes and saws, and then the
excited cry of”timbe-e-er!” followed by the earth trembling crash as a stalk of
giant ragweed hit the ground.
“there goes the thirtteen ragweed plant,” said freddy with relief.
“you still worried about numbers, freddy?” homer asked. Then he
said,”let’s go back to the bank and see how uncle ulysses is getting on
counting ragweed seeds.”
Homer and freddy peeked through the window of the bank; it was closed up
tight, and uncle ulysses and his committee were not inside counting seeds. Then
they looked in the barbershop; the mayor, the sheriff, the barber, and lawyer
stobbs were playing rummy, but uncle ulysses and his committee were not there.
They finally found the seed counters in the lunchroom. Uncle ulysses was
hunched over, squinting through a magnifying glass, counting the tiny giant
ragweed seeds. Every time uncle ulysses counted twelve, the jeweler put down a
mark, and the banker, who excelled at arithmetic, was multiplying the number of
marks by twenty-five cents to find out how much the tax of twenty-five cents a
dozen on ragweed seeds was mounting up to.
And dulcy-dulcy was there, watching like a hawk to see that nobody made
mistakes in his counting or marking or multiplying. All four werew so intent
upon their job that they did not notice when homer and freddy arrived.
“three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine,” said the jeweler.
“one, two, three, four, five six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven,
twelve,” counted uncle ulysses.
“four thousand dozen,” said the jeweler.
“four thousand dozen times twenty-five cents is one thousand dollars’
tax,” said the banker,”and we still have several thousand dozen seeds inside
the jar to count!”
“looks like the town is going to make money on this tax,” said the
jeweler.
“no, it ain’t!” cried dulcy.”not from me it ain’t!” he counted out a
thousand dollars and slammed the money down on the table.”there’s your durned
thousand, and I’m keeping my expenses!” then he headed for the door.”just a
minute, dulcy!” called uncle ulysses.”there are a lot more o’yer seeds to count
and tax.”
“my seeds, my eye!” shouted dulcy.”you can shove ‘em all in you shoe! I
never want to look at another seed!” and he slammed the door of the luchroom on
his way out.
“what are you going to do with the seeds, uncle ulyses?” aske dhomer.
“oh, hello, boys,” uncle ulysses said.”you’re just the fellows we need
here. Homer, freddy, you finish countin’ these things. It’s pretty fine work
and takes a young, sharp eye. We old fellows are pretty tired, and besides, we
better go across to the barbershop and report to the mayor.”
Homer and freddy started counting ant the comitte went off to make its
report.
“gosh, homer,” freddy complained,”there’s still thousands of seeds here
to count and it will take all night! I don’t see why they have to be counted
anyway. Dulcy isn’t going to pay any more tax on them.”
“it’s important to count them, though,” said homer.
“you know something, freddy, counting and keeping track of every single
one of these seeds is just about the most important job in centerburg.”
“more important than being mayor? Asked freddy.
“sure,” said homer,”because if one single seed got lost, it might grow
into a giant-size ragweed.”
“just one giant-size ragweed might not make everybody sneeze so bad,
homer,” said freddy.
“yes, it would too,” homer said.”if the pollen from one giant ragweed
hereabouts, then the next year there would be hybrid ragweed every place.”
“gosh, homer, just like hybrid corn. The hybrid ragweeds would be bigger
than ever!” said freddy.
Homer nodded his head gravely.”just supposing somebody subversive, like
an enemy, was to capture these seeds, freddy, and plant them some night right
next to the white house and the capitol!”
“and the prsident and the senators and represantatives all started
sneezing with hay fever!” freddy said.
“yup,” said homer.”the president couldn’t hold press conferences and the
senators couldn’t hold press conferences and the senators couldn’t hold press
conferences and the senator couldn’t hold press conferences and the senators
couldn’t make speeches, and I guess the governement would come to a stop.
Everything would get tangled up and disrupt the country. You see, counting
these seeds is super important!”
and he picked up the magnifying glass and started to count giant ragweed
seeds.
Over across the town square in the barbershop, uncle ulysses and the
committee had joined the game of rummy, after they had reported to the mayor.
“quenn of seeds,” said uncle ulysses, turning over a card.”zeus!” he
said.”I keep seein’ those things in front o’my eyes. Reminds me, I better call
up the luchroom and see how homer and freddy are getting’ along.” He picked up
the phone and gave the number.”hello, homer? How’re you makin’ out? Still have
a lot to count, eh?” uncle ulysses listened for a minute and then he said,”we
thought we’d just lock ‘em up in the bank again. Nobody would ever think of
plantin’ a crop of ragweeds-except dulcy, that is. If they knew what they was
plantin’, they wouldn’t.” uncle ulysses listened again and stopped smiling;
then he looked worried.”homer,” he said, trying to control his voice,”you just
keep right on countin’ and be extra careful not to lose a single seed. Don’t
worry, son, we’ll talk it over and think of a way to get rid of’em
somehow.”uncle ulysses hung up the receiver and went back to the rummy game
with terror in his eyes and fear in his heart.
“men,” said uncle ulysses gravely,”we’ve got to think hard or this
country will be one big sneeze clear from the atlantic to the pacific coast!
Why, one single enemy plane could sow those seeds from new york to san
francisco in a couple of hours!”
“what are you raving about, ulysses?” asked the barber.
“it’s the strain of counting all those little seeds that’s got him
upset, I guess,” said the banker.
“I’m not ravin’!” said uncle ulysses, glaring widly at the rummy
players.”you men put down your cards and listen to me. We have to think and
think fast of a way to get rid of those seeds. If the wrong kind of people were
to get hold of’ em, it would mean the ruim of this country!”
“shucks, ulysses, we’re going to lock’em up again in the safe deposit
vault, so stop worrying and let’s get on with the game!” said the printer.
“stop being so-so-so complacent,” uncle ulysses sputtered.”banks get
robbed almost every day and you know it.” Then he looked over his shoulder and
leaned was over close and whispered hoarsely,”and the kind of people I mean
wouldn’t stop at nothing.”
“rubbish,” said uncle ulysses.”as many as twenty people have broken out
of your jail, sheriff, and it’s a durned sight easier to break in. besides, the
jail has got mice. Suppose mouse was to take some of those seeds home to a hole
in the ground to feed his family?
Then where’d we be? Right back where we were with dulcy, only this time
we might not act in time.” Uncle ulysses was excited now and he shouted,”bees
and bugs! We’ll have to get rid of’em so they won’t find’em! I tell ya, men, if
the pollen from just one of these giant ragweeds gets loose and mixes with our
wild ragweeds, we’ll have hybrid ragweeds bigger even that the giant ragweeds.”
All the men finally realized the seriousness of the situation, and they
sat glancing uneasily at one another. The mayor was the first to move; he
dashed over to the window and looked across the deserted square at the lunch-room.
“there’s no use worrying those two boys about this,” he said.” But we
had better post a guard outside while they finish their counting. Sheriff,” he
ordered,”you take your gun and cover the front entrance. And biggs,”he said,
handing the barber his keys,”you’ll find a revolver in the upper right-hand
drawer of my desk. You guard the back entrance. The rest of us will stay here
and try to dope out a solution to this problem. In case of trouble fire a shot
into the air and we’ll be right over to help out.”
The sheriff and the barber went out the door, and the rest of the men
drew their chairs up close together for a conference.
“now then,” said the mayor,”let’s decide what to do.”
Nobody said anything for some minutes. They all sat thinking. Then uncle
ulysses said,”well, let’s decide.”
“I’ve heard tell that birds sometimes plant seeds in ou-of-the-way
places,” said the banker.
“yeh, birds and mice and buugs. We have to dispose of them some way so
they won’t get at them,” said uncle ulysses.
“the most important thing is to keep these ragweed seeds from falling
into the hands of enemy agents,” said lawyer stobbs.”sneezing could seriously
impair the functioning of the executive and the judicial as well as the
legislative branches of our federal government.”
“what can we do with them?
“what can we do with them? Where can we put them?
How can we get rid of them so not one seed can fall into the hands of
some enemy agent? Or mouse? Or bird? Or bug?” asked uncle ulysses, pacing up
and down.
“the bank wouldn’t be safe,” said the banker.
“it wouldn’t be safe to bury the seeds,” said the printer.
“if we hid them inside a mattress, the mice would find them,” said the
mayor.
“I was thinking, if were to hide them up at the very top of the
courthouse tower it might be a good place, but the-“
“pigeons!” everybody said at once.
“of course,” said uncle ulysses,”if we had the time, we could have a
special burglar-bug-bird-and-mouse-proof container made to order, something
like the time capsule that they buried at the world’s fair. That would take
months, and it would be a tremendous responsibility to guard those seeds day
and night until then.”
“I’m for calling in the fbi right now,” said the banker.
“there isn’t a single place under the earth, on the earth, or a steeple
over the earth that’s a safe place to hide those seeds.”
“the ocean!” shouted uncle ulysses.” The atlantic ocean! The sheriff
could take the seeds to atlantic city and hire a boat to take him to a nice
deep spot. Then he could toss the ragweed seeds overboard, and that would be
that.”
“that’s it, ulysses,” said the mayor.”there’s a train for the east that
goes through here at twelve-forty tonight.
We’ll send the sheriff to atlantic city to sink those seeds!”
“I’ve got a metal cashbox with a lock and a nice handle,” said the
banker.”the sheriff could carry the seeds in that and handcuff it to his wrist,
so nobody could steal in on the train.”
“and I’ve got some heavy lead type to put in the box just to make sure
it’ll sink,” said the printer.
“fine,” said the mayor.”you two fellows get the box and weight it with
type, and lawyer stobbs, you relieve the sheriff at the front of the lunchroom,
so he can go home and pack. Ulysses and myself will call the station and make
reservations for the sheriff on the twelve-forty.”
In shortly less than half an hour the box was rready and back at the
barbershop; and five minutes later the sheriff came in carrying his bag, all
packed and ready to go. He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and one side he
fasteneed to wrist and the other he snapped through the handle of the box.
“you mustn’t forget to unfasten yourself before you toss the box,
sheriff,” said the printer with a smile.
“this is no time for joking,” said the mayor severely.
“now, sheriff, you realize how much depends on you. Don’t speak to
strangers on the train,” he cautioned,”and as soon as you get to atlantic city,
hire a boat and go out and sink the seeds.”
The mayor led the way across the town square, folowed by uncle ulysses,
the sheriff, the banker, and the printer. Lawyer stobbs, gun in hand, met them
at the door of the luchroom.
“everything all right inside?” uncle ulysses asked in a whisper.
“yes,” whispered the lawyer,”I think they’re all finished with
counting.sh-h! what’s that!” he said, pointing his gun out into the shadows of
the square.
Ãfter a tense moment of waiting, the postmaster’s dog came up wagging
his tail. Everybody relaxed and uncle ulysses chuckled,”that dog can smell
doughnuts cookin’ a mile away! Come on. Let’s go inside and pack up in’ a mile
away! Come on. Let’s go inside and pack up the seeds and get something to eat.
I’m hungry.” He opened the door and went in, followed by all the men opened the
door and went in, followed by all the men and the postmaster’s dog.
“hello boys. All through counting, I see,” said the mayor.
“ah-h!” exclaimed uncle ulysses.”very thoughtful of you, homer, to make
some doughnuts. The sheriff can take some with him for a snack on the train,
and we’re all pretty hungry right this minute.” He paused to admire his automatic
doughnut machine make doughnuts. And as he watched, the machine stopped.
Uncle ulysses, who had started passing out the hot doughnuts, said,”you
didn’t mix up enough batter. You should have made more.”
“but, uncle ulysses, we only meant to make a dozen,” said homer.
“yeah,” said freddy, who had been counting the doughnuts as they came
out of the machine.”we only meant to make a dozen.” Then he added miserably,”
but it turned out to be thirteen!”
“well, there’s enough to go around, so help yourselves, everybody,”uncle
ulysses offered.
“but uncle ulysses-“ said homer.
“freddy, you go to the back door and call the barber,” uncle ulysses
said, suddendly remembering that the barber was still guarding the rear.
“uncle ulysses-“ homer started to say.
“let’s get the seeds in the box and locked up,” said the mayor, taking a
bite of doughnut,” and then I’d like a cup of coffe.”
Freddy came back with the barber, and uncle ulysses handed him a
doughnut. Then he turned to homer.”get the ragweed seeds, son, and put them in
that box the sheriff’s got danglin’ from his wrist.”
“but, uncle ulysses,” said homer,”that’s what I’ve been trying to tell
you!” then he asked,”have you ever heard of a berry growing into a berry bush
after it had once been cooked into a pie?”
uncle ulysses had his mouth full of doughnut and so did all the other
men, so they all shook their h4eads”no.”
“have you ever heard of a nut growing into a nut tree after being baked
into a cookie?” homer asked.
And again all the men nodded their heads, because they were chewing
doughnuts and trying to swallow.
“popcorn won’t grow after it’s been popped either,”
said freddy,” because I tried it once.”
Uncle ulysses gulped and said,” homer, you’re a good boy, it’s getting’
late, and you and freddy run along home now.”
After homer and freddy had gone the mayor fed the rest of his doughnut
to the postmaster’s dog. So did uncle ulysses and the barber and the jeweler,
the printer, the banker, the sheriff, and lawyer stobbs. Then they fed him the
rest of the doughnuts and watched silently while he ate up every last crumb. As
the last crumb disappeared the sheriff said, “there goes my trip to atlantic
city.”
And the barber said,”from now on, every time I look at that dog or even
mail a letter,I’ll probably have to sn-sn-s-s-ssharah-choowh!”
THE HUNDRED DRESSES
Today, Monday, wanda petronski was not in her seat. But nobody, not even
peggy and madeline, the girls who started all the fun, noticed her absence.
Usually wanda sat in the next to the last seat in the last row in room
13. she sat in the corner of the room where the rough boys who did not make
good marks on their report cards sat; the corner of the room where there was
most scuffling of feet, most roars of laughter when anything funny was said,
and most mud and dirt on the floor.
Wanda did not sit there because she was rough and noisy. On the contrary
she was very quiet and rarelysaid anything at all. And nobody had ever heard
her laugh oyut loud. Sometimes she twisted her mouth into a crooked sort of
smile, but that was all.
Nobody knew exactly why wanda sat in that seat unless it was because she
came all the way from boggins heights, and her feet were usually caked with dry
mud that she picked up coming down the country roads. Maybe the teacher liked
to keep all the children who were apt to come in with dirty shoes in one corner
of the room. But no one really thought much about wanda petronski once she was
in the classroom. The time they thought about her was outside of school hours,
at noontime when they were coming back to school, or in the morning early
before school began, when groups of two or three or even more would be talking
and laughing on their way to the school yard.
Then sometimes they waited for wanda-to have fun with her.
The next day, Tuesday, wanda was not in school either. And nobody
noticed her abscene again, except the teacher and probably big bill byron, who
sat in the seat behind wanda’s and who could now put his long legs around her
empty desk, one on each side, and sit there like a frog, to the great
entertainment of all in his corner of the room.
But on Wednesday, peggy and maddie, who sat in the front row along with
other children who got good marks and didn’t track in a whole lot of mud, did
notice that wanda wasn’t there. Peggy was the most popular girl in school. She
was pretty; she had many pretty clothes and her auburn hair was curly. Maddie
was her closest friend.
The reason peggy and maddie noticed wanda’s absence was because wanda
had made them late to school.
They had waited and waited had made them late to school. They had waited
and waited for wanda-to have some fun with her-and she just hadn’t come. They
kept thinking shed come any minute. They saw jack beggles running to school,
his necktie askew and his cap at a precarious tilt. They knew it must be late,
for he always managed to slide into his chair exactly when the bell rang as
though he were making a touchdown. Still they waited one minute more and one
minute more, hoping she’d come. But finally they had to race off without seeing
her.
