CHAPTER III

Well, all the lammings Hank laid on never done me any good. It seemed

like I was jest natcherally cut out to have no success in life, and no

amount of whaling could change it, though Hank, he was faithful. Before

I was twelve years old the hull town had seen it, and they wasn't

nothing else expected of me except not to be any good.

That had its handy sides to it, too. They was lots of kids there that

had to go to school, but Hank, he never would of let me done that if I

had ast him, and I never asted. And they was lots of kids considerably

bothered all the time with their parents and relations. They made 'em go

to Sunday School, and wash up reg'lar all over on Saturday nights, and

put on shoes and stockings part of the time, even in the summer, and

some of 'em had to ast to go in swimming, and the hull thing was

a continuous trouble and privation to 'em. But they wasn't nothing

perdicted of me, and I done like it was perdicted. Everybody 'lowed

from the start that Hank would of made trash out'n me, even if I hadn't

showed all the signs of being trash anyhow. And if they was devilment

anywhere about that town they all says, "Danny, he done it." And like as

not I has. So I gets to be what you might call an outcast. All the kids

whose folks ain't trash, their mothers tells 'em not to run with me no

more. Which they done it all the more fur that reason, on the sly, and

it makes me more important with them.

But when I gets a little bigger, all that makes me feel kind o' bad

sometimes. It ain't so handy then. Fur folks gets to saying, when I

would come around:

"Danny, what do YOU want?"

And if I says, "Nothing," they would say:

"Well, then, you get out o' here!"

Which they needn't of been suspicioning nothing like they pertended they

did, fur I never stole nothing more'n worter millions and mush millions

and such truck, and mebby now and then a chicken us kids use to roast in

the woods on Sundays, and jest as like as not it was one of Hank's hens

then, which I figgered I'd earnt it.

Fur Hank, he had streaks when he'd work me considerable hard. He never

give me any money fur it. He loafed a lot too, and when he'd loaf I'd

loaf. But I did pick up right smart of handiness with tools around that

there shop of his'n, and if he'd ever of used me right I might of turned

into a purty fair blacksmith. But it wasn't no use trying to work fur

Hank. When I was about fifteen, times is right bad around the house fur

a spell, and Elmira is working purty hard, and I thinks to myself:

"Well, these folks has kind o' brung you up, and you ain't never done

more'n Hank made you do. Mebby you orter stick to work a little more

when they's a job in the shop, even if Hank don't."

Which I tried it fur about two or three years, doing as much work around

the shop as Hank done and mebby more. But it wasn't no use. One day

when I'm about eighteen, I seen awful plain I'll have to light out from

there. They was a circus come to town that day. I says to Hank:

"Hank, they is a circus this afternoon and agin to-night."

"So I has hearn," says Hank.

"Are you going to it?" says I.

"I mout," says Hank, "and then agin I moutn't. I don't see as it's no

consarns of yourn, nohow." I knowed he was going, though. Hank, he never

missed a circus.

"Well," I says, "they wasn't no harm to ast, was they?"

"Well, you've asted, ain't you?" says Hank.

"Well, then," says I, "I'd like to go to that there circus myself."

"They ain't no use in me saying fur you not to go," says Hank, "fur you

would go anyhow. You always does go off when you is needed."

"But I ain't got no money," I says, "and I was going to ast you could

you spare me half a dollar?"

"Great Jehosephat!" says Hank, "but ain't you getting stuck up! What's

the matter of you crawling in under the tent like you always done? First

thing I know you'll be wanting a pair of these here yaller shoes and a

stove-pipe hat."

"No," says I, "I ain't no dude, Hank, and you know it. But they is

always things about a circus to spend money on besides jest the circus

herself. They is the side show, fur instance, and they is the grand

concert afterward. I calkelated I'd take 'em all in this year--the hull

dern thing, jest fur oncet."

Hank, he looks at me like I'd asted fur a house 'n' lot, or a million

dollars, or something like that. But he don't say nothing. He jest

snorts.

"Hank," I says, "I been doing right smart work around the shop fur two,

three years now. If you wasn't loafing so much you'd a noticed it more.

And I ain't never ast fur a cent of pay fur it, nor--"

"You ain't wuth no pay," says Hank. "You ain't wuth nothing but to eat

vittles and wear out clothes."

"Well," I says, "I figger I earn my vittles and a good 'eal more. And as

fur as clothes goes, I never had none but what Elmira made out'n yourn."

"Who brung you up?" asts Hank.

"You done it," says I, "and by your own say-so you done a dern poor job

at it."

"You go to that there circus," says Hank, a-flaring up, "and I'll

lambaste you up to a inch of your life. So fur as handing out money fur

you to sling it to the dogs, I ain't no bank, and if I was I ain't no

ijut. But you jest let me hear of you even going nigh that circus lot

and all the lammings you has ever got, rolled into one, won't be

a measly little sarcumstance to what you WILL get. They ain't no

leather-faced young upstart with weepin'-willow hair going to throw up

to me how I brung him up. That's gratitood fur you, that is!" says Hank.

"If it hadn't of been fur me giving you a home when I found you first,

where would you of been now?"

