“Would you be very unhappy, do you think, Bushy, if I were to leave you
here to attend the school for six months?” asked Mr. Sukolt early the
next morning, after Bushy had tried her one day on the dunce-stool.
“Oh, Padre!” cried Bushy, as she stopped washing dishes, and, with her
hands still wet, stepped out of the tent to talk with her father, who
was on his horse ready to ride off for the day. “I will stay if you
really want me to, but--” her lip trembled and two big tears trickled
down her brown cheeks--“I think I would die, away from you.” She leaned
against the horse and tried to stifle the sobs that would come up to
choke her.
Mr. Sukolt was serious, and his face looked troubled and sad. “It is
very hard to tell what to do,” he murmured, half to himself. “I must
not allow you to grow up in ignorance; and still, little girl, I feel
something like you--that is, I would die, away from my daughter; away
from my tomboy, my little wild girl.”
He reached over and patted her head. “Come, tell me what you think we
ought to do.”
Bushy’s face brightened. She had thought and thought about it during
the night. Not for a minute did she intend to disobey or be naughty;
still she had formed a plan, and now was her time to make it known.
“Padre, you know a lot--Tom told me so--and why can’t I get some books
and take them along with us into the mines? You can teach me, can’t
you? I will study harder than I would if in school. I’ll promise to get
every lesson you give me. Shanks can hear me if you are not home. Don’t
you think I would study, Padre?” she questioned, not understanding the
expression of her father’s face.
“If you promise, I think you would,” he said. “I am sure you wouldn’t
mean to break your word; but there is the association with children.
I think you ought to have some of them about you, instead of always
serious old men, like Tom and Shanks and----”
“And the best man in the world!” cried Bushy, leaping behind her father
on the horse.
“I don’t know what to make of children. They are always in trouble,
and some way I feel it my fault. Their legs and arms are so little I’m
frightened all the time. I’m sure they are going to get hurt. I’ll go
down to the school and buy some books, like Mike’s, and ask the ‘little
teacher’ how to do, and, then when you come home, I’ll be all ready to
start in with you and Shanks as my teachers. Oh, I am so happy! Do you
know, Padre, I love you more than school or anything in the----”
“There, go back to your dish-washing. Who ever heard of a little girl
making love to her father like that? Skip out, you fly-a-way! and see
that you have everything all ready to pack. Much depends on my business
trip to-day. We may start away by four in the morning to catch the
wagon-train that is in camp ten miles north of here.” Bushy waved the
dish-cloth at him. He cracked his whip and was soon out of sight.
“Rover, come here!” called Bushy, “and listen to what I say. We are
going down to the school very early to buy some books and then we will
take a run. I will ride Jip and you can keep up if your legs don’t
give out.” Rover wagged his tail and barked disdainfully at the mere
suggestion that he would give out in any one day’s run, even if he was
growing old and stiff.
The dishes were washed and Bushy put on her great, wide hat, one that
used to be Tom’s. “Now for a race,” she said. Rover understood, and
away they scampered, raising a great dust in the wide path that led
down the gulch into Central City.
“Good-morning, Mr. Teacher,” said Bushy as she bounded into the
school-room at eight o’clock and landed in front of the funny desk,
behind which the little man sat writing.
“I thought you were not coming to school any more,” he said.
“Oh, my father sent me here to ask if you will please tell me what
books to get, for I am going to study with Shanks and the Padre so I
won’t have to be left all alone in the big city. I will go with them
and learn, too.”
The teacher told her to take a seat and wait until recess and he would
go to the store with her and help her get a good slate, some soft
pencils, and the books she needed.
Bushy was delighted, and she sat down to await the children. Children
were a great curiosity to her. One must not forget that it was a new
thing for her to see little girls and boys. She had never played with
children, and had always talked as grown people do, because she had
never heard anything else.
“I’m awfully fwaid,” lisped a wee child of five, as she hurried into
the school-room and sat down close beside Bushy. “Big Snooks and Bully
Boy are coming here to hurt the teacher. Bully Boy is my big bruvver,
and Snooks is such a bad boy! The teacher won’t let them tum to school,
and dey is goin’ to sew him up in a sheet. I’s so fwaid!” Margarette,
for that was the little one’s name, hid her face in Bushy’s lap and
began to cry.
“What is the matter with her, Bushy?” asked the teacher, leaning way
round his high desk to look at the child he heard crying.
“Oh, don’t tell him! Bully Boy will whip me if you do.” She clutched
Bushy nervously with both hands, and shook with fright. The teacher was
busy and did not notice that he got no answer, but bent closer to his
desk, and the pen went scratch, scratch, scratch over the paper before
him.
Bushy was trying to think what to do, when Margarette drew closer to
her and whispered, “Dey is comin’, see?” She pointed with her trembling
finger out of the window, and immediately two boys with evil faces
looked in.
“I wanted to tell,” whimpered little Margarette, “but I’s so fwaid of
Bully Boy; he licks me so hard every time.” Her lips trembled, and she
silently petted a black and blue spot that disfigured her fat baby arm.
“Sew teacher up in a sheet?” thought Bushy. “I wonder what that means?
Maybe it is a game of some kind.”
The little teacher behind his high desk was quite out of sight, and
the two boys slipped softly up the aisle. There was no one in the
school-room but Bushy and Margarette. What big boy would think of
being on his guard against two girls--one a mere baby and the other a
new scholar!
Bushy’s heart gave a leap and she drew her breath hard and quick.