The two girls reached their classroom after the doors had been closed.
The children were reciting in unison the gettysburg address, for that was the
way miss mason always began the session. Peggy and maddie slipped into their
seats just as the class was saying the last lines . . .”that these dead shall
not have died in vain; that the nation shall, under god, have a new birth of
freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people,
shall not perish from the earth.”
After peggy and maddie stopped feeling like introdures in a class that
hads already begun, they looked across the room and noticed that wanda was not
in her seat. Furthermore her desk was dusty and looked as though she hadn’t
been there yesterday either. Come to think of it, they hadn’t seen her
yesterday. They had waited for her a little while but had forgotten about
herwhen they reached school.
They often waited for wanda petronski-to have fun with her.
Wanda lived way up on boggins heights, and boggins heights was hno place
to live. It was good place to go and pick wild flowers in the summer, but you
always held your breath till you got safely past old man svenson’s yellow
house. People in the town said old mand svenson was no good. He didn’t work
and, worse still, his house and yard were disgracefyully dirty, with rusty tin
cans strewn about and even an old straw hat. He lived alone with his dog and
his cat. No wonder, said the people of the town. Who would live with him? And
many stories circulated about him and the stories were the kind that made
people scurry past his house even in broad daylight and hope not to meet him.
Beyond sveson’s there were a few small scattered frame houses, and in
one of these wanda petronski lived with her father and her brother jake.
Wanda petronski. Most of the children in room 13 didn’t have names like
that. They had names easy to say, like thomas, smith, or allen. There was one
boy named bounce, willie bounce, and people thought that was funny but not
funny in the same way that petronski was. Wanda didn’t have any friends. She
came to school alone and went home alone. She always wore a faded blue dress
that didn’t hang right. It was clean, but it looked as though it had never been
ironed properly. She didn’t have any friends, but a lot of girls talked to her.
They waited for her under the mapple trees on the corner of oliver street. Or
they surrounded her in the school yard as she stood watching some little girls
play hopscotch on the worm hard ground.
“wanda,” peggy would say in a most courteous manner, as though she were
talking to miss mason or to the principal perhaps.”wanda,” she’d say, giving
one of her friends a nudge,”tell us. How many dresses did you say you had
hanging up in your closet?”
“a hundred,” said wanda.
“a hundred!” exclaimed all the girls incredulously, and the little girls
would stop playing hopscotch and listen.
“yeah, a hundred, all lined up,” said wanda. Then her thin lips drew
together in silence.
“what are they like? All silk, I bet,” said peggy.
“yeah, all silk, all colors.”
“velvet too?”
“yeah, velvet too. A hundred dresses,” repeated wanda stolidly.” All
lined up in my closet.”
Then they’d let her go. And then before she’d gone very far, they
couldn’t help bursting into shrieks and peals of laughter.
A hundred dresses! Obviously the only dress wanda had was the blue one
she wore every day. So what did she say she had a hundred for? What a story!
And the girls laughed derisively, while wanda moved over to the sunny place by
the ivy-covered brick wall of the school building where she usually stood and
waited for the bell to ring.
But if the girls had met her at the corner of oliver street, they’d
carry her along with them for a way, stoping every few feet for more
incredulous question. And it wasn’t always dresses they talked about. Sometimes
it was hats, or coats, or even shoes.
2how man shoes did you say you had?”
“sixty.”
“sixty! Sixty pairs or sixty shoes?”
“sixty pairs. All lined up in my closet.”
“yesterday you said fifty.”
“now I got sixty.”
Cries of exaggerated politeness greeted this.
“all alike?” said the girls.
“oh, no. every pair is different. All colors. All lined up.”
And wanda would shift her eyes quickly from peggy to a distant spot, as
though she were looking far ahead, looking but not seeing anything.
Then the outer fringe of the crowd of girls would break away gradually,
laughing, and little by little, in pairs, the group would disperse. Peggy, who
had thought up this game, and maddiw, her inseparable friend, were always the
last to leave. And finally wanda would move up the street, her eyes dull and
her mouth closed tight, hitching her left shoulder every now and then in the
funny way she had, finishing the walk to school alone.
Peggy was not really cruel. She protected small children from bullies. And
she cried for hours if she saw an animal mistreated. If anybody had said to
her,”don’t you think that is a cruel way to treat wanda?” she would have been
very surprised. Cruel? What did the girl want to go and say she had a hundred
dresses for? Anybody could tell thatwas a lie. Why did she want to lie? And she
wasn’t just an ordinary person, else why would she have a name like that?
Anyway, they never made her cry.
As for maddie, this business of asking wanda every day how many dresses
and how many hats and how many this and that she had was bothering her. Maddie
was poor herself. She usually wore somebody’s hand-me-down clothes. Thank
goodness, she didn’t live up on boggins heights or have a funny name. Nd her
forehead didn’t shine the way wanda’s round one did. What did she use on it?
Sapolio? That’s what all the girls wanted to know.
Sometimes when peggy was asking wanda those questions in that mock
polite voice, maddie felt ambarassed and studied the mrbles in the palm of her
hand, rolling them around and saying nothing herself. Not that she felt sorry
for wanda exactly. She would never have paid any attention to wanda if peggy
hadn’t invented the dresses game. But suppose peggy and all the others started
in on her next! She wasn’t as poor as wanda perhaps, but she was poor. Of
course she would have more sense than to say a hundred dresses. Still she would
not like them to begin on her. Not at all! Oh, dear! She did wish peggy would
stop teasing wanda petronski.
Some how maddie could not buckle down to work.
She sharpened her pencil, turning it around carefully in the little red
sharpener, letting the shavings fall in a neat heap on a piece of scrap paper,
and trying not to get any of the dust from the lead on her clean arithmetic
paper.
A slight frown puckered her forehead. In the first place she didn’t like
being late to school. And in the second place she kept thinking about wanda.
Somehow wanda’s desk, though empty, seemed to be the only thing she saw when
she looked over to that side of the room.
How had the hundred dresses game begun in the first place, she asked
herself impatiently. It was hard to remember the time when they hadn’t played
that game with wanda; hard to think all the way back from now, when the hundred
dresses was like the daily dozen, to then, when everything seemed much nicer.
Oh, yes. She remembered. It had begun that day when cecile first wore her new
red dress. Suddendly the whole scene first wore her new red dress. Suddendly
the whole scene first wore her new red dress. Suddendly the whole scene flashed
swiftly and vividly before maddie’s eyes.
It was a bright blue day in september. No, it must have been october,
because when she and peggy were coming to school, arms around each other and
singing, peggy had said,”you know what? This must be the kind of day they mean
when they say,’october’s bright blue weather.’”
Maddie remembered that because afterwards it didin’t seem like bright
blue weather any more, although the weather had not changed in the slightest.
As they turned from shady oliver street into maple, they both blinked.
For now the morning sun shone straight in their eyes. Besides that, bright
flashes of color came from a group of a half-dozen or more girls across the
street. Their sweaters and jackets and dresses, blues and golds and reds, and
one crimson one in particular, caught the sun’s rays like bright pieces of
glass.
A crisp, fresh wind was blowing, swishing their skirts and blowing their
hair in their eyes. The girls were all exclaiming and shouting and each one was
trying to talk louder than the others. Maddie and peggy joined the group, and
the laughimng, and the talking.
“hi, peg! Hi, maddie!” they were greeted warmly.
“look at cecile!”
what they were all exclaiming about was the dress that cecile had on-a
crimson dress with cap and socks to match. It was a bright new dress and
verypretty. Everyone was admiring it and admiring cecile. For long, slender
cecile was a toe-dancer and wore fancier clothes than most of them. And she had
her black satin bag with her precious white satin ballet slippers slung over
her shoulders. Today was the day for her dancing lesson.
´maddie sat down on the granite curbstone to tie her shoelaces. She
listened happily to what they were saying. They all seemed especially jolly
today, probably because it was such a bright day. Everything sparkled. Way down
at the end of the street the sun shimmered and turned to silver the blue water
of the bay. Maddie picked up a piece of broken mirror and flashed a small
circle of light edged with rainbow colors onto the houses, the trees, and the
top of the telegraph pole.
And it was then that wanda had come along with her brother jake.
They didn’t often come to school together. Jake had to get to school
very early because he helped old mr. Heany, the school janitor, with the
furnace, ro raking up the dry leaves, or other odd jobs before school opened.
Today he must be late.
Even wanda looked pretty in this sunshine, and her pale blues dress
looked like a piece of the sky in summer; and that old gray toboggan cap she
wore-it must be something jake had found-looked almost jaunty. Maddie watched
them absent-mindedly as she flashed her piece of broken mirror here and there.
And only absentmindelly she noticed wanda stop short when they reached the
crowd of laughing and shouting girls.
“come on,” maddie heard jake say.”I gotta hurry. I gotta get the doors
opne and ring the bell.”
“you go the rest of the way,” said wanda.”I want to stay here.”
Jake shrugged and went on up maple street. Wanda slowly approached the group
of girls. With each step forward, before she put her foot down she seemed to
hesitate for a long time. She approached the group as a timid animal might,
ready to run if anything alarmed it.
Even so, wanda’s mouth was twisted into the vaguest suggestion of a
smile. She must feel happy too because everybody must feel happy on such a day.
As wanda joined the outside fringe of girls, maddie stood up too and
went over close to peggy to get a good look at cecile’s new dress herself. She
forgot about wanda, and more girls kept coming up, enlarging the group and all
exclaiming about cecile’s new dress.
“isn’t it lovely!” said one.
“yeah, I have a new blue dress, but it’s not as pretty as that,” said
another.
“my mother just bought me a plaid, one of the stuart plaids.”
“I got a new dress for dancing school.”
“I’m gonna make my mother get me one just like cecile’s.”
everyone was talking to everyone else. Nobody said anything to wanda,
but there she was, a part of the crowd. The girls closed in a tigher circle around
cecile, still talking all at once and admiring her, and wanda was somehow
enveloped in the group. Nobody talked to wanda, but nobody even thought about
her being there.
Maybe, thought maddie, remembering what had happened next, maybe she
figured all she’d have to do was say something and she’d really be one of the
girls. And this would be an easy thing to do because all they were doing was
talking about dresses.
Maddie was standing next to peggy. Wanda was standing next to peggy on
the other side. All of a sudden, wanda impulsively touched peggy’s arm and said
something. Her light blue eyes were shining and she looked excited like the
rest of the girls.
“what?” asked peggy. For wanda had spoken very softly.
Wanda hesitated a moment and then she repeated her words firmly.
“I got a hundred dresses home.”
“that’s what I thought you said. A hundred dresses. A hundred!” peggy’s
voice raised itself higher and higher.
“hey, kids!” she yelled.”this girl’s got a hundred dresses.”
Silence greeted this, and the crowd which had centered around cecile and
her new finery now centered curiously around wanda and peggy. The girls eyed
wanda, first incredulously, then suspiciously.
“a hundred dresses?” they said.”nobody could have a hundred dresses.”
“I have though.”
“wanda has a hundred dresses.”
“where are they then?”
“in my closet.”
“oh, you don’t wear them to school.”
“no. for parties.”
“oh, you mean you don’t have any everyday dresses.”
“yes, I have all kinds of dresses.”
“why don’t you wear them to school?”
for a moment wanda was silent to this. Her lips drew together. Then she
repeated stolidly as though it were a lesson learned in school,” a hundred of
them. All lined up in my closet.”
“oh, I see,” said peggy, talking like a grown-up person.
“the child has a hundred dresses, but she wouldn’t wear them to school.
Perhaps she’s worried of getting ink or chalk on them.”
With this everybody fell to laughing and talking at once. Wanda looked
stolidly at them, pursing her lips together, wrinkling her forehead up so that
they toboggan cap slipped way down to her brow. Suddendly from down the street
the school gong rang its first warning.
“oh, come on, hurry,” said peggy.”your hundred dresses sound
bee-you-tiful.”
More shouts of laughter greeted this, and off the girls ran, laughing
and talking and forgetting wanda and her hundred dresses. Forgetting until
tomorrow and the next day and the next, when peggy, seeing her coming to
dresses, would remember and ask her about the hundred dresses. For now peggy
seemed to think a day was lost if she had not had some fun with wanda, winning
the approving laughter of the girls.
Yes, that was the way it had all begun, the game of the hundred dresses.
It all happened so suddendly and unexpectedly, with everybody falling right in,
that even if you felt uncomfortable as maddiw had there wasn’t anythin you
could do about it. Maddie had there wasn’t anything you could do about it.
Maddie wagged her head up and down. Yes, she repeated to herself, that was the
way it began, that day, that bright blue day.
And she wrapped pu her shavings and went to the front of the room to
empty them in the teacher’s basket.
Now today, even though she and peggy had been late to school, maddie was
glad she had not had to make fun of wanda. She worked her arithmetic problems
absentmindelly. Eight times eight . . . let’s see . . . nothing she could do
about making fun of wanda. She wished she had the nerve have the courage to
speak right out to peggy, to say,”hey, peg, let’s stop asking wanda how many
dresses she has.”
When she finished her arithmetic, she did start a note to peggy.
Suddendly she paused and shuddered. She pictured herself in the school yard, a
new target for peggy and the girls. Peggy might ask her where she got the dress
she had on, and maddie would have to say that it was one of peggy’s old ones
that maddie’s mother had tried to disguise with new trimmings so that no one in
room 13 would recognize it.
If only peggy would decide of her own accord to stop having fun with
wanda. Oh, well! Maddie ran her hand through her short blonde hair as though to
push the uncomfortable thoughts away. What difference did it make? Slowly
maddie tore the note she had started into bits. She was peggy’s best friend,
and peggy was the best-liked girl in the whole room. Peggy could not possibly
do anything that was really wrong, she thought.
As for wanda, she was just some girl who lived up on boggins heights and
stood alone in the school yard. Nobody in the room thought about wanda at all
except when it was her turn to stand for oral reading. Then they all hoped she
would hurry up and finish and sit down, because it ook her forever to read a
paragraph. Sometimes she stood up and just looked at her book and couldn’t, or
wouldn’t, read at all. The teacher tried to help her, but she’d just stand
there until the teacher told her to sit down. Was she dumb or what? Maybe she
was just timid. The only time she talke was in the school yard abour her
hundred dresses. Maddie remembered her telling about one of her dresses, a pale blue one with cerise-colored trimmings. And
she remembered another that was brilliant jungle green with a red sash.”you’d
look like a christmas tree in that,” the girls had said in pretended
admiration.
Thinking about wanda and her hundred dresses all lined up in the closet,
maddie began to wonder who was going to win the drawing and color contest. For
girls, this contest consisted of designing dresses, and for boys, of designing
motor boats. Probably peggy would win the girl’s medal. Peggy drew better than
anyone else in the room. At least that’s what everybody thought.
You should see the way she could copy a picture in a magazine or some
film star’s head. You could almost tell who it was. Oh, maddie did hope p+eggy
would win. Hope so? She was sure peggy would win. Well, tomorrow the teacher
was gouing to announce the winers.
Then they’d know.
Thoughts of wanda sank further and further from maddie’s mind, and by
the time the history lesson began she had forgotten all about her.
The next day it was drizzling. Maddie and peggy hurried to school under
peggy’s umbrella. Naturally on day like this they didn’t wait for wanda
petronski on the corner of oliver street, the street that far, far away, under
the railroad tracks and up the hill, led to boggins heights. Anyway they
weren’t taking chances on being late today, because today was important.
“do you think miss mason will surely announce the winners today?” asked
peggy.
“oh, I hope so, the minute we get in,” said maddie, and added,”of course
you’ll win, peg.”
“hope so,” said peggy eagerly.
The minute they entered the classroom they stopped short and gasped.
