Ponka Boys
"Woo-hoo! Noo'-zhin-ga pa'-hon ba ma kae don'-ba i ga!" (Oh! boys, get
up and look at the snow!) exclaimed a new student, ignorant of the rule
against speaking Indian.
We scrambled out of bed and rushed to the windows. Sure enough, there
was snow on the ground, and the trees that the frost had stripped of
their verdant beauty now stood resplendent in a mantle of white.
Summer had gone. The myriads of little creatures that only a short time
ago enlivened the hills and valleys had withdrawn into the recesses
of the earth, or other places of safety, each according to its own
peculiar habit.
Winter had come. And the school-boy, defying its chilling blasts,
dances about in the crisp snow, or on the ice, shouting to his
playmates. Delighting in the exercise of every muscle, he races to the
hill-top, blows his hot breath on his tingling finger-tips, mounts his
little sled, then dashes down the hill with merry shouts of laughter,
though the snow whirls and flies about his ears and beaming face. Again
and again he takes this wild descent until he hears the calling of
the school-bell; then, with reluctant feet, he enters the class-room,
to study the divisions of the earth either by natural boundaries, or
by the artificial ones made by aggressive man, to learn about weights
and measures, or to memorize the great events that have changed the
conditions of nations and of peoples.
Every one was up and dressed that morning when Gray-beard came to the
dormitory; and, after repeating our prayer, we hurried down the two
flights of stairs, making a noise like thunder. We ran into the yard,
where we wrestled for a while, then rubbed our faces and hands with
snow.
One of the teachers asked why the boys did so. "All boys do that,"
answered Brush. "The old folks tell them to do it, because then their
faces and hands won't get frozen."
When breakfast was over that morning, and the students had shifted
their positions so as to face the centre of the dining-room, and had
folded their arms, the superintendent, marking with his forefinger the
chapter he had selected to read at the morning worship, looked up and
spoke, "We want the boys to learn the use of tools, and to make things
for themselves, so we have provided the boards out of which every boy
in this school can make a sled for himself. The carpenter will give to
any boy who asks, the materials and show him how to use the tools to
make his sled. Of course this must be done before the school hour."
We looked at each other and smiled. The reading of the Scripture and
the prayer seemed to us to be unusually long, but at last they came to
an end. Then every boy hurried and scurried to the carpenter's shop.
Soon dozens of hammers were going crack, crack, and the saws zip, zip.
"Be careful, boys! Look out for nails, or you will ruin your saws,"
said the carpenter, and he smiled good-naturedly as he went on marking
the boards for the next applicant.
Suddenly, in the midst of all the din some one exclaimed, "Hong!"
which is Indian for Ouch! and a big boy danced about, shaking his hand
violently in the air, then he brought it down and pressed it between
his knees, twisting his body into all sorts of shapes, howling the
while. The hammering and sawing ceased, and a dozen voices asked,
"What's the matter?" Peter, who was always clumsy in his movements,
instead of hitting the nail he was driving, had struck his thumb and
smashed it. The traditional "Indian stoicism" was not in him, so he
kept up his howling until the carpenter had put on a tobacco poultice
and bandaged the injured thumb.
After a lively coasting on our new sleds one afternoon, we were
gathered in the school-room, and every one was busy preparing lessons.
The arithmetic class was before the blackboard, answering questions put
by the teacher.
"Ulysses Grant," said Gray-beard, "suppose the boards, nails, and work
upon your sled cost you fifty-five cents, and you sold it to Edwin
Stanton for sixty-three cents, what would be your profit?"
Ulysses moved uneasily, then began counting rapidly with his fingers.
"Stop counting your fingers. Do the sum with your head," said
Gray-beard.
Just at this moment something like a shadow appeared at one of the
windows, and all faces, except Gray-beard's, turned in that direction.
We soon made out that the shadow was the face of an Indian boy with
his buffalo robe drawn over his head and spread against the glass to
exclude the glare of the sun, so as to give him a better view within
the room. His black eyes peered at us, and at every object within
sight. The figure withdrew; then we heard a voice speaking in our own
language, "Come quick! Come and look at them!"
Soon the windows were darkened by dozens of the queerest-looking heads
we had ever seen. Over each face hung two long braids. As the boys
pressed their noses against the glass, and wrinkled their brows in
trying to see, they made the strangest and most comical of pictures.
They pushed and climbed over each other in their eagerness to observe
what was going on inside. We could not help laughing at their
appearance.
Edwin nudged me and whispered, "They're Ponka boys; they wear their
scalp-locks in front, and they always have two."
"Don't they look funny?" shouted a Ponka boy at the middle window.
