The Splinter, the Thorn, and the Rib
"Oh! oh! oh! Aunt, that hurts. Oh!"
"Keep still, now, keep still! You have a big stick in your toe, and I
must take it out. If you keep pulling like that, I might run the point
of this awl into your foot."
I lay flat on my back on the ground with my sore foot in the lap of
this good woman whom I called Aunt, while she probed the wound to
withdraw a splinter. After considerable wincing on my part, the cause
of my agony was removed and held to view. The splinter was long and
very large; the relief was great, and already I felt as though I could
walk without limping. The kind woman took from her work-bag a bit of
root, chewed it, and put it on my sore toe; then she bandaged the foot
with a piece of white cloth which also came from the handy bag.
My Aunt laid the splinter on a piece of wood and cut it into fine
bits, just as I had seen men cut tobacco for smoking. "Now," said she,
as she scattered the bits in every direction, "that thing cannot do any
more harm. But what is this?" she asked, holding the old bandage up
between the tips of her thumb and index finger of her right hand, and
in her left the bit of pork that had been tied on my toe.
"Why, Aunt," I replied, "that thing in your right hand is the old
bandage, and that in your left is the pig-fat that was put on my toe."
"Why did they put pig-fat on your poor sore toe; who put it on? Bah!
It's nasty!" she exclaimed, as she threw it away as far as she could.
"The white woman who takes care of the children at the school put it on
to draw the splinter out."
"To draw the splinter out!" she repeated in a tone of contempt. Then
she tossed up her fine head, gave shouts of laughter, and said between
the paroxysms; "Oh! this is funny! This is funny! Your White-chests
might as well hitch a bit of pig-fat to their wagon and expect it to
draw a load up the hill! And how long has this pig-fat been tied on
your foot?"
"About four days."
"Without bathing the foot and renewing the bandages?"
"Yes."
"If this white woman takes as much care of the other children as she
has of you,--I'm sorry for them. No children of mine should be placed
under her care,--if I had any."
My Aunt gathered her awl, knife, and other little things into her
work-bag; I looked all about to see if any boys were watching, then I
put my arms around her dear neck and kissed her.
"Are you going to see my mother to-day?" When she answered yes, I said,
"Tell her to come and see me,--very soon."
"I will; but don't keep her running over here all the time," and she
started to go. She had not gone very far when she turned and shouted to
me, "Wash your foot to-morrow morning and turn the bandage over. You
will be well in a day or two."
A boy passing by cried out, "Bell has rung!" and I limped into the
school-room to attend the afternoon session.
When school was out, Lester suggested that we go on the hill to sit
and talk. Turning to me, he asked if I could walk as far as that; I
assured him that I could, so I hobbled along with the boys up the hill.
We found a beautiful grassy spot, and three of us--Lester, Warren, and
I--lay down and looked up into the deep blue sky. Brush sat near by,
carving a horse's head out of a piece of oak. Clouds lazily floated far
above.
"Say, Lester," I called, "you take that one that looks like a buffalo;
Warren, you take that one that is shaped like a bear; and I will take
this one that's like a man smoking a pipe. Now, let's rub them out!"
So, fixing our eyes upon the clouds, we began rubbing the palms of our
hands together.
"Mine is getting smaller, right away, now!" cried Warren.
"Mine too!" echoed Lester.
Brush gave us a look of disgust, and said, "Boys, I think you are the
biggest fools I ever saw,--rubbing out clouds, the idea!"
But we rubbed away, and paid no attention to the contemptuous glances
our friend gave us. My hands began to come down lower and lower; and
then I felt myself rising from the ground, higher and higher I went,
just like a big bird, and suddenly landed on a heavy black cloud. I
looked down; there were the boys still rubbing away, and Brush still
carving. I could see the winding river far below and the birds flitting
about. I wondered what it all meant. I felt the cloud moving away with
me; the boys were growing smaller and smaller, and I noticed that I was
passing over the Indian village. Where is the cloud going with me, and
will it ever stop? I heard a sound that seemed familiar to me,--is it a
bell? Could there be bells in the cloud? I asked myself.
"Wake up, you fools! Supper-bell has rung! Rubbing out clouds, were
you!" said Brush, in derisive tones.
Warren sat up, blinking his eyes, and asked, "Where are we?"
That night, when the boys had settled down in their beds and Gray-beard
had gone downstairs, Edwin asked, "Boys, where've you been this
afternoon? You came to supper late; Gray-beard looked hard at you."