There were drawings all over the room, on every ledge and window sill, tacked
to the tops of the blackboards, spread over the bird charts, dazzling colors
and brilliant lavish designs, al drawn on great sheets of wrapping paper.
There must have been a hundred of them all lined up!
These must be the drawings for the contest. They were! Everybody stopped
and whistled or murmured admiringly.
As soon as the class assembled miss mason anounced the winners. Jack
beggles had won for the boys, she said, and his design of an outboard motor
boat was on exhibition in room 12. along with the sketches by all the other
boys.
“as for the girlls,” she said,”although just one or two sketches were
submitted by most, one girl-and room 13 should be very proud of her-this one
girl actually drew one hundred designs-all different and all beatifull. In the
opinion of the judges, any one of her drawings is worthy of winning the prize.
I am happy to say that wanda petronski is the winner of the girls medal.
Unfortunately wanda has been absent from school for some days and is not here
to receive the applause that is due her. Let us hope she will be cak tomorrow.
Now, class, you may file around the room
quietly and look at her exquisitive drawings.”
The children burst into applause, and even the boys were glad to have a
chance to stamp on the floor, put their fingers in their mouths and whistle,
though they were not interested in the dresses. Maddie and peggy were amoung
the first to reach the balckboard to look at the drawings.
“look, peg,” whispered maddie,” there’s that blue one she told us about.
Isn’t it beatiful?”
“yeah,” said peggy,” and here’s that green one, boy, and I thought I
could draw!”
while the class was circling the room, the monitor from the principal’s
office brought miss mason a note.
Miss masson read it several times and studied it thoughtfully for a
while. Then she clapped her hands and said,
“attention, class. Everyone back to his seat.”
When the shuffling of feet had stopped and the room was still and quiet,
miss mason said,”I have a letter from wanda’s father that I want to read to
you.”
Miss mason stood there a moment and the silence in the room grew tense
and expectant. The teacher adjusted her glasses slowly and deliberately. Her
manner indicated that what was coming-this letter from wanda’s father-was a
matter of great importance. Everyone listened closely as miss mason read the
brief note:
“dear teacher: my wanda will not come to you school any more. Jake also.
Now we move away to big city. No more holler polack. No more ask why funny
name. Plenty of funny names in the big city. Yours truly.,
jan petronski.”
A deep silence met the reading of this letter. Miss mason took her
glasses off, blew on them and wiped them on her soft white handkerchief. Then
she put them on again and looked at the class. When she spoke her voice was
very low.
“I am sure none of my boys and girls in room 13 would purposely and
deliberately hurt anyone’s feelings because his name happened to be a long
unfamiliar one. I prefer to think that what was said was said in
thoughtlessness. I know that all of you feel the way I do, that this is a very
unfortunate thing to have happen. Unfortunate and sad, both. And I want you all
to think about it.”
The first period was a study period. Maddie tried to prepare her
lessons, but she could not put her mind ons her work. She had a very sick feeling in the bottom of her stomach. True,
she had not enjoyed listening to peggy ask wanda how many dresses she had in
her closet, but she had said nothing. She had stood by silently, and that was
just as bad as what peggy had done. Worse. She was a coward. At least peggy
hadn’t considered they were being mean, but she, amddie, had thought they were
doing wrong. She had thought, supposing she was the one being made fun of. She
could put herself in wanda’s shoes. But she had done just as much as peggy to
make life miserable for wanda by simply standing by and saying nothing. She had
helped to make someone so unhappy that she had to move away from town.
Goodness! Wasn’t there anything she could do? If only she could tell
wanda she hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings. She turned around and stole a
glance at peggy, but peggy did not look up. She seemed to be studying hard.
Well, whether peggy felt bdly or not, she, maddie, had to do something.
She had to find wanda petronski. Maybe she had not yet moved away. Maybe peggy
would climb the heights with her and they would tell wanda she had won the
contest. And that they thought she was smart and the hundred dresses were
beatiful.
When school was dismissed in the afternoon, peggy said with pretended
casualness,” hey, let’s go and see if that kid has left town or not.”
So peggy had had the same idea as maddie had had! Maddie glowed. Peggy
was really all right, just as she always thought. Peg was really all right,
just as she always thought. Peg was really all right. She was o.k.
The two girls hurried out of the building up the street toward boggins
heights, the part of town that wore such a forbidding air on this kind of a
november afternoon, drizzly, damp, and dismal.
“well, at least,” said peggy gruffly,”I never did call her a foreigener
or make fun of her name. I never thought she had the sense to know we were
making fun of her anyway. I thought she was too dumb. And gee, look how she can
draw! And I thought I could draw.”
Madddie could say nothing. All she hoped was that they would find wanda.
Just so hse’d be able to tell her they were sorry they had all picked on her.
And just to say how wonderful the whole school thought she was, and please not
to move away and everybody would be nice. She and peggy would fight anybody who
was not nice.
Maddie fell to imagining a story in wich she and peggy assailed any
bully who might be going to pick on wanda.”petronski-onski!” somebody would
yell, and she and peggy would pounce on the guilty one. For a time maddie
consoled herself with these thoughts, but they soon vanished and again she felt
unhappy and wished everything could be nice the way it was before any of them
had made fun of wanda.br-r-r! how drab and cold and cheerless it was up here on
the heights! In the summer time the woods, the sumac, and the ferns that grew
along the brook on the side of the road were lush and made this a beatiful walk
on Sunday afternoons. But now it did not seem beatiful. The brook ahd shrunk to
the merest trickle, and today’s drizzle sharpened the outlines of the rusty tin
cans, old shoes, and forlorn remnants of a big black umbrella in the bed of the
brook.
The two girls hurried on. They hoped to get to the top of the hill
before dark. Otherwise they were not certain they could find wanda’s house. At
last, puffing and panting, they rounded the top of the hill. The first house,
that old rickety one, belonged to old man svenson. Peggy and maddie hurried
past it almost on tiptoe. Somebody said once that old man svenson had shot a
man. Others said”nonsense! He’s anold good-for-nothing. Wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
But, false or true, the girls breathed more freely as they rounded the
corner. It was too cold and drizzly for old man svenson to be in his customary
chair tilted against the house, chewing and spitting tobacco juice.even his dog
was nowhere in sight and had not barked at the girls from wherever he might be.
“I think that’s where the petronski live,” said maddie, pointing to a
little white house with lots of chicken coops at the side of it. Wisps of old
grass stuck up here and there along the pathway like thin wet kittens. The
house and its sparse little yard looked shabby but clean.
It reminded maddie of wanda’s one dress, her faded blue cotton dress,
shabby but clean.
There was not a sign of life about the house except for a yellow cat,
half grown, crouching on the one small step close to the front door. It leapt
timidly with a small cry half way up a tree when the girls came into the yard.
Peggy knocked firmly on the door, but there was no answer. She and maddie went
around to the back yard and knocked there. Still there was no answer.
“wanda!” called peggy. They listened sharply, but only a deep silence
pressed against their eardrums. There was no doubt about it. The petronskis
were gone.
“maybe they just went away for a little while and haven’t really left
with their furniture yet.” Suggested maddie hopefully. Maddie was beginning to
wonder how she could bear the hard fact that wanda had actually gone and that
she might never be able to make amends.
“well,” said peggy,”let’s see if the door is open.”
They cautiously turned the knob of the front door. It opened easily, for
it was a light thing and looked as though it furnished but frail protection
against the cold winds that blew up here in the winter time. The little square
room that the door opened into was empty. There was absolutely nothing left in
it, and in the corner a closet with its door wide open was empty too. Maddie
wondered what it had held before the
petronski moved out. And she tought of wanda saying,” sure, a hundred dresses
. . . all lined up in the closet.”
Well, anyway, real and imaginary dresses alike were gone. The petronski
were gone. And now how could she and peggy tell wanda anything? Maybe the
teacher knew where she had moved to. Maybe old man svanson knew. They might
knock on his door and ask on the way down. Or the post office might know. If
they wrote a letter, wanda might get it because the post office might forward
it. Feeling very downcst and discouraged, the gurls closed the door and started
for home. Coming down the road, way, way off in the distance, through the
drizzlew they cold see the water of the bay, gray and cold.
“do you suppose that was their cat and they forgot her?” asked peggy.
But the cat wasn’t anywhere around now, and as the girls turned the bend they
saw her crouching under the dilapidated wooden chair in front of old man
svenson’s house. So perhaps the cat belonged to him. Theylost to him. They lost
their courage about knocking on his door and asking when the petronski had left
and anyway, goodness! Here was old man svenson was yellow; his house, his cat,
his trousers, his drooping mustacle and tangled hair, his hound loping behind
him, and the long streams of tobacco juice he expertly shot from between his
scattered yellow teeth. The two girls drew over to the side of the path as they
hurried by. When they were a good way past, they stopped.
“hey, mr. Svenson!” yelled peggy.”when did the petronski move?”
old man svenson turned around, but said nothing. Finally he did answer,
but his words were unintelligible, and the two girls turned and ran down the
hill as fast as they could. Old man svenson looked after them for a moment and
then went on up the hill, muttering to himself and scratching his head.
When they were back down on oliver street again, the girls stopped
running. They still felt disconsolate, and maddie wondered if she were gouig to
be unhappy about wanda and the hundred dresses forever. Nothing would ever seem
good to her again, because just when she was about to enjoy something-like
going for a hike with peggy to look for bayberries or sliding down barley
hill-she’d bump right smack into the thought that she had made wanda petronski
move away.
“well, anyway,” said peggy,” she’s gone mnow, so what can we do?
Besides, when I was asking her about all of her dresses she probably was
getting good ideas for her drawings. She might not even have won the contest
otherwise.”
Maddie carefully turned this idea over in her head, for if there were
anything in it she would not have to feel so bad. But that night she could not
get to sleep. She thought about wanda and her faded blue dress and the little
house she had lived in; an old man svenson living a few steps away. And she
thought of the glowing picture those hundred dresses made-all lined up in the
classroom.
At last maddie sat up in bed and pressed her forehead tight in her hands
and really thought. This way the hardest thinking she had ever done. After a
long, long time she reached an important conclusion.
She was never going to stand by and say nothing again.
If she ever heard anybody picking on someone because they were funny
looking or because they had strange names, she’d speak up. Even if it meant
losing peggy’s friendship. She had no way of making things right with wnda, but
from now on she would never make anybody else so unhappy again. Finally, all
tired out, maddie fell asleep.
On Saturday maddie spent the afternoon with peggy. They were writing a
letter to wanda petronski.
It was just a friendly letter telling about the contest and telling
wanda she had won. They told her how pretty her drawings were, and that now
they were studyintg about winfield scott in school. And they asked her if she
liked where she was living now and if she liked her new teacher. They had meant
to say they were sorry, but it ended up with their just writing a friendly
letter, the kind they would have written to any good friend, and they signed it
with lots of x’s for love.
They mailed the letter to boggins heights, writing “please forward” on
the envelope. The teacher had not known where wanda had moved to, so their only
hope was that the post office knew. The minute they dropped the letter in the
mail box they both felt happier and more carefree.
Days passed and there was no answer, but the letter did not come back so
maybe wanda had received it. Perhaps she was so hurt and angry she was not
going to answer. You could not blame her. And maddie remembered the way she
hitched her left shoulder up as she walked off to school alone, and how the
girls always said,”whyn does her dress always hang funny like that, and why
does she wear those queer, high, laced shoes?”
They knew she didn’t have any mother, but they hadn’t thought about it.
They hadn’t thought she had hadn’t thought about it. They hadn’t thought she
had to do her own washing and ironing. She had only one dress and she must have
had to wash and iron it over-night. Maybe sometimes it wasn’t dry when it was
time to put it on in the morning. But it was always clean.
Several weeks went by and still wanda did not answer. Peggy had begun to
forget the whole business, and maddie put herself to sleep at hight making
speeches about wanda, defending her from great crowds of girls who were trying
to tease her with.”how many dresses have you got?” before wanda could press her
lips together in a tight line the way she did before answering, maddie would
cry out,”stop! This girl is just a girl just like you are . . .” and then
everybody would feel ashamed the way she used to feel. Sometimes she rescued
wanda from a siking ship or the hoofs of a runaway horse.”oh, that’s all
right,” she’d say when wanda thanked her with dull pained eyes.
Wanda thanked her with dull pained eyes.
Now it was christmas time and there was snow on the ground. Christmas
bells and a small tree decorated the classroom. And on one narrow blackboard
jack beggles had drawn a jolly fat santa claus in red and white chalk. On the
last day of school before the holidays, the children in peggys and maddie’s
class had a christmas party. The teacher’s desk
was rolled back and a piano rolled in. first the children had acted the
story of tiny tim. They had sung songs and cecile had done soome dances in
different costumes. The dance called the “passing of autumn” In wich she
whirled and spun like a red and golden autumn leaf was the favorite.
After the party the teacher said she had a surprise, and she showed the
class a letter she had received that morning.
“guess who this is from,” she said.”you remember wanda petronski? The
bright little artist who won the drawing contest? Well, she has written me and
I am glad to know where she lives because now I can send her medal. And I hope
it getsthere for christmas. I want to read her letter to you.”
The class saat up with a sudden interest, and listened intently to miss
mason as she read the letter.
“dear miss mason: how are you and room 13? Please tell the girls they
can keep those hundred dresses because in my new house I have a hundred new
ones all lined up in my closet. I’d like that girl peggy to have the drawing of
the green dress with the red trimming and her friend maddie to have the blue
one. For chritmas. I miss that school and my new teacher does not equalize with
you. Merry christmas to you and everybody. Yours truly, wanda petronski.”
The teacher passed the letter around the room for everybody to see. It
was pretty, decorated with a picture of a chritmas tree lighted up I the night
in a park surrounded by high buildings.
On the way home from school maddie and peggy held their drawings very
carefully. They had stayed late to help straighten up after the play and it was
getting dark.
The houses looked warm and invinting with wreths and holly and lighted
trees in their windows. Outside the grocery store hundreds of christmas trees
were stacked, and in the window candly peppermint canes and cornucopias of
shiny bright transparent paper were strung. The air smelled like christmas and
bright lights everywhere reflected different colors on the snow.
“the colors are like the colors in wanda’s hundred dresses,” said
maddie.
“yes,” said peggy, holding her drawing out to look at it under the
street lamp.”and boy! This shows she really liked us. It shows she got our
letter and this is her way of saying that everything’s all right. And that’s
that,” she said with finality.
Peggy felt happy and relieved. It was christmas and everything was fine.
“I hope so,” said maddie sadly. She felt sad because she knew she would
never see the little tight-lipped polish girl again and couldn’t ever really
make things right between them.
She went home and she pinned her drawing over a torn place in the
pink-flowered wall-paper in the bedroom. The shabby room came alive from the
brilliancy of the colors. Maddie sat down on the edge of her bed and looked at
the drawing. She had stood by and said nothing, but wanda had been nice to her anyway.
Tears blurred her eyes and she gazed for a long time at the picture.
Then hastily she rubbed her eyes and studiedd it intently. The colors in the
dress were so vivid she had scarcely noticed the face and head of the drwing.
But it looked like her, maddie! It really did. The same short blonde hair, blue
eyes, and wide straight mouth. Why, it really looked like her own self! Wanda
had really drawn this for her. Wanda had drawn her! In excitmement she ran over
to peggy’s.
“peg!” she said.”let me see your picture.”
“what’s the matter?” asked peggy as they clattered up the stairs to her
room, where wanda’s drawing was lying face down on the bed. Maddie carefully
lifted it up
“look! She drew you. That’s you!” she exclaimed. And the head and face
of this picture did look like the auburn-haired peggy.
“what did I say!” said peggy.” She must have really liked us anyway.”