Neither of the boys had seen her before. Big Snooks was raw-boned,
tall, and slouchy-looking; his mouth turned down at the corners, and
his eyes were small and kept ever on the move like a monkey’s. Bully
Boy was half intoxicated. He had drunk enough whiskey to make him ugly
tempered, and his face, which at other times was good-natured and
gentle, was screwed up into queer grimaces and wrinkles that made him
look extremely wicked. He carried a sheet and Snooks had a lot of short
rope and string.
Softly and silently they advanced, being careful to keep their heads
bowed, so the teacher could not see them. They had taken their shoes
off outside, and, catlike, moved on to catch their prey.
Bully turned and shook his fist at Margarette and Bushy, as much as to
say he would smash their noses if they made a noise.
It was fully half an hour before school-time, and the boys had planned
to have the teacher tied up and stood in the corner for inspection
when the children marched in. The bowling-alley did not open until ten
o’clock, so there would be no men to hear if the teacher cried out.
Before Bushy could collect her thoughts, Bully Boy had caught the
teacher from one side and Snooks from the other. They tried to pin
him down and throw him full length on the platform, but he struggled
fiercely. They all staggered off the platform into the middle of the
floor, quite close to where Bushy and Margarette sat.
“Ah, I understand,” said Bushy at last, and quickly she carried
Margarette to the door and pushed her out, saying, “Run home as fast
as your legs will carry you; you’ll get hurt here!” She looked up and
down the street, but not a soul was in sight. The boys knew well when
to make the attack. Every miner had long ago gone to work, and the
grocery store was a long way off, and nobody happened to be out when
Bushy looked for help. A great thud shook the frame-house and Bushy
knew some one of the three had fallen to the floor. She hastened back,
and, sure enough, it was the teacher, and his head had struck on the
corner of the platform, stunning him. He lay perfectly still and the
boys hastened to tie his hands and wrap the sheet about him.
Now, Bushy knew how to wrestle, and her quick eye had detected that
the boys were stupid blunderers, only succeeding in overpowering the
teacher because he was taken unawares.
“I’ll tackle the two of ’em,” she soliloquized. Many and many a time
she had wrestled with Shanks and Tom and her father. She had grown to
be very skilful in the exercise, and even in boxing and fencing her
lessons had been quite thorough. Her father had always blended the
useful with everything that was taught her. One day he had said: “If
ever the need of throwing your opponent comes into your real life, be
sure and use all the knowledge you have on the subject of wrestling,
and win.” All this now came to Bushy, and she eyed the two boys for a
second, and in the next, both of the strapping fellows lay sprawling
on the floor. While they were scrambling to their feet and looking
about to see what had happened, Bushy stooped for the rope, and another
movement sent them again full length on the floor. She took the nearest
boy and attempted to tie his two hands. He resented, and she sat upon
him, giving him at the same time a blow with the flat of her hand that
dazed him. Bushy knew how to tie a good knot, and before he could
collect his senses he was secured to the leg of one of the desks.
Snooks was on his feet by this time, and realized that only a girl was
making the great commotion.
He roared at her like a lion, and struck out with his big fist, missing
her, of course, for she ducked under, and at the same time brought the
great overgrown body down again very hard on the floor.
The teacher now tried to free himself and called aloud for help, not
knowing what was going on, because the sheet was over his face.
“You are all right, Mr. Teacher,” screamed Bushy. Then, turning her
attention to the big boy, said: “You had better give in or I will
finish you.” Snooks was kicking and yelling now with fright. He lost
all courage when Bully could no longer help him, and, though he knew
if he got loose he could whip a dozen little girls, he was anxious to
get out and hide. So he doubled himself up, and using all his strength,
freed his arms and legs and made a dive for the doorway. Bushy was
prepared for that, and had given him warning once that he had better
“give in.” She cut him off just as he got on the step, and while he was
trying to strike her she used her right foot in throwing him on his
back. He received a hard slap in the face, too, and the next thing he
remembered was the cord cutting into the flesh of his wrists. He was
tied to another desk, and, as the desks were nailed fast to the floor,
the boys could not possibly get away. Bushy left them and went to
unwrap the teacher, who was calling wildly for help.
Little Margarette in her fright had run up the street, screaming at the
top of her voice. From her broken sentences the owner of the grocery
store gathered enough to understand that there was trouble in the
school-house. Some children seeing him run, chased after him, and as a
result, by the time Bushy had the teacher sitting up, the school-room
was crowded with people--men, women, and children. The scene needed no
explanation. Two men took charge of the bad boys and marched them off
to the cabin used as a kind of jail, where they were kept two weeks as
a punishment. The teacher, as soon as liberated, bathed his head, and
said he was ready to continue school.
He stroked Bushy’s fluffy hair and looked at her in wonderment, as did
everybody else. But Bushy hurried back to the tent, and, saddling Jip,
went off on a wild ride to stop her heart beating so queerly.
“Oh, Padre, do let us go away from the big city; it is a dreadful
place,” she said to her father that night when he returned to camp.
Central City was talking of nothing but Bushy Sukolt, and almost
everybody called at the tent and wanted to see her. She did not quite
understand why they should make such a fuss. What else could she have
done?
“It was not because I was brave, as they say,” she explained to Tom,
later. “I had to do it, because there was nobody else around, and I
feared they were going to kill the little teacher. I just had to do it;
but oh! Tom, old fellow, can’t you hurry the Padre away? I don’t like
the city; let us all go back to Great Pine Mine, where everything is
so still and lovely, and the birds sing and the squirrels whisk about.
Let us go where things are not in such a flutter,” and much to her joy
they did leave the place, starting the next morning at four o’clock.