"We've been up the hill," I answered; "I told the boys to hurry along
and leave me; but they wouldn't."
"Who was that Indian woman talking to you before dinner-time?"
"That was my aunt; she saw me when she was going by, and she made me
sit down and she looked at my foot. She took a great big splinter out
of my toe. My! it hurt."
"You're going to get well now. Why didn't you put that splinter in some
buffalo hair, then 't would've turned into a baby."
"Nonsense!" said Brush, "who ever heard of such a thing."
"There's a story like that," replied Edwin.
"Tell that story! tell that story!" cried the boys in chorus.
"But you don't listen; you go to sleep, or you ask fool questions and
stop me."
"We won't stop you; we're going to lie awake."
"All right. I'll tell you that story. Say 'ong!' pretty soon, then I'll
know you're awake."
We all snuggled down, then in chorus cried, "Ong!" and Edwin began:
"'Way long time ago, four brothers lived on earth. Good hunters, they
shoot straight, kill deer, buffalo, elk, and all kinds of animals. They
got plenty of meat and skins. One night, the youngest man came home
very lame; his foot was all swelled up; he had to use his bow for a
cane, and he was groaning, groaning all the time. He lay down and was
real sick, one, two, three days. The other men, they went hunting. When
they were gone, the youngest man got up, took his knife, cut open his
toe, and took out a big thorn, a great big--"
Whack! whack! whack! Quick as a flash the boys put their feet against
the foot-board and pulled the bedclothes taut so that the rest of the
blows fell harmless upon us. We had been surprised by Gray-beard.
Edwin, in his earnestness, and in his belief that a foreign language
can be better understood when spoken loudly, had been shouting his
story in a voice that reached Gray-beard and woke him up. After warning
us against loud talking, the old man went downstairs as stealthily as
he had come.
"Well, boys," said Brush, "that came like a cyclone, didn't it?"
We all agreed that it did.
"Frank, did he hurt your foot?" asked Warren.
"No, the boys kept the quilt up, so he couldn't hit me."
"What did I say last?" asked Edwin.
"You said," I reminded him, "that he cut open his toe and took out a
big thorn."
"Oh, yes," he continued; "he took out a big thorn, a great big thorn.
He wanted to show it to his brothers, so he pulled out some buffalo
hair from his robe and put the thorn inside and laid it away, way
back in the middle of the tent. Then he went after some water to wash
his foot. When he was coming back, he heard something crying like
everything; not like raccoon, not like any kind of bird or animal,
something different. He stood still and listened; it sounded like
coming from inside the tent! So he went slow, easy, and looked in the
tent; there was something moving and crying loud. Then the young man
went inside the tent, and he saw a baby, a little girl baby, and no
thorn. He knew that thorn had turned into a girl baby, crying like
everything. The young man was very glad; he danced on his one well
foot; he took up the girl baby in his big arms and moved like a tree
when the wind blows, and he sang soft, and the girl baby shut her eyes
and went to sleep, e-a-s-y,--just like you!"
"No! We ain't asleep. Go on."
"Well, those big brothers came home, and they were all very glad. They
took the girl baby all round. Then the oldest brother, he said, 'She is
going to be our sister. I wish she would grow right up and run round
the tent.' Then he lifted her four times, and the girl baby grew quick,
and ran round the tent, talking. Then another brother, he said, 'I wish
my sister would grow up and get big enough to go after water.' Then he
lifted the little girl four times, and she got big enough to go after
water. Then the next one, he said, 'I wish my sister would grow big
enough to make moccasins and cook and make lots of things.' Then he
lifted her four times, and the girl grew right up and knew how to make
lots of things. Then the youngest man, he said, 'I wish my sister grown
up woman now.' Then he lifted her four times, and she was a big woman
right away. So in one night that thorn girl baby grew up, and she was
the first woman."
"Why!" said Brush, "that's just like the Bible story of Adam and Eve.
You remember it says, that Adam was the first man God made, and He put
him in a big garden full of flowers and trees. He told him he could eat
everything there except the berries of only one tree, and He showed him
that tree. God made Adam go to sleep, and then He cut open his side and
took out one rib, and out of that bone He made a woman, and He named
her Eve."
"Did He whittle that rib bone just like you whittle a piece of wood
and make men, and horses, and dogs, and other things?" asked Lester.