“yes, she must have,” agreed maddie, and she blinked away the tears that
came every time she thought of wanda standing alone in that sunny spot in the
school yard close to the wall, looking stolidly over at the group of laughing
girls after she had walked off, after she had said,”sure, a hundred of them-all
lined up . . .”
THE GREAT BALLOON ASCENSION
I went to the library today and read everything that I could find on
balloons. It seems the army and navy and air force ant the weather service all
use a lot of balloons. One of their troubles is that if they send a balloon up
with instruments, such as thermometers and barometers, half the time they never
get the balloon or the instruments back. Sometimes they send up bigger balloons
with all sorts of complicated radio equipment which automatically sends back
information. These are very expensive and if there’s much of a wind they often
lose these too. Then of course there are the biggest balloons, wich go up with
a gondola that will carry a man. Naturally they always take a lot of
precautions with these because the men who go up want to come back in one
piece. They object to being lost with the balloon.
I’ve thought quite a bit about it and I’ve decided that I could do
everybody a great service if I could develop a medium-size balloon, say about
the size of my big plastic silage bag, that would be very cheap but would carry
some instruments wich would always get back. I have wht I think is a brilliant
idea. I can send up homing pigeons in the balloon and they can fly back. Of
course a pigeon wouldn’t be able to carry a very heavy instrument, so any
thermometers or barometers that were sent up with the balloon would have to be
small enough to be strapped to the pigeon’s leg, but if I can work out all the
other details the armed forces ought to be able to figure out how to makie
small instruments.
A real trained homing pigeon would be best, naturally, but all pigeons
tend to find their way back home. I don’t intend to waste time finding just the
right pigeon because I haven’t got much time. I have to fly back to naples next
week. Uncle al got the ticket today. There’ll be just time enough for me to finish
my experiments in space research with my plastic balloon. If my idea works,
henry reed, inc., should really be on the map. I expect I’ll be made a
lieutenant in the army and navy and at lesast a general in the air force.
I asked uncle al about the pigeons again at dinner tonight. He sayd they
are all part homing or racing pigeons and probably would be able to find their
way home from quite a distance. Anyhow, I’m sure they’ll do and I’m going to
slip over as soon as it gets dark and catch a good healthy one.
Wednesday, august 21st
I toldn midge about my idea today and she thinks it sounds wonderful.
She was a little doubtful at first that we would be able to work out all the
details but before the day wasover we had pratically everything figured out. In
fact, I think we should be able to send up our balloon tomorrow.
We did some of the preliminary work today. We took the pigeon that I
caught last night and went down the road half a mile with it, carrying it in a
basket. Then we let it out. It flew straight back home. I’d put a red leg band
around it so there wasn’t any mistake. There it was sitting on top of the barn.
If I can,I’ll catch the same pigeon again tonight.
We found a round wicker basket in midge’s basement which mrs. Glass gave
to us. This afternoon I built a small slotted cage for the pigeon. It has a
little door that slides up and down. The problem of how to release the pigeon
after he has been up in the air for while was a tough one. And for a while I
didn’t think we could solve it. Midge gave me the idea.
“we’ll have to put the pigeon to sleep somehow,” she said.”then we can
send an alarm clock up in the basket with him to wake him up after he’s been up
for say half an hour.”
Of course she was just kidding but it gave me an idea.
Aunt mabel has an old-fashioned round alarm clock upstairs in the guest
room. She didn’t want to part with it at first but I offered to b«uy it and
finally she gave it to me. When the alarm goes off, the little thumb screw or handle on the back that you
use to wind the alarm goes around and around. I fastened a wire to this and a
string to the wire. When the alarm goes off it winds up the string. The string
runs over a pulley and is atatched to the little door of my pigeon cage and it
gradually raises the door. It looks sort of complicated and homemade but it
works. Midge and I tried it three or four times and it opened the door every
time. We are all set and tomorrow is the great day.
Thursday, august 22nd
We had the great balloon ascension today. The balloon went up and it
came down. I don’t know whether you would call it a success or not because it
didn’t work out exactly as midge and I had planed. I don’t think we will be as
famous as I had hoped, but it isn’t really our fault. Still I’m going to write
to the air force and tell them my
scheme. Maybe they can try it out in the middle of a desert someplace where they won’t be bothered by all
the complications that we ran into. I guess the best way to explain just why
the experiment wasn’t completely succesuful is to tell everything that happened
today.
It took us much longer to get the balloon ready than we had expected.
There was considerable work and also we had some interruptions. We spent a good
part of the morning chasing mr. Baines’s sheep. Mr. Baines had turned about
thirty sheep into the pasture out back of my lot. They found a hole in the
fence someplace. At least, eight of them did. We were busy working on the
balloon, trying to attach the basket to the plastic bag, when suddendly these
sheep walked thourh the woods and stood there staring at us. We thought we
would chase them back where they came from but when I went to look I couldn’t
find the hole. Maybe they jumped the fence, I don’t know.
They weren’t bothering us so we let them graze a while on the lot, but
then they wandered out toward the road. Three of them started acrosss just as a
big green sedan came by. Grover’s corner is such a little place it isn’t really a town at all, and a lot of
people don’t even slow down when they go through. This man must have been going
sixty miles an hour and he missed those sheep by inches. He swerved and there
was a screech of tires and his car rocked back and forth. He managed to get it
under control again but it was certainly close.
We went across the street to midge’s house and tried to call mr. Baines
but no one answered the phone. I don’t know whether he was away otr out in the
fields.
We went back to the lot to see what had happened to the sheep but when
we arrived they had dissappeared. We thought they had gone back where they came
from but a few minutes later we heard a “baa.”
“they’re over at apple’s,” said midge.”I bet he loves that.” The thought
of it tickled her so much that she sat down and laughed about it.
I wanted to see exactly what he would do when he discovered the sheep
and we took time out to go over by the edge. The sheep weren’t in the front
yard so we went on back to where we could look into the back part of his lot.
There were the sheep, all eight of them, iside the wire enclosure or pen that mr.
Apple had built. The gate had evidently been left open and they had simply
walked in.
“I wonder why he hasn’t noticed them,”I said.”usually he’s out here with
a cannon if a sparrow lands on the place.”
“I know,” said midge.”they aren’t home. I saw them driving out in their
car right after breakfast this morning. She was all dresses up so I suppose
they went to new york or philadelphia or someplace to go shopping.”
“if those sheep do wander into the front yard they’ll eat all her
flowers,” I said.”maybe I ought to slip over and close that gate. They can’t do
any harm in there.”
“that’s not a bad idea,” said midge,”but I think we ought to do it for
mr. Baines rather than for mr. Apple. It will keep his sheep from getting
killed on the highway.”
I slipped through a hole in the hedge, walked across the lawn, and
closed the gate to the wire pen. The sheep were busily eating and didn’t bother
to look up.
About eleven o’clock midge went over to her house for something and she
called mr. Baines again. This time mrs. Baines answered. Mr. Baines had gone
with his hired man to come auction sla where he hoped to buy some dairy cows,
and would not be back until later. She said hewould be over in his truck to get
the sheep as soon as he got home. That was sttled, so we forgot about the sheep
and went back to our balloon.
There’s no use going into all the details with the troubles we had
getting the basket attatched and getting my pigeon cage rigged up just right.
We spent most of the morning at it and so it was after lunch before we went to
get the cylinder of gas. This way too heavy to handle and I had to go back and
get uncle al’s tractor and cart.
We had quite a time getting the balloon inflated. I had read enough to
know that youdon’t inflate a balloon all the way so that it’s nice and fat like
a sausage. Instead it should be only half full and look sort of limp. Then as
it goes higher and higher the gas expands and the balloon fills out.
It took us half an hour to locate a hose to attach to the cylinder to
use for inflating the plastic bag. Finally we managed it. About three-thirty we
had the balloon inflated just right and it was tugging at the ropes. Everything
looked promising.
I’d caught the same pigeon the night before and I got him and put him in
the little slotted cage. I hooked up the alarm clock and set the alarm to go
off in about fifteen minutes. I didn’t have any instruments to strap to the
pigeon’s leg, but since this was just as experimental run we figured that
wasn’t necessry. The main idea was to prove that it would work. From the way
the balloon kept tugging at that anchor rope there wasn’t much doubt that it
would work.
“what if it goes up too fast?” midge asked.
“how can it go up too fast?” I said.
“well, then, too far,” she said.”supposing it goes up so far that the
pigeon can’t breathe. Doesn’t the air get thinner the higher you go?”
I had to admit that it did but I doubted if our balloon would get up
that high. However, midge kept worrying about it.
“well, I’ll tell you what that we we didn’t have a long rope. The
balloon was tied with a piece of clothesline and that was only a few feet
long.” A really good strong twine would do the trhick,” I said.”do you suppose
you could find a ball?”
“I think so,” midge said and started to go across the street to her
house. She had gone only a few feet when she turned around and said,”what about
witnesses?”
“what do you mean, witnesses?”
“we ought to have someone who sees all this and can swear to it
afterwards. Even the wright brothers had a few people watching.”
I had to admit that she had a good point. The only tro9uble was that if
we invited a lot of people over to see our great experiment and then it
flopped, we would feel foolish, just as we had when they discovered that our
oil well wasn’t an oil well at all. I certainly thought it would work, but so
did all those air force scientists when they fired their first rockets down in
florida. Instead they blew up. I didn’t know what to do.
“I know,” said midge.” We can take pictures.”
That was a wonderful idea, and we both decided to get our cameras.
It was about twenty minutes to four when I walked into kitchen. Aunt
mabel had just taken some cookies out of the oven but I was so excited that I
didn’t wait to get one of them. I rushed upstairs, got my camera, and hurried
back toward the lot. Midge was crossing the street as I approached and we
reached the barn together. Agony as usual was tagging along with me.
We had tied the balloon out in the middle of the lot where it would be
clear ofd the trees when it started up. There was a big stump there and I had
driven a spike into this. There was a loop in our anchor rope and this had been
slipped over the end of the spike. The wicker basket was about six inches off
the ground, suspended by four ropes from the bottom of the plastic bag.
We stopped and took pictures of our balloon from several angles and then
I found several bricks. Since I had put the pigeon in his cage, all we had to
do was put the bricks in the basket and let it make an experimental flight tied
to midge’s string. We walked up to it, neither of us suspecting a thing, and so
were both flabbergasted when we looked inside. There sitting in the basket was
siegfried, the apples’ white cat. He had knocked over the alarm clock, upset
the cage, managed to get the door open somehow, and had killed the pigeon. When
he saw us he glared at us and started waving his tail back and forth as though
daring us to take the pigeon away from him.
I’ve never seen anybody as mad midge was she was so mad she couldn’t say
a word, which means that she was as as she can possibily get. She sputtered and
stuttered and jumped up and down. I looked around for a stick. In the first
place siegfried is a big cat and I didn’t want to tangle with him a couple of
good swats, but before I could find one midge thought of something else.
“I hope you go up so high you never come back,” she said, and she
reached out and grabbed the rope. Just at that moment agony either smelled the
cat, or saw him, or heard him, or found out somehow what was going on. He came
rushing up from behind me and made a leap. He lended in the wicker basket just
as midge pulled the anchor rope off the spike. Midge said later that she was in
such a rage she didn’t realize for a minute that agony had jumped into the
basket. By the time she did it was too late.
With both the cat and the dog, and of course the dead pigeon, in the
basket, the balloon didn’t go up very fast. There is really no excuse for my
not having caught the anchor rope. I guess I didn’t undestand what midge had
done for a minute. By this time the balloon was quite a way up in the air. I
rushed over and made a leap for the end of the rope but just missed it.
“agony’s in there!” I said to midge.
Midge nodded dumbly.”yes I know he is,” sha said.
We both stood there like a couple of idiots while the balloon kept
getting higher and higher. We were sort of hypnotized and we stood watching as
it kept moving on toward the tops of the trees.
I doubt if either agony or siegfried know what was happening for the
first kminute or two. As the balloon drifted upward, for a while I could hear
siegfried apiting. Then he let out an angry yowl and a minute laterr there was
a yip from agony. I suppose siegfried scractched him. Then siegfried’s head
appeared above the edge of the basket. I think he was about to jump out but
suddendly he saw he was up in the air and couldn’t, and after that I guess he
was just too terrified to fight agony any more.
“what are we going to do?” midge asked in a scared voice.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
The balloon reached the level of the treetops and began drifting slowly
over toward apple’s. midge and I traipsed along after it. I don’t know what we
planned to do but I felt I had to trail that balloon and get agony down
somehow.
The balloon just missed the big oak tree and then went over above mr.
Apple’s lawn. Midge and I followed as far as the edge and stood looking through
it. There was scarcley any breeze and the balloon moved very slowly. If agony
hadn’t been in the basket it would have been a beatiful sight and I would have
been proud of it. As it was I was just plain scared.
It drifted on with the basket swinging back and forth gently beneath the
big plastic bag. Then it passed directly over the apple’s house. As it did
siegfried poked his head over the edge of the wicker basket and saw his chance.
I’ll have to admit that he is a pretty smart cat. He didn’t hesitate but
jumped. The basket was about eight feet above the roof but of course that was
no jump at all for siegfried. The roof is a steep, gabled slate affair and
certainly not a very good place for a landing field. Only a cat could have done
it without slipping down and over the edge. As it was, siegfried very nearly
lost his hold. He managed to get one paw over the peak as he landed. Somehow he
pulled himself up and crouched there. He was too scared to stir.
I suppose agony wondered what had become of the cat and he poked his
head over the edge. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d jumped in the
basket and I imagine it was the first time he realized that he was up in the
air. I would like to have seen the expression on his face. At the time,
however, all I was worried about was that he might become panicky and jump.
^”stay in there, agony,” I shouted.”we’ll get you down.”
I didn’t know how I was going to get hom down but I was hoping. Up until
this time midge and I had followed along like a couple of big oafs, fascinated
by that sight of that balloon up in the air, and not really thinking at all.
Slowly we began to come out of it.
“well, I might as well take some pictures,” midge said.
“I guess agony’s on his way out into the great blue yonder. Maybe I can
win a prize with my picture.”
“I’m going to go see if somebody can’t help us,” I said.
For the first time I halfway wished that agony’s original owner would
appear and want his dog. I would have been glad to see anyone who would help me
get agony back down to earth again. But no one did appear and I started running
for home. At least I could ask aunt mabel for advice.
About halfway home I saw mr. Ainsworth standing in his yard, looking up
in the sky with a puzzled expression on his face.
“is that contraption something of yours?” he asked.
I nodded.”it’s a balloon, but my dog got in the basket by mistake and
I’ve got to get him down!”
“your beagle’s in there?” mr. Ainsworth asked.
Again I nodded.”who do you think I should call? The state police? Do you
suppose they could help me?”
“mayybe you’d better call out the army and theycould shoot it down.”
Then suddendly he grinned.”that’s it,” he said.”that isn’t up so high. Maybe I
can shoot it down for you. Come on.”
We hurried to his house where he got out a 22 riffle. Then we got in his
car and drove down the road. Midge was back by the road by this time and we
picked her up too.
The balloon had drifted on and was over the middle of a big pasture
beyond the apples’. We got out of the car and hurried into the pasture a short
distance. Mr. Ainsworth looked around carefully and then up at the balloon. “ a
twenty-two long will carry about a mile.” He said.” I want to be sure where the
bullet is going to land before I go firing up in the air.”
I wasn’t too keen on the idea of his firing that 22 in agony’s direction.” Are
you sure you can hit the balloon without hitting the basket?” I asked.
Mr. Ainsworth looked at me and snorted.” Son, I’ve hunted ducks for
forty-five years. I may be sixty-seven years old but my hand’s still pretty
steady. If I can’t hit that balloon without killing your dog, then I’ll take up
knitting.”
He raised his gun and fired. He waited a second and fired twice more.