"See, see that one!" and he pointed at Warren; "he looks just like a
little owl; his hair stands straight up, and he has such big eyes."
Study became impossible, and the class in arithmetic made horrible
blunders. Gray-beard was disgusted; in vain he rapped the desk with
his ruler; and his patience found a limit when Andrew Johnson said
that Ulysses' profit would be eleven cents, if he sold his sled for
sixty-three cents. He gave the boy a vigorous shaking. This act of
discipline delighted the little savages at the window; they shouted
with laughter and the ends of their little braids fluttered with the
breath of every peal. They interspersed their merriment with comments
on our appearance, our clothing, and the absence of scalp-locks on our
heads.
"What are they saying?" asked Gray-beard, looking toward the windows.
"They're calling us names," answered Warren, who felt sore at being
compared to an owl.
Gray-beard went to the door; as he opened it, the intruders ran swiftly
to the fence, and sat astride of the top board.
"Get away from here!" said Gray-beard, in a loud voice. "Go home!"
"How do do! Goo-by!" shouted back some of the little rascals with
boisterous jeers.
"Class in history," called Gray-beard as he closed the door; and a
number of us stood in line at the usual place.
"Philip Sheridan, can you tell me something of George Washington?"
All eyes turned toward the youngster who answered to the name of George
Washington, and who, neglecting his lessons, was now busy drawing on
his slate a caricature of a boy against whom he had a grudge. Hearing
his name, and thinking he had been caught in his mischief, he looked up
with a startled expression, and rose to make a denial, when Sheridan,
fixing his eyes upon him, slowly answered, "He chopped his father's
choke-cherry-tree."
The little savages returned to the windows, and began chattering
noisily. Suddenly a number of them stood in line, imitating the history
class, while one of the big boys took a place before them, mimicking
the actions of Gray-beard and the tones of his voice, by giving the
peculiar rhythm of English to his own Indian words.
"Ah'-bru-zhe-dae!" he asked; "do you ever wash your face?" And the
make-believe class went into fits of laughter.
"Ten sleeps ago," angrily retorted the boy addressed, "you stole some
honey, and the smirches of it are still on _your_ face!"
The boys were convulsed at this reply, and so were the boys in the
school-room; but the mock teacher took a different view of the matter,
and sprang at his impudent pupil, boxing his ears, whereat the two fell
on each other in a lively tussle. We stretched our necks to see the
struggle, and Gray-beard also watched the scene.
All at once a Ponka boy shouted, "I've found something! Come, come!"
and the crowd moved away, leaving the two to finish their wrestling.
Before long we heard a great clatter in the hall-way, and then the
Ponka boys were seen marching out of the yard with our sleds. We heard
them coasting down the hill, and this made us very restless, so that we
could not pay any attention to our lessons. By and by the shouting on
the hill-side ceased, and Warren leaned over to Brush and whispered,
"They're going off with our sleds!"
Brush raised his right hand; Gray-beard saw him, and asked what he
wanted.
"Those Indian boys are going away with our sleds, and we want to go
after them."
Permission being given, in a twinkling there were twenty or thirty
school-boys charging up the hill, all mad as hornets. We overtook the
Ponkas midway between the school and the village. The little savages
turned and came to meet us.
"What do you want?" said the big boy who had played teacher.
"We want our sleds," said Brush.
"Come and get them!" was the defiant answer of the Ponka boys.
"That we will do!" answered Brush.
We all moved forward, and then followed a scene hard to describe. A
terrific battle took place between us and the robbers; it was hand to
hand, and shin to shin, for hands and feet were the only weapons used.
The Ponkas made a determined resistance. I cannot very well relate
what happened around me; for I was engaged in a lively bout with
an impish-looking little chap for whom I had taken a sudden and
unreasonable spite. It was hard to get at him, for he was quick as a
wild-cat in his movements, and he gave me a number of vicious blows
before I could touch him. I noticed that he was more afraid of my
brogans than of my fists; taking advantage of this, I pretended to lift
my foot for a fierce kick; he hopped backwards, and, in so doing, bent
his body toward me. Quick as a flash, I grasped his two braids, pulled
his head down, and brought my right knee up against it with tremendous
force, and he went sprawling in the snow.
"Frank, Frank, come here, quick!" It was Brush calling. I turned, and
there he lay under two of the Ponkas, who were dealing him heavy blows.
In a second I had dragged one of them off, and Brush had his footing
again. Some one shouted, "They're running! they're running!" and the
boys we were fighting broke loose. Then all of us school-boys chased
the Ponkas, and drove them into their camp.
We were a bruised lot when we came back to the school; but we had our
sleds.