"Yes, I think He did. Then in that garden there were elephants, and
lions, and tigers, and camels, and lots of other animals; but they
didn't eat each other up. God gave Adam the camels to ride, so he
wouldn't get tired. Camels ride easy, easier than a horse. You know
a horse goes trot! trot! trot! and makes your stomach ache; but a
camel goes just as e-a-s-y, like rocking, like that boat, you know,
when we went on the river and the wind blew, and the boat went up
and down. Why, you know, the difference is just like this: you ride
in a big wagon and it shakes you like everything; you ride in the
superintendent's carriage, and it rides just as easy as anything."
"How do you know?" broke in Warren. "You never rode a camel, and you
never rode in the superintendent's carriage."
"Yes, I have too. I've ridden in the superintendent's carriage that
time I went to interpret for him down to the big village. I rode with
him in his carriage."
"You boys said you wouldn't stop my story," protested Edwin, yawning.
"Say, Brush," I asked, "when that bone was whittled, and it became Eve,
what did she do?"
"Well, one morning she went down to the creek to swim, and, just as she
was going to step into the water by a big willow-tree, she saw a snake
in the tree with a man's head on, and the snake--"
"It wasn't a snake," interrupted Warren; "it was the serpent, the
Sunday-school teacher said so."
"Well, it's the same thing,--the snake and the serpent is the same
thing."
"No, they're not. The serpent is the kind that's poisonous, like the
rattle-snake; and the snake is like those that don't poison, like the
garter-snake and the bull-snake."
"Brush, go on with your story," I broke in impatiently. "Don't mind
Warren; he doesn't know anything!"
"No, he doesn't. Well, the serpent was Satan, and Sa--"
"How can Satan be a serpent and a snake?" asked Lester. "First you
said it was a snake; then you said it was a serpent; now you say it was
Satan!"
"You boys are bothering my story all the time. I'm going to stop."
"Go on, Brush," I urged; "don't mind those boys; what do they know?
They're all way back in the Second Reader, and you are in the Fifth,
and I am in the Third."
"All right, I'll go on; I don't care what they say. Well, the Devil
spoke to Eve and said--"
"Your snake has turned into a Devil now," sneered Edwin. "Boys, why
don't you let me go on with my story; Brush doesn't know how to tell a
story."
"Yes, I do too. Boys, you don't know anything; you don't know that
the Devil and Satan and the serpent and the snake are the same thing;
they're all the same. If you would listen when the teacher talks to you
in the school-room, and when the minister speaks to us in the chapel,
you would learn something. All you got to do is to listen, but you
don't. When you are forced to sit still, you go to sleep; and when you
are awake you tickle those that are asleep with straws, or stick pins
in them. How are you going to learn anything when you do like that?
You must listen; that's what I'm doing. I want to know all about these
things so I can be a preacher when I get big. I'm going to wear a long
black coat, and a vest that buttons up to the throat, and I'm going to
wear a white collar, and a pair of boots that squeaks and reaches to my
knees, and--"
"Edwin, go on with your story, I want to hear that," called Warren.
"He's asleep," said I.
"Only last Sunday," resumed Brush, "the minister told us that the Devil
went about like a roaring lion seeking whom he may de--de-- What's the
rest of that word, Frank?"
"Vour."
"Yes, 'vour, devour. The Devil went about like a roaring lion seeking
whom he may devour."
"Bully for you, Brush!" exclaimed Lester. "That's good; you didn't
cough big though, like the preacher does."
"Don't make fun of the old man, boys, he is here to help us; he wants
to do us good."
"Yes," answered Warren; "I guess he wanted to do you good last week,
when he switched your back for you!"
"I think I deserved it."
"No, you didn't. You didn't do anything; you only threw Phil Sheridan
down and made his nose bleed."
"I shouldn't have done it. I saw a good chance and I did it, and the
old man was looking at me. Now, boys, what did the preacher mean when
he said the Devil went around like a roaring lion?"
"I s'pose," said Edwin, "he means the Devil is like some of our big
medicine men who can turn themselves into deer and elk, and any kind of
animal, and the Devil can change himself into a hungry, howling lion
and--"
"And into a Satan," suggested Lester.
"And into a serpent," added Warren.
"Into a snake," I chimed in.
"And put a man's head on!" ejaculated Edwin.
"And talk to women when they go swimming!" said Lester, with a laugh.
"There's no use talking to you boys. I'm going to sleep," and Brush
turned over.
One by one, sleep overcame these boys. Brush made a peculiar noise as
he breathed, and Lester puffed away like a steamboat.
A Whippoorwill sang in one of the cottonwood-trees near the corner of
the house. Fainter and fainter grew the sound, and so the day passed
into yesterday, and the morrow began to dawn.