“the trouble with this set-up is you can’t tell whether you hit it or
not. I think I’ve hit that bag but I’ll give it a couple of more shots and then
we’ll wait and see what happens.”
The balloon was still rising slowly and was probably another twent-five
or thirty feet higher than when it had passed over mr. Apple’s house. It was
also drifting very gradually across the field. We followed a short distance
behind. Mr. Ainsworth fired three times more before we reached the fence.
“that’s got at least four or five holes in it,” he said.” The trouble is
that there isn’t much presure inside the bag to force the gas out.”
“if the holes are up near the top, the gas will leak out,” I said.”of
course it may take quite a while through little holes like that.”
“all right, we’ll make sure there’s some near the top,” he said, and he
fired another three shots.
We all stood at the fence for several minutes, watching the balloon
closely. When it had drifted almost to the far side of the next field, I
climbed over the fence to go after it.
“I think it’s settling a little,” said mr. Ainsworth.”it’s certainly not
rising any more. You go on ahead and follow it. I’ll go get in the car and
drive around and down maple road. That’s straight ahead about three fields
over. By the time it reaches that we sould be able to tell what it’s doing.”
Mr. Ainsworth was right. It was fifteen minutes later before we were
positive the balloon was settling, and I had to follow it about half a mile
beyond maple road, but it did settle. Toward the last it came down rather fast
and for a few minutes I was scared it would come down too fast and that agony
would be hurt. The basket landed with a bump but agony jumped out uninjured. He
was really glad to see me.
Mr. Ainsworth came up and together we examined the plastic batg. It was
full of holes. I think almost every shot he fired must have hit.
“I’m certainly glad I found you,” I said.”you saved agony’s life.”
“I enjoyed doing it,” said mr. Ainsworth.”it isn’t every day that a man
gets to shoot down balloon carrying a
beagle.”
Mr. Ainsworth dropped us off at the barn. There wasn’t much left of all
our equipment. The balloon was full of holes, the pigeon was dead, the alarm
clock didn’t seem to work any more, and the wicker basket hadn’t been much good
to begin with. Both midge and I felt pretty discouraged.
“some day I’ll kill that cat,” midge said.
“hey, what about the cat?” I asked.”do you suppose he’s still up there
on the roof?”
we hurried over to the edge and looked through. Siegfried was still
clinging to the peak of the roof. He knew better than to move because those
slates were slipery.
“how do you suppose the apples are going to get him down from there?”
“I think they should get him down the same way we got agony down,” midge
said.”shoot him down.”
“the apples still aren’t home,” I said, looking at their empty garage.
“they’ll have a nice pleasant surprise when they do get back,” midge
said and started laughing.”I’ll bet that will keep mr. Apple busy for a
while-figuring out how that cat got up there.”
It was a funny idea and we both sat down and laughed about it for a
while. There just wasn’t any possible way that cat could have gotten up there
except by being dropped from an airplane or balloon.
“don’t worry,” said midge.” They’ll blame us anyhow. Mrs. Apple will
claim that you picked up the cat by the tail and threw him up there.”
“I wonder how soon they’ll be back,” I said.”sooner or later that cat
will either try to make a move or he’ll
get so tired he can’t hang on any longer. If he falls he’ll be killed.”
“well, I’m going to go over and hold a net and wait for him,” midge
said.”I don’t feel a bit sorry for him.”
She did though, and we both got more and more worried. There was a big
tree toward the front of the house and I had the idea that if the cat could be
coaxed up in that direction he might be able to make a leap into the tree.
Midge and I walked out to the road to take a look. When we got there we saw
that it would be a pretty long leap.
“they might stay out to dinner for all we know,” I said.
“they’ve been go0ne since early this morning.”
“all right,” midge said finally.”I suppose we’d better call the fire
department. I’ll do it but I’m going to say who I am, because whatever happens
the apples are going to be sore.”
The hook-and-ladder truck arrived at about quarter to five, just when
people began returning from work. Everyone thought there was a fire and
stopped. People are naturally curious and I guess they would as soon see a cat
rescued as watch a fire. Anyhow, inside of fifteen minutes there must have been
thirty cars parked beside the road and there was a whole group gathered on mr.
Apple’s lawn. Among them was mr. Glass and my uncle al, but midge and I stayed
very carefully on our side of the hedge. We didn’t see how anyone could connect
us with that cat being on the roof, and we wanted to keep it that way.
The firemen got the ladder up and a man was halfway up to the edge of
the roof when the apples came home. Mr. Apple was too scared to be nasty at first.
Is uppose her thought his house was on fire. They got out of the car and one of
the firemen told mrs. Apple the cause of all the excitement. She looked up, and
when she saw siegfried on the peak of the roof she very nearly fainted. Mr.
Apple and a fireman helped her over to a garden bench where she sat down.
“how do you suppose that cat got up there?” one of the firemen asked.
Mr. Apple just shook his head. We could hear everyone talking from where
we stood at the edge and they all seemed to be puzzled.
After the fireman reached the edge of the roof he still had to put up
another short ladder and hook it over the peakin in order to get to siegfried.
He finally did it, though, and siegfried was so glad to get down that he didn’t
scartch the fireman.
Everything had gone very well up to this point. The apples were acting
almost human. Mrs. Apple was full of thanks to the firemen and mr. Apple hadn’t
screamed at anybody for being on his lawn. A tall, sandy-haired man who had
appeared with the apples stood by a lilac bush watching everything and saying
nothing. Just when it appeared that all the excitement was over there were a
couple of loud baas from the big back yard beyond the hedge. Midge and I looked
at each other in surprise. Mr. Bains still hadn’t come for his sheep.
Mr. Apple was surprised too, and then he was suspicious. He hurried over
to the hedge and looked through the opening. From the bellow he gave you would
have thought he was being murdered. He jumped up an down and shouted something
that I couldn’t undestand, and he looked as though he were going to have
apoplexy.
I guess everybody else thought the same thing and they all hurried over
to find out what was the matter. Of course none of them understood why he was
so mad and after they had looked though the hedge they still didn’t know
anything amore than they had before. Midge and I hurried back to see what he
would do. We arrived just in time to see him open the gate and rush inside his
wire fence. He screamed and shouted and waved his arms.
Of course the poor sheep were scared half out of their wits. They all
rushed through the gate and went running out through the gap in the hedge into
the front yard.
There wasn’t much left of the grass inside the fence. After all, eight
had been there all day and they had had nothing to do but eat. It was cropped
down almost to the roots. They had made a very thorough and very clean job of
it. It wouldn’t need mowing for a long time. Apple pointed at the ground,
dancing up and down, and I wasn’t certain whether he was going to cry or blow
up. The sandy-haired man walked over, wnet through the gate, and stood talking
with apple for several minutes. Mr. Apple calmed down a little bit but he was
still quite excited. The sheep went baaing off down the road but, as I said to
midge, I thought we had done our dutty by them. It wasn’t our fault if. Mr.
Apple let them out on the road to be killed.
Some of the people stood around a few minutes longer, wondering what in the world had happened to mr. Apple.
However, there wasn’t anything else to see. The fire truck drove away and soon
everyone had gone home. It was dinner time so midge and I went home too.
Aunt mabel was home when I got there but she had been up to the road a
few minutes earlier, watching siegfried’s rescue. Uncle al didn’t appear for
another ten minutes.
“well, that was quite a lot of excitement,” aunt mabel said as we sat
down to dinner.”how on earth do you suppose that cat got up there?”
“no one seems to know,” uncle al said, looking at me.
“however I was talking to mr. Ainsworth just before I came in.”
I could tell from uncle al’s expression that he suspected something.
After all it wasn’t my fault that siegfried had jumped in the basket and there
was no reason why I shouldn’t tell them what had happened, so I did. All the
time that I was explaining things uncle al kept running his hand over his face.
“if I hadn’t grown up with your mother I would swear all this was a
dream,” he said when I finished.
“what on earth was mr. Apple screaming about there at the last?” aunt
mabel asked.
“oh, that,”uncle al said.”that is the explanation of our little mystery
about all his objections to trespassing. That tall fellow in the brown sut was
jim weber. He used to be county agent around here years ago, and now he’s with
a seed company in philadelphia. I thought I recognized him and later on I went
over and talked to him. That’s why I was a little late getting back. It seems
that mr. Apple has developed some new kind of grass. Or at least he thinks he
has. Now, this may sound ridiculous, but his grass is supposed to grow in a
sort of a spiral. It’s a curly grass and
doesn’t need mowing very often. He’s got some idea that it’s immensely valuable
and it may be, although weber sayd that such discoveries or developments never
make a great deal of money. Anyhow, apple as been working on four or five
strains of grass and this is the one he considers to be the final answer. He
thinks it will make him famous. He planted a plot in the back yard behind that
edge and put up a wire enclosure around it. According to weber he’s been so secretive and mysterious about it that’s
it’s ridiculous.
I guess he was afraid someone would steal his secret. Anyhow, after a
lot of negotiations and fiddle-faddle, he arranged for a seed company to send a
representative up to see this grreat discovery. Jim weber was the man they
sent. The trouble is that when he did get out to look at it they found that
some sheep had been locked up inside the enclosure and had eaten pratically all
the grass.”
Uncle al paused and looked at me.”how did those sheep get in there?” he
asked.
I guess uncle al must be what they call psychic because there wasn’t any
possible way that he could know that I had anything to do with those sheep
being in mr. Apple’s enclosure.”they got through a hole in the fence at the
back of our lot,” I explained.”midge and I chased them and they went through
the edge i9nto mr. Apple’s place. Of course that would be the only time that he
ever left the gate open to his grass plot. I guess that grass must be good. The
sheep went right in there and started eating it. I slipped over and closed the
gate and midge called mr. Baines. We forgot all about them until we heard mr.
Apple scream. Besides we didn’t know that was special grass.”
“well, mr. Apple is very disappointed,” said uncle al,”and I can’t say
that I blame him, but after all if he hadn’t been so mysterious you’d have
known that he was ansious to protect that grass and would have chased the sheep
out instead of locking them in. anyhow, jim weber told him this would be a good
test of the grass. If it comes back it will be proof that it’s tough.”
THE GIRL IN PINK
Ruth would be married the first Tuesday in november. Even before school
started, a week after hans’ light had come into the window, the house was
humming with work and plans. Esther was so busy and excited she almost forgot
about school. But, of course, never entirely. In the middle of gathering eggs
or putting away dishes or peeling potatoes, she would suddendly think:
“next week I am going to school!”
what a mixup her feelings were! She was glad and she was curios. But she
was worried too. From going to town and even to the fair, she knew how it was
going to be in many ways. She could not show more if she wore dress the color
of a cardinal. Only in a crowd of dark dresses exactly like, and white bonnets
and black shoes and white aprons, was she hidden. At the fair, where hundreds
of people wore different styles and colors, she had been absolutely clear and
alone among them, like one black bird against the sky. At school she would show
every day, every hour.
At the fair, in a little booth, there had been a wooden bird help up for
men to shoot with guns. She would be held up like that, alone, at school.
The time came closer. Friday. Saturday. Sunday. It was not until they
had come home from meeting Sunday night that father mentioned what was going to
happen the next morning.
Mother said, as usual,”esther, it is time for bed.”
Father reached out and touched her as she passed him, and said,”sit down
at the table for a little. There is something we must talk about. Besides-“ he
looked at mother and nodded toward the cupboard where the books were kept.”if
you will bring the book, I have something to read.”
Esther sat down. Ruth sat down too, with her knitting. Mother brought
the bible and set it in front of father, sitting down beside him, then, with
her hands folded on her lap.
“tomorrow, esther, you must begin at the school,” father said.
Esther’s fingers wanted to move on her lap, but she held them quiet.
Only her toes stirred in her high shoes, wiggling and wiggling.”later we will
try to have a school of our own here,”
He said,”but now they say you must go to this one for a while.” He
looked steadily at her.”the children at glanced at mother and seemed to wait
for her to add something.
So she said,”esther has seen some of those different things already. On
the streets and in the town.”
“but not in the same room!” father said. And he turned to the worn big
hook before him. He knew this book so well that it did no take him long to find
what he wanted, and esther knew from what he chose to read that he too had been
thinking of the first step away.
“”behold,’” he read,”’he put bits in the horses’ mouths, that theyy may
obey us; and we turn about their whole body.’ You see the meaning of this,
esther? A small thing may seem smaller than it really is.”
This was true. Mother sat nodding.
“”behold also the ships, which though they be so great, and are driven
of fierce winds, yet are they turned about with a very small helm . . .’”
she had never seen a ship, but she had heard of them. Mother had seen
ships near philadelphia; she often told of them with wonder.
“’even so, the tongue is a little member, and boasteth great hings.
Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!’” he looked closely at
her.”esther, I only tell you these things so you will understand why it is you
will remain by yourself. Though we have learned always to love our enemies, and
so never fight . . . “
ruth gave a little gasp at his words and he looked at her. She blushed
and said nothing, though he was looking a question. Mother said quickly,”ruth
means the children in the school are not enemies.”
“I did not finish,” father said.”I meant only to say they were not her
friends. Esther will look at the teacher and do as the teacher sayd, unless it
is something she is told never to do, ehre at home. But I do not expect her to
look at the children.”
Ruth looked closely at her knitting and pretended to count. Mother said
anxiously,”except-“
“except to keep from falling over them!” father said, and smiled. Mother
smiled too, then, and ruth.
Esther was glad they smiled.
“now,”father said in a gentle voice,”you may go to bed.”
Esther wanted to tell father what she had been thinking lately, and that
she would never, never go away. But she could not find the words to say it
with. Even the next morning when only the two of them rode in the wagon, out of
the yard and down the road toward the school, she could find no words. One
reason she could not say it, of course, was that she could think of no way to
do so without mentioning the name of dan.
Even if school had been away for dsan, it need not be away for her. If
you did not kindle a little fire in the first place. If you did not kindle a
little fire in the first place, you would never have a big one that you could
not manage to put out.
The bell rang as they turned the last great bend in the road and saw the
school on its little hill. Esther jumped, and father said,”it is only the first
bell. There are always two, one five minutes early so slow scholars will
hurry.”
She had known this, for dan had told her. She had jumped because of the
exciting thought that the bell was ringing now for her. But she did not say so.
Father helped her down outside the school. He handed her the
lunch-basket and said,”I will be here waiting for you when school is over at
three o’cclock.”
Suddendly she realized how many houirs it was going to be. She turned to
say this to him, but he drove away without looking back, and she was alone.
She stood still. For the fire of her she could not stir off the road and
over the bridge and onto the school-lot where children were running in every
direction. Nobody seemed to notice her at all.
Then the bell rang again. A woman appeared in the doorway at the top of
two wide stone steps. She called something and the children began to run toward
her. When they stood in a long crooked line, one behind the other, she stood
aside and they marched in.
Esther looked down the road where father had disappeared. But she heard
the teacher calling from the door again.”hello! aren’t you coming in?”
Esther had to move now, she knew it. She took a deep trembling greath
and crossed the bridge. She did not look up at all, but only at the path and at
the steps and then at the teacher’s white shoes fastened with a neat row of
buttons on either foot.
“your name is esther lapp?” the teacher asked.
Esther nodded.
“we are glad to see you,” the teacher said, and took esther’s hand.
Inside she led the way down an aisle between two long rows of seats. What a
noise! Everywhere were laughing and whispering, like a thousand starlings in a
tree.
“you will sit here,” the teacher said, and esther felt the good strong
seat under her. She sat looking at the desk. The wooden top was covered with
scribbles she could not read very well and with pictures of things she did not
recognize. The teacher went to the front of the room and rapped with a little
stick and the noise gradually died away.
