Two Little Savages Part 25

"Them's the bow-kays," Sam was heard to say. "Go out an' git some more; dead sure you deserve 'em. Let _me_ know when the calls for 'author' begin?" Then there was more giggling. Yan was fast losing all control of himself. He seized a big stick and strode into the teepee, but Sam lifted the cover of the far side and slipped out. Guy tried to do the same, but Yan caught him.

"Here, I ain't doin' nothin'."

The answer was a sounding whack which made him wriggle.

"You let me alone, you big coward. I ain't doin' nothin' to you. You better let me alone. Sam! S-A-M! S-A-A-A-M!!!" as the stick came down again and again.

"Don't bother me," shouted Sam outside. "I'm writin' poethry--terrible partic'lar job, poethry. He only means it in kindness, anyhow."

Guy was screaming now and weeping copiously.

"You'll get some more if you give me any more of your lip," said Yan, and stepped out to meet Sam with the note-book again, apparently scribbling away. As soon as he saw Yan he stood up, cleared his throat and began:

"Kingbird, fearless crested--"

But he did not finish it. Yan struck him a savage blow on the mouth.

Sam sprang back a few steps. Yan seized a large stone.

"Don't you throw that at me," said Sam seriously. Yan sent it with his deadliest force and aim. Sam dodged it and then in self-defense ran at Yan and they grappled and fought, while Guy, eager for revenge, rushed to help Sam, and got in a few trifling blows.

Sam was heavier and stronger than Yan, but Yan had gained wonderfully since coming to Sanger. He was thin, but wiry, and at school he had learned the familiar hip-throw that is as old as Cain and Abel. It was all he did know of wrestling, but now it stood him in good stead. He was strong with rage, too--and almost as soon as they grappled he found his chance. Sam's heels flew up and he went sprawling in the dust. One straight blow on the nose sent Guy off howling, and seeing Sam once more on his feet, Yan rushed at him again like a wild beast.

A moment later the big boy went tumbling over the bank into the pond.

"_You_ see if I don't get you sent about your business from here," spluttered Sam, now thoroughly angry. "I'll tell Da you hender the wurruk." His eyes were full of water and Guy's were full of stars and of tears. Neither saw the fourth party near; but Yan did. There, not twenty yards away, stood William Raften, spectator of the whole affair--an expression not of anger but of infinite sorrow and disappointment on his face--not because they had quarrelled--no--he knew boy nature well enough not to give that a thought--but that _his_ son, older and stronger than the other and backed by another boy, should be licked in fair fight by a thin, half-invalid.

It was as bitter a pill as he had ever had to swallow. He turned in silence and disappeared, and never afterward alluded to the matter.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "There stood Raften, spectator of the whole affair."]

XV

The Peace of Minnie

That night the two avoided each other. Yan ate but little, and to Mrs.

Raften's kindly solicitous questions he said he was not feeling well.

After supper they were sitting around the table, the men sleepily silent, Yan and Sam moodily so. Yan had it all laid out in his mind now. Sam would make a one-sided report of the affair; Guy would sustain him. Raften himself was witness of Yan's violence.

The merry days at Sanger were over. He was doomed, and felt like a condemned felon awaiting the carrying out of the sentence. There was only one lively member of the group. That was little Minnie. She was barely three, but a great chatterbox. Like all children, she dearly loved a "secret," and one of her favourite tricks was to beckon to some one, laying her pinky finger on her pinker lips, and then when they stooped she would whisper in their ear, "Don't tell." That was all. It was her Idea of a "seek-it."

She was playing at her brother's knee. He picked her up and they whispered to each other, then she scrambled down and went to Yan. He lifted her with a tenderness that was born of the thought that she alone loved him now. She beckoned his head down, put her chubby arms around his neck and whispered, "_Don't tell_," then slid down, holding her dear innocent little finger warningly before her mouth.

What did it mean? Had Sam told her to do that, or was it a mere repet.i.tion of her old trick? No matter, it brought a rush of warm feeling into Yan's heart. He coaxed the little cherub back and whispered, "No, Minnie, I'll never tell." He began to see how crazy he had been. Sam was such a good fellow, he was very fond of him, and he wanted to make up; but no--with Sam holding threats of banishment over him, he could not ask for forgiveness. No, he would do nothing but wait and see.

He met Mr. Raften again and again that evening and nothing was said.

He slept little that night and was up early. He met Mr. Raften alone--rather tried to meet him alone. He wanted to have it over with.

He was one of the kind not prayed for in the Litany that crave "sudden death." But Raften was unchanged. At breakfast Sam was as usual, except to Yan, and not very different to him. He had a swelling on his lip that he said he got "tusslin' with the boys somehow or nuther."

After breakfast Raften said:

"Yahn, I want you to come with me to the schoolhouse."

"It's come at last," thought Yan, for the schoolhouse was on the road to the railroad station. But why did not Raften say "the station"?

He was not a man to mince words. Nothing was said about his handbag either, and there was no room for it in the buggy anyway.

Raften drove in silence. There was nothing unusual in that. At length he said:

"Yahn, what's yer father goin' to make of ye?"

"An artist," said Yan, wondering what this had to do with his dismissal.

"Does an artist hev to be bang-up eddicated?"

"They're all the better for it."

"Av coorse, av coorse, that's what I tell Sam. It's eddication that counts. Does artists make much money?"

"Yes, some of them. The successful ones sometimes make millions."

"Millions? I guess not. Ain't you stretchin' it just a leetle?"

"No, sir. Turner made a million. t.i.tian lived in a palace, and so did Raphael."

"Hm. Don't know 'em, but maybe so--maybe so. It's wonderful what eddication does--that's what I tell Sam."

They now drew near the schoolhouse. It was holiday time, but the door was open and on the steps were two graybearded men. They nodded to Raften. These men were the school trustees. One of them was Char-less Boyle; the other was old Moore, poor as a church mouse, but a genial soul, and really put on the Board as a lubricant between Boyle and Raften. Boyle was much the more popular. But Raften was always made trustee, for the people knew that he would take extremely good care of funds and school as well as of scholars.

This was a special meeting called to arrange for a new schoolhouse.

Raften got out a lot of papers, including letters from the Department of Education. The School District had to find half the money; the Department would supply the other half if all conditions were complied with. Chief of these, the schoolhouse had to have a given number of cubic feet of air for each pupil. This was very important, but how were they to know in advance if they had the minimum and were not greatly over. It would not do to ask the Department that. They could not consult the teacher, for he was away now and probably would cheat them with more air than was needed. It was Raften who brilliantly solved this frightful mathematical problem and discovered a doughty champion in the thin, bright-eyed child.

"Yahn," he said, offering him a two-foot rule, "can ye tell me how many foot of air is in this room for every scholar when the seats is full?"

"You mean cubic feet?"

"Le's see," and Raften and Moore, after stabbing at the plans with huge forefingers and fumbling c.u.mberously at the much-pawed doc.u.ments, said together: "Yes, it says cubic feet." Yan quickly measured the length of the room and took the height with the map-lifter. The three graybeards gazed with awe and admiration as they saw how _sure_ he seemed. He then counted the seats and said, "Do you count the teacher?" The men discussed this point, then decided, "Maybe ye better; he uses more wind than any of them. Ha, ha!"

Yan made a few figures on paper, then said, "Twenty feet, rather better."

"Luk at thot," said Raften in a voice of bullying and triumph; "jest agrees with the Gover'ment Inspector. I _towld_ ye he could. Now let's put the new buildin' to test."

More papers were pawed over.

"Yahn, how's this--double as many children, one teacher an' the buildin' so an' so."