Things began to move by. Hands went up. The teacher talked and called
out one name and another. Pencils were passed in long boxes. Paper came in
sheets, some colored, just as dan had said. There was small pair of scissors
and a large box of crayons. And then there were books, lovely books with
pictures of more things than esther had ever seen. Looking at the pictures she
did not have to look at the children, and presently she began to breathe deeply
again.
At noon she sat still when the others went outside. Her lunch-basket lay
under her desk, but she did not feel at all hungry. The teacher came to her and
said in a kind voice,”would you rather eat here today? Don’t you want to go
outside in the sun?”
She shook her head.
The teacher went back to her own big desk and ate a lunch from a paper
bag. She had a long blue container, too, that had milk in it, and a small red
cup for a cap. She did not say anything, but when she saw esther eating slowly
and looking at the cup, she smiled. Presently she went again to ring the bell.
The very first person to come in was a girl dressed all in pink. When
she appeared, esther was looking at the, door, but dropped her eyes so quickly
she saw only a kind of pink cloud, really, like the heart of a sunset.
The pink cloud came down the aisle and stopped beside the desk in front
of esther’s. now esther remembered seeing the pink cloud, and esther looked up
“are you amish?”
esther nodded. The girl sat down but twisted herself about in the seat
and smiled.”I’m glad I sit by you,” she said.
Suddendly, though she did not know why the girl was glad, esther felt
glad too. She did not say so, but only sat looking at her desk and then, once
more, at the wonderful books. The children all came in, filling the room with
noise and motion, until the teacher rapped, again, with her stick.
It was still very bad, for esther felt squeezed into her desk and into
the room and into the crowd of children and even her heart felt tight and her
stomach a little sick. But it was not as bad as it had been that morning. Over
her book, over her pencil and paper, somehow between esther and all of the
others, was the girl in pink.
Twice during the afternoon she turned with a smile.
Never in her life had esther dreamed how wonderful it could be to see
father sitting in the buggy, after school finally ended, waiting for her to
come. He sat very straight, looking neither to the right nor to the left,
Even when the teacher called,”good afternoon!”
As they drove off down the road toward home, esther looked back once and
saw the girl in pink lift her hand to wave good-by. But of course she did not
lift her hand to answer, or even so much as glance back again. Father did not
mention the school. He did not even ask her how the day had been, but began to
tell her of all the things that had happened at home during the day.
For days the school made esther feel so tight and so terrible that she
could scarcley wait until it ended and she could hurry outside where father sat
patiently in the buggy, waiting behind the patient horses, whose names she
knew. Each day she could not wait to pat them and speak to them.
The teacher was kind enough. She wore colored shirts and was pleasant to
look at when she sat still at her desk. But when she got up she was entirely
too him. Her bones looked uncomfortable, showing at the base of her neck in
hard wing-points, like the wings of a plucked chicken, when she wrote on the
blackboard. Her voice stretched and broke in two when the boys made her cross.
For a feww days they did it on purpose, many many times. Esther felt ashamed
for them and looked at the floor when it happened. But the boys did not seem in
the least ashamed.
Esther did as father had told her and never looked at the children-at
least when they were looking at her. But almost every time she glanced up,
somebody was looking. They laughed too. Jumpy laughter. All of a sudden one of
them would burst out and then everybody else joined in. it made esther want to
laugh too, so her throat ached with laughter. But then she learned that the
laughter was unkind.
She knew this because the teacher scolded about it.
“now we won’t have this silly laughing!” she said, and pounded on the
desk with her little stick.
But they did have it, anyhow, whether she said yes or no, and no matter
how hard she pounded.
Esther didn’t know the laughing was at her until the girl in pink said
it. She was sitting directly in front of esther, and did not laugh. Instead,
she turned around suddendly one day and said,”I’m not laughing at you! I
wouldn’t!”
Esther looked at her in surprise. Of course it was good to know she
wouldn’t, but it was not good to know the others were. She felt her face begin
to burn.
“I like you!” said the girl in pink.”my name is mary.”
Mary was the most beatiful and important name in the world for a girl.
Esther had always thought so. This mary, her skin as rozy as her dress, had
hair that fell in little golden curls like wisps of silk. Sometimes a curl
almost went into esther’s ink-bottle. It never quite went in, but brushed over.
Esther reached out once and moved the curl away. It was exactly like the silk
in a milkweed pod. It felt like a downy feather. It was so beatiful it made a
shiver go through her fingers, and her heart suddendly beat very fast.
Father would not like her to be friends with mary, or even to look at
her. If anybody in the world was really differnet frm esther herself and all
her people, that one was mary. She wore pink one day and blue the next and then
yellow, but esther liked pink the best. She laughed a good deal. She tossed her
hair when the boys chased her in the games at recess, and squealed when they
caught her. All the other girls wanted to walk by her side and whisper with
her, back and forth. Even when she did not wear the pink dress, esther still
thought of her as the pink girl. This was because of her pretty skin and her
hands, on wich she wore two small which were bare from her little socks upward
until they vanished in her fluffy skirt. Mary was like the pretty girls made of
glass in shop windows.
“how beatiful you are!” esther thought many times a day.
One morning mary turned around with a smile during the writing
exercise.”I’m writing you a letter,” she said.”why don’t you write one to me?”
Esther looked at the pencil in her hand. She had been making great a’s
and b’s and c’s and all the other letters in perfect rows. She knew how to put
some of them together; she could not think about writing a letter to mary.
Father had said,”you will not look at the other children,” and already she
looked at mary all the time, as much as possible. Writing a letter would be
worse than looking, she knew that without being told. She went n making a’s and
b’s and c’s in perfect rows.
Soon mary turned around again. She slipped a folded paper onto esther’s
desk.
“haven’t you written mine yet?” she whispered.
Esther’s mouth felt dry and she swallowed deeply before she could
answer.”not yet,” she said.
It was like a promise. She had not meant it to be, but it was. Mary
smiled and said,”it gets easier and easier to write. You’ll learn soon. Letters
are good practice.”
She turned back to her desk.
The folded note lay on esther’s desk. She looked at it for a long time
before she touched it. Was receiving a letter as bad as writing one? Father
received letters from seed companies and from the school officials and many
others who lived outside the neighborhood. After all, if somebody sent you a
letter, it wasn’t your fault, was it? She thought of dan here in the schoolroom
year after year. Did somebody in pink send letters to dan? Or maybe somebody
with buttons on his coat? All the boys had buttons on their coats.
She picked up the letter and unfolded it. In very tall wriggly letters,
mary had written:
Dear friend esther:
I like you. I think your dress is pretty. Your apron is cute too. And
your little hat.
Your friend,
Mary.
She sat still. What a good letter it was! How could maryy think such a
dark dress was pretty? The white apron was very common and plain, yet mary
thought it was cute. A nice little word-cute! Cute! Cute! It was like a canary
singing. She lifted her hand to her bonnet, tied securely under her chin with
her hair tucked under. It was possible that her own hair would make curls, she
thought. When she took out the braids and combed it at night, it fell in wide
waves over her shoulders.
Even the bible said,”if a woman have long hair, it is a glory to her…”
Suddendly she felt happy, the way she sometimes felt when she woke and
the sun was shining in her window. Mary turned to see whether the letter had
been opened, and smiled.
Esther must say something, she knew. Not to say something would be
unkind, and she was taught always to return one kidness with another. Or
perhaps even with two.”thank you very much,” she said.”it is a beatiful
letter.”
“as soon as you can, write one to me,” mary said. Then,
“do you play jump-the-rope? Would you like to jump with me at recess?”
esther caught her greath. She had watched the girls jumping every day
but never even thought of jumping herself.”I don’t know how,” she said.
Mary looked surprised.”it’s easy,” she sadi.”I’ll teach you. Except-maybe-do
you think your skirt will get in the way?”
The teacher rapped sharply with her little stick.”no whispering!” she
said.”mary, have you finished the exercise?”
“no, ma’am,” mary said.
“then work, don’t visit,” the teacher said.”it’s almost time for
recess.”
Mary grave a quick little glance at esther, and winked an eye! She had
not finished her exercise because she had written a letter. It was their
secret. She began to write very fast on the exercise. Esther could watch the
motion of her pretty pink elbow as she wrote.
Esther tucked the letter inside her desk. She could look at it every day
at school, she thought. Every day she could know again that mary thought her
dress was pretty, that her apron was cute, and so was her little hat.”I wish I
could show mary my long hair!” she thought.
Suddendly, then, she thought about vanity. Hair was tucked away under
bonnets so there would be no thinking about brushing and curling. A cold wind
seemed to blow through her very soul. Could mary’s letter-such a kind thing!-be
the first step away? It was impossible. . . .
The bell rang. Instantly, like a sudden burst of water, the children
began to flow out of the room.
“don’t push,” the teacher said.”in order now! The third grade is first
out today. Harry-take your turn. Kenneth-“
mary rose in front of esther and they waited for their turn to march. In
the most natural way in the world, mary took esther’s hand in her own. Her hand
was soft and warm, as kind as her letter. Esther felt the turn of her
fingers.”I know!” mary said.”we’ll play jacks instead of jump-the-rope. Just
you and i. We don’t want to jump!”
“I’ve never played jacks either,” esther said.
“you haven’t? well, I’ll show you. It’s as easy as fun,” mary said.
Always, her wolfe life, esther had learned what kingness was. It was to
think of others before yourself. It was to think of their comfort before your
own. This mary had thought of how hard it would be to jump in a long dress with
high shoes and heavy stockings. A long skirt would switch and catch in the
rope. But jacks-esther had never played, but she had watched the others play at
recess several times. It was simple, bouncing a little ball and picking up
first one jack, then two, until you swept up all eight at the same time.
Mary kept hand.”we speak for the step!” she cried the minute they were
outside.”esther and I get the step!”
Mary kept her hand.”wespeak for the step!” she cried the minute they
were outside.”esther and I get the step!”
The others looked at them in surprise, the two of them together.
“you jump,” mary said to the girls who usually played with her.”I’ve
promised to show esther how to play jacks. Then we’ll all have a game.”
So she managed to get them out of the way. They wouldn’t be standing
around watching while esther was clumsy, as she was lrearning. The step was
sunny and warm and the maples around the schoolyard were changing color. The
air was golden because of the leaves. Tossing the ball and picking up the
clever little jackstones was a beatiful thing to be doing. One-two-threee! She
felt them sweep into her hand together.
“good! Good!” mary said.
When the bell rang she said,”next time you’ll be able to get them all.”
Oh, it was lovely to march beside mary, proudly into the school again.
Nobody laughed. It was as if esther was just like all the rest.
Sometimes father was so busy that he came later that the school bus.
Esther had never wondered why she shouldn’t go in the bus with the others and
save her father the trouble of leaving his work to come for her.
She knew the reason: plain people did not ride in machines. That day it
seemed foolish to her for the first time. She remembered dan coming along the
road in the car with the boys.”I always wondered. . .” he had said.” Now I
know.”
Mary waved to her from the window of the bus.”see you Monday, esther!”
she called.”see you Monday!” for it was Friday today.
Esther had always been glad when it was Friday before. Now she was
sorry. There was all that quiet sitting in church between Friday and Monday. No
pink girl would be sitting in front of her, but only children in black and gray
and purple and sdark brown. Her own Sunday dress was the color of dead leaves
that had lain under snow all winter long.
She sat on the step to wait, exactly where she had sat at recess a while
before. The leaves glowed brighter as the sun lowered. And there seemeed to be
another glow besides, where mary had sat bouncing the ball. Being kind. There
were kind good people, then, who wore pink. And blue. And red. All colors. . .
She stood up as she heard the buggy coming. Her heart beat fast as if
she had been discovered at a mischief. Or with something she had stolen and
must hide away.
PONY PENNING DAY
Pony penning day always comes on the last Thursday in july. For weeks
before, every member of the volunteer fire department is busy getting the
grounds in readiness, and the boys are allowed to help.
“I’ll do your chores at home, paul,” offered maureen,”so’s you can see
that the pony pens are good and stout.”
Paul spent long days at the pony penning grounds. Yet he could not have
told how or by whom the tents were rigged up. He hardly noticed when the cutes
for the bronco busting were built. He did not know who pounded the race track
into condition. All he knew was that the pens for the wild ponies must be made
fast. Once the phantom was captured, she must not escape. Nothing else
mattered.
The night before the roundup, he and maureen made last-minute plans in
phantom’s stall.” First thing in the morning,” paul told maureen,”you lay a
clean bed of dried sea grass. Then fill the manger with plenty of marsh grass
to make phantom feel at home.”
“oh, I will, paul. And I’ve got some ear corn and some ‘ lasses to coax
her appetite, and grandma gave me a bunch of tiny new carrots and some
rutabagas, and I’ve been saving up sugar until I have a little sackful.”
In the midst of their talk, grandpa, looking as if he had a surprise,
joined them.
“I hain’t rode on a roundup to assateague for two year,” he smiled,
hiding one hand behind his back,”but I recommember we allus had a chaw and a
goody after the ponies was rounded up and afore we swimed’em across the
channel. Here, paul,” he said, with a strange huskiness,”here’s choclit bar fer
ye to take along.” And he pressed the slightly squashed candy into paul’s hand.
It was dark and still when paul awoke the next morning. He lay quiet a
moment to gather his wits. Suddendly he shot out of bed.
Today was pony penning day!
His clothes lay on the chair beside his bed. Hurriedly he pulled on his
shirt and pants and thudded barefoot down to the kitchen where grandma stood
over the stove, frying ham and making coffee for him as if he were man-grown!
He flung out his chest, sniffing the rich smells, bursting with
excitement.
Grandma glanced around proudly.”I picked the first ripe figs of the year
fer ye,” she exclaimed.”they’re chuckful of goodness. Now sit down, paul, and
eat a breakfast fit for a roundup man!”
Paul sat on the edge of his chair. With one eye on the clock he tried to
eat the delicious figs and ham, but the food seemed to lump in his throat.
Luckily grandpa and maureen came downstairs just then and helped clean his
plate when grandma was busy testing her cornbread in the oven with a long wisp
of straw.
“I got to go now,” paul swallowed, as he ran out the door. He mounted watch
eyees, a dependable pony that grandpa had never been able to sell because of
his white eyes. Locking his bare feet around the pony’s sides, he jogged out of
the yard.
Maureen came running to see him off.
“whatever happens,” paul called back over his shoulder,” you be at old
dominion point at tne o’clock on a fresh pony.”
“I’ll be there, paul!”
“and you, paul,” yelled grandpa.”obey yer leader. No matter what!”
day was breaking. A light golden mist came up out of the sea. It touched
the prim white houses and the white picket fences with an unearthly light. Paul
loped along slowly to save his mount’s strength. He studied each house with a
new interest. Here lived the woman who paid maureen three dollars for hoeing
her potato patcyh. There lived kim horsepepper, the clamdigger they had worked
for. Mr. Horsepepper was riding out of his lane now, catching up with paul. All
along the road, men were turning out of their gates.
“where do you reckon you’ll do most good, bub?”
taunted a lean sapling of a man who, on other days, was an oysterman. He
guffawed loudly, then winked at the rest of the group.
Paul’s hand tightened on the reins.”reckon I’ll do most good where the
leader tells me to go,” he said. Blushing hotly.
The day promised to be sultry. The marsh grass that usually billowed and
waved stood motionless. The water of assateague channel glared like
quicksilver.
Now the cavalcade was thundering over a small bridge that linked
chincoteague island to little piney island. At the far end of the bridge a scow
with a rail fence around it stood at anchor.
In spite of light talk, the faces of the men were drawn tuight with
excitement as they led their mounts onto the scow. The horses felt the
excitement, too. Their nostrils quivered, and their ears swiveled this way and
that, listening to the throb of the motor. Now the scow began to nose its way
across the narrow channel. Paul watched the white hills of assateague loom
near. He watched the old lighthouse grow sharp and sharper against the sky. In
a few minutes the ride was over. The gangway was being lowered. The horses were
clattering down, each man taking his own.
All eyes were on wyle maddox, the leader.
“split in three bunches,” wyle clipped out the directions loud and
sharp.”north, south, and east. Me and kim and the beebe boy will head east.,
wimbrow and quillen goes north, and harvey and rodgers south. We’ll all meet at
tom’s point.”
At the first sound of wyle’s steam-whistle voice, the sea birds rose
with a wild clatter.
“they’re like scouts,” paul said to himself.”they’ve going to warn the
wild ponies that the enemy has landed.”
“gee-up!” shouted wyle as he whirled his horse and motioned kim and paul
to follow.
Paul touched his bare heels into watch eye’s side. They were off! The
boy’s eyes were fastened on wyle maddox. He and kim horsepepper were following
their leader like the wake of a ship.
As they rode on, paul could feel the soft sad give way to hard
meadowland, then to pine-laden trails. There were no paths to follow, only
openings to skin through-openings that led to water holes or grazing grounds.
The three horses thrashed through underbrush, jumped fallen trees, waded
brackish pools and narrow, winding streams.
Suddendly paul saw wyle maddox’ horse rear into the air. He heard him
neigh loudly as a band of wild ponies darted into an open grazing streetch some
twenty yards ahead, then vanished among the black tree trhunks.
The woods came alive with thundering hooves and frantic horse calls.
Through bush and brier and bog and frantic horse calls. Through bush and brier
and bog and hard marshland the wild ponies flew. Behind them galloped the three
riders, whooping at the top of their lungs. For whole seconds at a time the
wild band would be swallowed up by the forest gloom. Then it would reappear far
ahead-nothing but a flash of flying tails and manes.
Suddendly wyle maddos was waving paul to ride close.
“a straggler!” he shouted, pointing off to the left.”he went that-a-way!
Git him!” and with a burst of speed wyle maddox and kim horsepepper were after
the band.
Paul was alone. His face reddened with anger. They ewanted to be rid of
him. That’s what they wanted. Sent after a straggler! He was not interested in
rounding up a straggler that couldn’t even keep up with the herd! He wanted the
phantom. Then grandpa’s words flashed across his mind.”obey yer leader. No
matter what!”
He wheeled his pony and headed blindly in the direction wyle had
indicated. He rode deeper into the pine thicket, trying to avoid snapping
twigs, yet watching ahead for the slightest motion of leaf or bush. He’d show
the men, if it took him all day! His thin shirt clung to him damply and his
body was wet with sweat. A cobwed veiled itself across his face. With one hand
he tried to wipe it off, but suddendly he was almost unseated. Watch eyes was
dancing on his hind legs, his nose high in the air. Apul stared into the
sun-dappled forest until his eyes burned in his head. At last, far a3way and
deep in the shadow of the pines, eh saw a blur of motion. With the distance
that lay between them, it might have been anything. A deer. Or even a squirrel.
Whatever it was, he was after it!
Watch eyes plunged on. There was a kind of glory in pursuit that made
paul and the horse one. They were trailing nothing but swaying bushes. They
were giving chase to a mirage. Always it moved on and on, showing itself only
in quivering leaves or moving shadows.
What was that? In the clump of myrtle bushes just ahead? Paul reined in,
he could scarcely breathe for the wild beating of his heart. There it was
again! A silver flash. It looked like mist with the sun on it. And just beyond
the mist, he caught sight of a long tail of mingled copper and silver.
He gazed awestruck.”it could be the phantom’s tail,”
He breathed.”it is! It is! It is! And the silver flash-it’s not mist at
all, but a brand-new colt, too little to keep up with the band.”
The blood pounded in his ears. No wonder the phantom was a straggler! No
wonder she let herself be caught.
“she’s got a baby colt!” he murmured.
He glanced about him helplessly. If only he could think! How could he
drive the phantom and her colt to tom’s point?
Warily he approached the myrtle ticket, then stopped as a hot wave of
guilt swept over him. Phantom and her colt did not want to be rounded up by
men. He could set them free. No one had brought the phantom in before. No one
need ever know.
Just then the colt let out a high, frightened whinny. In that little
second paul knew that he wanted more than anything in the world to keep the
mother and the colt together. Shivers of joy raced up and down his spine. His
breath came faster. He made a firm resolution.”I’ll buy you both!” he promised.
But how far had he come? Was it ten miles to tom’s point or two? Would
it be best to drive them down the beach? Or though the woods? As if in answer a
loud bugle rang through the woods. It was the pied piper! And unmistakably his
voice came from the direction of tom’s point.
The phantom pricked her ears. She wheeled around and almost collided
with watch eyes in her haste to find the band. She wanted the pied piper for
protection. Behind her trotted the fal, all shining and clean with leading him
to tom’s point!
Tom’s point was a protected piece of land where the marsh was hard and
the grass especially sweet. About seventy wild ponies, exhausted by their
morning’s run, stood browsing quietly, as if they were in a corral. Only
occasionally they looked up at their captors. The good meadow and their own
weariness kept them peaceful prisioners.at a watchful distance the roundup men
rested their mounts and relaxed. It was like the lull in the midst of a storm. All was quiet on the surface. Yet
there was an undercurrent of tension. You could tell it in the narrowed eyes of
the men, their subdued voices and their too easy laughter.
Suddendly the laughter stilled. Mouths gaped in disbelief. Eyes rounded.
For a few seconds no one spoke at all. Then a shout that was half wonder and
half admiration went up from the men. Paul beebe was bringing in the phantom
and a colt!
Even the wild herds grew excited. As one horse, they stopped grazing.
Every head jerked high, to see and to smell the newcomers. The pied piper
whirled out and gathered the mare and her colt into his band. He sniffed them
all over as if to make sure that nothing had harned them. Then he snorted at
phantom, as much as to say,”you can cause me more trouble than all the rest of
my mares put together!”
The roundup men were swarming around paul, buzzing with questions.
“how’d you do it,paul?” wyle maddox called over the excited hubbub.
“where’d you find’ em?” shouted kim horsepepper.
Paul made no answer. The questions floated around and above him like
voices in a dream. He went hot and cold by turns. Did he do the right thing by
bringing the phantom and her fal in? miserably he watched the phatom’s head droop.
There was no wild sweep to her mane and her tail now. The free wild thing was
caught like a butterfly in a net. She was webbed in by men, yelling and
laughing.
“beats all!” he heard someone say.”for two years we been trying to round
up the phantom and along comes a spindling youngster to show us up.”
“twas the little colt that hindered her.”
“course it was.”
“it’s the newest colt in the bunch; may not stand the swim.”
“if we lose only one colt, it’ll still be a good day’s work.”
“jumpin’jupiter, but it’s hot!”
the men accepeted paul as one of them now-a real roundup man. They were
clapping him on the shoulder and offering him candy bars. Suddendly he
remembered the bar grandpa had pressed into his hand. He took off the wrapeer
and ate-not because he was hungry, but because he wanted to seem one of the
men. They were trying to get him to talk.”ain’t they a shaggy-lookin’bunch?”
kim horsepepper asked.
“except for misty,” paul said, pointing toward the phantom’s colt.”her
coat is silky.” The mere thought of touching it sent shivers through
him.”misty,” thought to himself wonderingly.”why, I’ve named her!”
the little foal was nursing greedily. Paul’s eyes never strayed from the
two of them. It was as if they might disappear into the mist of the morning,
leaving only the sorrels and the bays and the blacks behind.
Only once he looked out across the water. Two lines of boats were
forming a pony-way across the channel. He saw the cluster of people and the
mounts waiting on the shores of chincoteague and he knew that somewhere among
them was maureen. It was like a relay race. Soon she would carry on.
“could I swim my mount across the channel alongside the phantom?” paul
asked wyle maddox anxiously.
Wyle shook his head.”watch eyes is all tuckered out,”
He said.”besides, there’s a kind of tradition in the way things is
handled on pony penning day. There’s mounted men for the roundup and there’s
boatmen to herd’em across the channel,” he explained.
“tide’s out!” called in clipped tones.”current is slack. Time for the
ponies to be swimmed across. Let’s go!”
suddendly the beach was wild with commotion. From three sides the
roundup men came rushing at the ponies, their hoarse cries whipping the animal
into action. They plunged into the water, the stallions leading, the mares
following, neighing encouragement to their colts.
“they’re off!” shouted wyle maddox, and everyone felt the relief and
triumph in his words.
Kim thumped paul on the back as they boarded the scow for the ride
back.”don’t fret about yer prize,” he said brusquely.”you’ve got the phantom
sure this time. Once in the water she can’t turn back.”
But he was wrong!
On the shores of chincoteague the people pressed forward, their faces
strained to stiffness, as they watched assateague beach.
“here they come!” the cry broke from every throat. Maureen, wedge in
between grandpa beebe on one side and a volunteer fireman on the other, stood
on her mount’s back. Her arms paddled the air as if she were swimming and
struggling with the wild ponies.
Suddenly a fisherman, looking through binoculas, began shouting in a
hoarse voice,” a new-borned colt is afeared to swim! It’s knee-deep in the
water, and won’t go no further.”
The crowds yelled their advice.”what’s the matter with the roundup
men?””why don’t they heft it into deep water-it’ll swim all right!” “why don’t
they hist in on the scow?”
The fisherman was trying to get a better view. He was crawling out over
the water on a wall of piling. It seemed a long time before he put his
binoculars to his eyes again. The people waited breathless. A small boy began
crying.
“sh!” quieted his mother.”listen to the man with the four eyes.”
“the colt’s too little to swim,” the fisherman bawled out. “wait! A wild
pony is breaking out from the mob. Swimming around the mob! Escaping!”
an awed murmur stirred the crowds. Maureen dug her toes in her mount’s
back. She trained her eyes to see the fugitive, but all she could make out was
a milling mass of dark blobs on the water.
The fisherman leaned far out over the water. He made a megaphone of one
hand.”them addle-brained boatmen can’t stop the pony,” his voice rasped.”it’s
outsmarting’em all.”
Maureen’s mind raced back to other pony pennings. The phantom upsetting
a boat. The phantom fleeing through the woods. Always escaping. Always free. She
clutched the neck of her blouse. She felt gaspy, like a fish flapping about on
dry land. Why was the man with the binoculars so slow? Why didn’t he say,”it’s
the phantom!” who else could it be?
Now he was waving one arm wildly. He looked like a straw in the wind. He
teetered. He lost his balance. He almost fell into the water in his excitement.
“it’s the phantom!” he screamed at last.”I can see the white map on her
shoulders!”
the people took up the cry, echoing it over and over.
“it’s the phantom! She’s escaped again!”
maureen felt tears on her cheek, and impatiently brushed them away.
Again the fisherman was waving for quiet.
“hush!” bellowed grandpa beebe.
The people fell silent. They were liken listeners around a
microphone.”it’s the phantom’s colt that won’t swim!” he called out in a voice
so hoarse it cracked.”the pahntom got separasted from abran’-fire new colt.
She’s gone back to get it!”
The people whoooped and hollered at the news.”the phantom’s got a colt,”
they sang out.”the phantom’s got a new colt!”
Again the fisherman was waving for silence.
“she’s reached her colt!” he crowed.”but the roundup men are closing in
on her! They’re making her shove the colt in the water. She’s makin’it swim!”
grandpa beebe cupped his hands around his mouth.
“can the little feller make it?” he boomed.
The crowd stilled, waiting for the hoarse voice. For long seconds no
answer came. The fisherman remained as fixed as the piling he stood on. Wave
after wave of fear swept over maureen. She felt as if she were drowning. And
just when she could stand the silence no longer, the fisherman began reporting
in short, nervous sentences.
“they’re half-ways across. Jumpin’jupiter! The colt! It’s bein’sucked
down in a whirlpool. I can’t see it now. My soul and body! A boy’s jumped off
the scow. Hes swimming out to help the colt.”
The onlookers did not nedd the fisherman with the binoculars any more.
They could see for themselves. A boy swimming against the current. A boy
holding a colt’s head above the swirrling water.
Maureen gulped great lungfuls of air.”it’s paul!” she screamed. “it’s
paul!”
On all sides the shouts went up.”why, it’s paul!”
“paul beebe!”
grandpa leaped up on his mount’s back as nimbly as a boy. He stood with
his arms upraised, his fists clenched.
“god help ye, paul!” his words carried out over the water.”yer almot
home!”
grandpa’s voice was a strong as a tow rope. Paul was swimming steadly
toward it, holding the small silver face of the colt above the water. He was
almost there. He was there!
Maureen slid down from her mount, clutching a handful of name.”you made
it, paul! You made it!” she cried. The air was wild with whinnies and snorts as
the ponies touched the hard sand, then scrambled up the shore, their wet bodies
gleaming in the sun. paul halfcarried the little colt up the steep bank; then
suddenly it found its own legs.
Shouts between triumph and relief escaped every throat as the little
filly tottered up the bank. Almost to the top, her feet went scooting out from
under her and she was down on the sand, her sides heaving.
Maureen felt a new stab of fear.
If only the big ponies would not crush her! That tender white body among
all those thrashing hooves. What chance had she? What chance with the wild wind
for a mother?
But all the wildness seemed to have ebbed out of the phantom. She picked
her forefeet high. Then she carefully straddled her colt, and fenced in the
small white body with her own slende legs.
For a brief second paul’s and maureen’s eyes met above the crowds. It
was as if they and the mare and her foal were the only creatures on the island.
They were unaware of the great jostling and fighting as the stallions sorted
out their own mares and colts. They were unaware of everything but a sharp
ecstasy. Soon the phantom and her colt would belong to them. Never to be sold.
The pied piper wheeled around paul. He peered at the dripping boy from
under his matted forelock. Then he trumpeted as if to say:”this sopping
creature is no mare of mine!” and he pushed paul out of the way while the
crowds laughed histerically.
Dodging horses and people, grandpa beebe made his way over to paul.
“paul, boy,” he said, his voice unsteady,”I swimmed the hull way with
you. Yer the most wonderful and the craziest young’un in the world. Now git
home right smart quick,” he added, trying to sound very stern.”yer about done
up, and grandma’s expectin’ye. Maureen and I’ll see to it that the phantom and
her colt reach the pony pens.”
A DIFFERENT WORLD
Candita opened her eyes. Nothing looked familiar. Pink and blue crepe
paper decorated the ceiling. Then she remembered the airplane. And the subway.
And the new family. This is my new house, she thought. I am in new york.
The flowers and the chocolates and the striped candies had disappeared.
The two little girls, in white dresses, were playing on a blanket on the floor.
It was papa’s voice:”when I have brought candita to school, I can go to
work. Then margarita will take you, rosita, and the little ones, also, to see
the school, and to get candita at the hour of lunch. The time to be at the
school is twelve o’clock. As soon as candita awakes we will go to the school.”
Candita sat up,”I am awake,” she said.
All the tiredness was gone. She was anxious to see the new school.
Last night, although she had been half-asleep, she had asked papa to set
renaldo’s rabbit on a shelf. There it was looking down at her. It now seemed an
old friend who had come along from mayaquez.
Candita put on her dress with design of red flowers, and put on her
sneakers. Mama combed candita’s hair smoothly flat, and as they were leaving,
margarita slipped over candita’s shoulders the pink coat that belonged to
fernanda.
“you must wear this coat,” margarita said, opening the window and
looking out on the street below.”everyone is wearing a warm coat today. It is
witer once more.” Margarita looked at candita.”it is true this coat is a little large for you.” She turned back the
cuffs once, and a second time, and candita’s hands were seen again.
Papa and candita walked downstairs and toward a widestreet into wich
they turned.
“it is bradway,” said papa.”that is the name of this street.”
On either side, the store windows were brimming with color and crowded
with remarkable things. Ladies in flower-splashed summer dresses stood stiffly
in one window. Candita stared.
“these ladies are artificial ones,” said papa.
Another store window was heaped high with vegetables and green bananas
in huge bunches. Dainty high-heeled shoes were aranged in rows in another
window, and in still another were big and little lamps,brightly lighted even
though it was daytime.
Candita could not undestand a word of what people said to each other as
they passed. These people looked different from the people of mayaquez. They
wore dark, more severe clothing. The children, too, did not look or speak like
the children of mayaguez.
“are they speaking english?”
“it is english. And in a short time you will speak as well as I speak.
Even better, perhaps,” said papa modestly.”the school will teach you. You have
never seen such a school as the one we are going to.”
When they turned the corner they saw it. It was a new school, made, it
seemed to candita, entirely of glass.
The glass doors were as tall as those of a cathedral. Candita and papa
walked though them and came into a sunlit hall. They seated themselves on a
bench. Almost at once, from behind closed doors, they heard an orchestra begin
to play. A parade of children of all sizes came walking in pairs down the hall,
passing papa and candita.
Candita had never seen so may children. The youngest was no larger than
josefina, and the oldest was taller than she was. They looked curiosly at her
as they passed, and some whispered and laughed.
It was because of her too-large pink coat, she thought. She slipped out
of it and put it on the bench beside papa.
“this school,” whispered papa,”is not too much like the school of
mayaguez.”
“no,^” she whispered back,”it is not too much like my old school.”
The children all disappeared through another set of doors.
Papa said,”we shall have to ask how one begins to go to this school.”
But he continued to sit beside her in the lonely hall.
A door opened and a tall lady came toward them.
“excuse me,” said papa,”is it possible for candita to become a pupil of
this school? If so, I will give you the information.”
Candita was proud of papa for speaking english so well. Although she did
not undestand a word of what he said, the lady of the school did.
“how do you do, candita,” she said in spanish. To papa she said,”it does
not matter that candita does not speak english. That is, in fact, a good reason
for coming to school. Come into my office, please.”
Papa answered all the questions. When there were no more questions to
answer, he said good-by. To candita, pressing her hand as if he were leaving to
go on a long journey, papa said softly,”I leave you now. In this school it is
necesssary to listen carefully.” After he had gone a few steps, papa came
back.” And to try to learn english.” The lady of the school took candita
upstairs. Together they went into a classroom.
Four boys and two girls were writing at a table. They stopped writing
and stared at candita.
“this is miss singer,” the first lady of theschool told candita.”she is
your teacher.”
To miss singer, seated at her desk and facing the children, she
said,”this is candita.”
“I am very glad to meet you, candita.” Miss singer, too, spoke spanish.
Candita looked long at miss singer. Miss singer’s hair was short, and
golden as sunlight, and her eyes were the color of the sea. The most beatiful
of all were miss singer’s eyeglasses, wich had tiny diamonds around their rims.
Mis singer said,”candita, please sit in the chair beside alvaro. Alvaro,
raise your hand.”
The boy next to alvaro raised alvaro’s hand for him.
When candita had been sitting for a while in the chair beside alvaro,
miss singer came to her and said to her alone, and in a low voice,”we are going
to be good friends, candita.”
Candita loked up at miss singer’s beatiful smiling face and could not
think of what to say. She nodded instead, rapidly, happily.
“candita,” miss singer said, going to the front of the room once more,”
as you are going to be in class from now on, we will explain what we do here.
We read and write and learn a little more english each day. For today, candita,
see what the others do. That is enough for this day wich is your first.”
Miss singer spoke slow and careful spanish as if she, miss singer, were
a little girl in a mayaguez school beginning to read out of a spanish book.
“now candita, I will present you to linda and to carmen. And to rafael
and barnabe and alvaro and luis.”
As soon as possible, she would tell miss singer about the little school
of mayaguez and about the mango trees of mayaguez. She would tell her about the
edge of the beach and the color of the ocean and the stars of the puerto rican
that sparkled like the diamonds of miss singer’s eyeglasses. She would tell
miss singer everything.
Miss singer spoke in english to her class of seven that now included
candita rivera.
Then miss singer said,”candita, I have just asked the others if they like
to come to school. Do you hear what they say, candita?”
“yes, miss singer,” the class chanted together.
Candita nodded.
“say it, too, candita.”
Candita nodded once more.”yes, yes,” she repeated in a whisper to
herself.”yes, miss singer.”
Miss singer walked to a closet and brought back a book for candita.
“now, let us open our books,” said miss singer.”linda, please begin.
Page9.”
Candita, seeing the others open their books, opened hers. There was a
picutre one ach page and there were many words under each picture. She loked
intently at the words as if she could truly undestand them.
Rafael leaned forward. He showed her the line linda was reading aloud.
She studied the line and tried to follow linda, but it was as if she were
trying to catch runing water.
“not so fast, linda,” said miss singer.
Linda came to the end of the page and turned it. Candita turned the
page, too. On the next page there was a picture of a squirrel. Miss singer
talked about the squirrel.
Asquirrel. Candita repeated the sound to herself. It was a little like a
spanish word. Asquirrel, asquirrel. If miss singer would ask her, she could say
this new world, too, but when miss singer told the class to say the new world
aloud, candita only whispered it again.
All morning she hoped miss singer would come and sit beside her as she
had done for a little while with alvaro. She could then begin to describe to
miss singer a few of the things of mayaquez.
Almost at the end of the morning, miss singer did come to sit beside
her.
“candita,” miss singer said, drawing a chair up,”you will never learn
english if I speak to you in spanish. That is why I must speak english to you.
Try to answer in english, too. It doesn’t matter if you do not speak perfectly
at first.”
Candita nodded.
“at first I will try to speak more slowly to you than to the others. We
will begin at once. From now on we speak english. That is the way to learn
english quickly, candita.”
Miss singer had said they were going to be good friends. But how could
she speak to her friend in a language she, candita, did not know?
“I will speak very slowly,” miss singer repeated, but it was as if she
were saying, you must not talk to me, candita, not unless you speak english. It
would be a long time before she would learn enough eenglish to talk to miss
singer, she thought.
Candita looked away from miss singer and down at her desk, giving all
her attention to listening, as papa had said. She tried very hard to listen to
each word and to undestand. She tried so hard, her ears ached with trying. It
was no use. She did not begin to undestand.
How had it happened? A little while ago everrything had seemed right and
good. Now everything was changed. How can I ever learn english quickly? She
thought. How can I begin to learn?
The children, one after the other, read from the book. Candita looked
out of the window at the cool blue sky. She was alone in a strange, new, cold
land where people talked an unknown language. At this moment in mayaguez the
sun was hot and the air warm and the trees and bushes bright with flowers. The
beach was wide and the waves made a soft crashing sound.
She could see it as if she were truly there. She and paquita reyes used
to play all day and talk. That had been the best of all, the talks with paquita
while paquita watched her make little figures out of damp sand and clay.
In the hall a gong rang loud and deep. Its echoing sound hung in the
air.
Everyone in the classroom began to talk.
Linda leaned toward her.” Now we can talk spanish. Where did you come
from? What day was it when you arrived? Was it raining? When I came it rained.
We hood buena vista..”
“and I, too, but from the neighborhood of dulces lavios.”
It was like home. Listening to linda was like mayaquez and like home.
“sit with me,” the girl named carmen said.”eat your lunch here beside
me, linda. We can all sit together. You, too, candita. I have been in this
class two months.”
“and I four months,” said barnabe.”when I came I could not speak. I was
like you.”
“she is little shy,” said carmen.” You were not so shy.”
“she is a shy one, you are right,” said barnabe, laughing again.
“where are you going, candita? Linda asked.” All of us stay in school
for our lunch.”
Candita shook her head. Mama and margarita and the children would be
waiting for her as they had agreed. She hurried downstairs.
Candita shook her head. Mama and margarita and the children would be
waiting for her as they had agreed. She hurried downstairs.
Instead of margarita and mama and the children, fernanda had come.
“there was not enough work for a whole day in the factory so I came to
walk home with you. Margarita has taken the little ones to park.”fernanda put
her arm around candita’s shoulders.”well, how is this school?”
“they speak english.”
“it is strange,” said fernanda,”when one does not undestand, no?”
“yes,” said candita,”it is strange.”
“I went to school for a few evenings but I could not learn. It was as if
the english words escaped from me. I have no ear for words. But children learn
quickly,” fernanda said, looking anxiously at candita.”do not worry.”
The english words escape from me, also, candita thought. I, too, am one
of those who have no ear for words. Fernanda did not have to go to school.
Fernanda did not know that one was all alone in a classroom when one could not
undestand.
Perhaps mama will feel as I do, she thought. Mama had already found it
too cold here. She will wsant to return, too. Then we will all go back to
mayaguez. I hope so. I truly hope so.
She did not say this to fernanda. Perhaps, when they reeached the
apartment, mama would say it herself. Perhaps she would say it today. Candita
began to walk more quickly.
But mama did not talk of returning home.
They had been reading about the squirrel all week.
“rafael,” said miss singer,”what is the squirrel’s name?”
“bushy,” said rafael promptly, stnding up.
“his whole name,” said miss singer.”what is the squirrel’s whole name?
Like your whole name. Your whole name is rafael munz, isn’t it?”
“that is my name,” said rafael.”and the squirrel’s name is bushy.”
Alvaro raised his hand.
“tell us, alvaro,” said miss singer.
“bushy tail,” said alvaro.
“that is right,” said miss singer.”very good, alvaro.”
She turned to candita and said slowly,”you see, candita, alvaro came
only a few weeks before you to this class. Already he understands what we are
saying. Alvaro learns quickly.~”
Candita looked at alvaro. It seemed to her he had not undestood either.
“alvaro,” said miss singer,”tell us how you came to new york.”
Alvaro stood up and smiled but did not answer. He shook his head and
lightly shrugged his shoulders.
“alvaro,” said miss singer,”tell us how you came to new york.”
Alvaro stood up and smiled but did not answer. He shook his head and
lightly shrugged his shoulders.
“alvaro, did you come from san juan?”
“san juan,” repeated alvaro.
“where is san juan?”
alvaro looked over his shoulder.
“in puerto rico?” asked miss singer.
“I come here,” said alvaro.
“how?” said miss singer.”did you walk?” miss singer walked the
forefinger of each hand on her desk.
“yes,” said alvaro, wishing to be agreeable. He smiled at the walking
fingers.
All the children laughed. Alvaro laughed, too.
“on the water? You walked across the water from san juan to new york?”
asked miss singer, raising her eyebrows.
Candita held her breath and listened to each word.
Why were they laughing? She, too, would say yes to everyone one of miss
singer’s questions. The children would laugh at her just as they were laughing
at alvaro.
Alvaro was brave. She would not laugh, candita thought. More likely she
would cry. Yes, she would surely cry. She was very sorry for alvaro.
Miss singer began all over again.”alvaro, did you come from san juan to
new york?”
“yes,” said alvaro, still smiling.
“did you come on a plane to new york?”
“ah, yes,” said alvaro, undestanding at last.”plane.”
“in a plane, you did not walk on the water.”
“ah, no,” said alvaro.
The children could not stop laughing.
Miss singer held up her hand for silence and said to alvaro,”was it a
big plane?”
“big,” said alvaro.
“yes,” said miss singer patinetly,”in a big plane. Sit down, alvaro.”
Alvaro dropped into his seat and drew a deep breath.
Miss singer wrote in a book.
In the little silence, candita made up her mind: she would not say a
single word. She would listen and say nothing. Even when she undestood miss
singer’s question and knew the answer, too. Only when she could talk like miss
singer would she talk in school. Not a day before then. Not in english. Only if
miss singer talked to her in spanish would she answer her.
She would not talk like a small child. She would not say big, plane,
yes, no. she would speak english when she could talk about the shining ocean
and the skimming clouds and the airport and the baby crying because it was a
strange, new, cold land.
She would wait. She would wait until she could talk well enough so they
would say, candita speaks well. She understands and speaks english very well.
Was candita born in new york? She would wait until someone could say, it seems
to me candita speaks as if she were born in new york. . . .
“come here, candita,” said miss
singer.”help me with these crayons, please.”
Candita sat still. Come here were words she knew, but now she looked
away from miss singer.
In her slow, careful, childish spanish, miss singer said,
“come here, candita. Stand beside my desk.”
Candita stood up and came to miss singer’s desk.
In spanish, candita said,”here I am.”
Miss singer looked disappointed.
“now, girls and boys,” said miss singer turning to the others,” take
three crayons each from candita. Candita will come to you with the crayon box.
Help yourselves from the box.” She gave candita a flat wide box full of crayons
of all colors.”after you have chosen your crayons draw something that you saw
yesterday. What day was yesterday, luis?”
“yesterday it was Sunday,” said luis, standing up and speaking in a loud
voice.
“yes, yesterday was Sunday. Where did you go, luis?”
“I go to the zoo,” said luis.
“I went to the zoo,” said miss singer.
“you, too?” said luis, pointing at miss singer.
Everyone except alvaro and candita laughed.
“no, I did not go,” said miss singer,” but you must say,I went to the
zoo.’”
“o.k.,” said luis.”I went to the zoo.”
“did you understand, candita?”
candita said nothing.
Miss singer said in spanish,”please go from one to another so they may
choose the crayons. Then do as the others do, candita. Draw a picture.”
Candita went with the crayons. Then do as the others do, candita. Draw a
picture.”
Candita went with the crayons from one to the other. When everyone had
taken crayons out of the box, candita chose for herself a blue, a red, and a
yellow. They werfe new and bright in color and smelledd pleaasantly of wax in
the warm room. Then she went to her own chair.
Alvaro had begun to draw rapidly, candita watched him. He, too, had been
recently at the zoo, candita thought, for he was drawing a giraffe was because
papa ahd taken her and margarita’s little girls to the zoo. They had all seen
the giraffe the first Sunday candita had been in new york.
Candita began to draw on her paper. Blue for the sky with white uneven
spaces left for clouds. Among the clouds candita drew an airplane. Beneath all
of it she drew a dark blue sea.
When she had finished, she saw that rafael was looking at her picture.
He said in spanish to her,”this is a good picture.”
“it is a scene I remember,” said candita.
“I, too,” said rafael.”the picture you have made recalls it to me.”
Candita said,”far below our plane were a thousand little mirrors.”
“I remember that also,” said rafael.
Miss singer said,”remember, we speak english in the classroom. Are you
speaking english, rafael?”
“she does not yet understand english,” said rafael.
Miss singer shook her head slowly at rafael.
Candita went on drawing. She put some tiny patches of yellow over the
blue of the sea and these places began to look like sunlight on water. More and
more it seemed to her to resemble the ocean hse had flown over. She did not
speak to rafael, rafael spoke, isntead, to barnabe and to linda in english.
On another sheet candita began to draw a dog, asleep, forelegs stretched
out.
Miss singer walked by and stopped to watch her drawing. She said,”we
have clay, too, candita.”
Candita did not answer but she stopped from it a box of green clay.
“do you know what to do with this, candita?”
candita glanced at the box and almost forgot she had decided not to
answer miss singer in english.”yes,yes,”
she wanted to say. There were pictures of clay animals on the box cover.
She knew at once what the clay was for. The clay was like the wet sand of
mayaguez beach but much, much better.
She modeled the sleeping dog out of the clay, giving him a mild,
peaceful expression. Then she made a squirel, looking watchful. She would have
made many more animals but these two had used up the whole box of clay.
“everyone can see them here,” miss singer said, putting candita’s animals
on the window sill, each beside a white-potted geranium.
It seemed to candita that the whole room looked friendlier now that her
animals were on the window sill.
BRIGHT APRIL
The trolley car swayed and bumped along germantown avenue
epilifogal