"Well," I says, "I might of been a good 'eal better off. If you hadn't

of took me in the Alexanderses would of, and then I wouldn't of been

kep' out of school and growed up a ignoramus like you is."

"I never had no trouble keeping you away from school, I notice," says

Hank, with a snort. "This is the first I ever hearn of you wanting to go

there."

Which was true in one way, and a lie in another. I hadn't never wanted

to go till lately, but he'd of lammed me if I had of wanted to. He

always said he would. And now I was too big and knowed it.

Well, Hank, he never give me no money, so I watches my chancet that

afternoon and slips in under the tent the same as always. And I lays low

under them green benches and wiggled through when I seen a good chancet.

The first person I seen was Hank. Of course he seen me, and he shook

his fist at me in a promising kind of way, and they wasn't no trouble

figgering out what he meant. Fur a while I didn't enjoy that circus to

no extent. Fur I was thinking that if Hank tries to lick me fur it I'll

fight him back this time, which I hadn't never fit him back much yet fur

fear he'd pick up something iron around the shop and jest natcherally

lay me cold with it.

I got home before Hank did. It was nigh sundown, and I was waiting in

the door of the shop fur Elmira to holler vittles is ready, and Hank

come along. He didn't waste no time. He steps inside the shop and he

takes down a strap and he says:

"You come here and take off your shirt."

But I jest moves away. Hank, he runs in on me, and he swings his strap.

I throwed up my arm, and it cut me acrost the knuckles. I run in on him,

and he dropped the strap and fetched me an openhanded smack plumb on the

mouth that jarred my head back and like to of busted it loose. Then I

got right mad, and I run in on him agin, and this time I got to him, and

wrastled with him.

Well, sir, I never was so surprised in all my life before. Fur I hadn't

had holt on him more'n a minute before I seen I'm stronger than Hank

is. I throwed him, and he hit the ground with considerable of a jar, and

then I put my knee in the pit of his stomach and churned it a couple.

And I thinks to myself what a fool I must of been fur better'n a year,

because I might of done this any time. I got him by the ears and I

slammed his head into the gravel a few times, him a-reaching fur my

throat, and a-pounding me with his fists, but me a-taking the licks and

keeping holt. And I had a mighty contented time fur a few minutes there

on top of Hank, chuckling to myself, and batting him one every now and

then fur luck, and trying to make him holler it's enough. But Hank is

stubborn and he won't holler. And purty soon I thinks, what am I going

to do? Fur Hank will be so mad when I let him up he'll jest natcherally

kill me, without I kill him. And I was scared, because I don't want

neither one of them things to happen. Whilst I was thinking it over,

and getting scareder and scareder, and banging Hank's head harder and

harder, some one grabs me from behind.

They was two of them, and one gets my collar and one gets the seat of

my pants, and they drug me off'n him. Hank, he gets up, and then he sets

down sudden on a horse block and wipes his face on his sleeve, which

they was considerable blood come onto the sleeve.

I looks around to see who has had holt of me, and it is two men. One

of them looks about seven feet tall, on account of a big plug hat and a

long white linen duster, and has a beautiful red beard. In the road

they is a big stout road wagon, with a canopy top over it, pulled by two

hosses, and on the wagon box they is a strip of canvas. Which I couldn't

read then what was wrote on the canvas, but I learnt later it said, in

big print:

SIWASH INDIAN SAGRAW. NATURE'S UNIVERSAL MEDICINAL SPECIFIC. DISCOVERED

BY DR. HARTLEY L. KIRBY AMONG THE ABORIGINES OF OREGON.

On account of being so busy, neither Hank nor me had hearn the wagon

come along the road and stop. The big man in the plug hat, he says, or

they was words to that effect, jest as serious:

"Why are you mauling the aged gent?"

"Well," says I, "he needed it considerable."

"But," says he, still more solemn, "the good book says to honour thy

father and thy mother."

"Well," I says, "mebby it does and mebby it don't. But HE ain't my

father, nohow. And he ain't been getting no more'n his come-uppings."

"Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord," the big man remarks, very serious.

Hank, he riz up then, and he says:

"Mister, be you a preacher? 'Cause if you be, the sooner you have druv

on, the better fur ye. I got a grudge agin all preachers."

That feller, he jest looks Hank over ca'am and easy and slow before he

answers, and he wrinkles up his face like he never seen anything like

Hank before. Then he fetches a kind o' aggervating smile, and he says:

"Beneath a shady chestnut tree

The village blacksmith stands.

The smith, a pleasant soul is he

With warts upon his hands--"

He stares at Hank hard and solemn and serious while he is saying that

poetry at him. Hank fidgets and turns his eyes away. But the feller

touches him on the breast with his finger, and makes him look at him.

"My honest friend," says the feller, "I am NOT a preacher. Not right

now, anyhow. No! My mission is spreading the glad tidings of good

health. Look at me," and he swells his chest up, and keeps a-holt

of Hank's eyes with his'n. "You behold before you the discoverer,

manufacturer, and proprietor of Siwash Indian Sagraw, nature's own

remedy for Bright's Disease, rheumatism, liver and kidney trouble,

catarrh, consumption, bronchitis, ring-worm, erysipelas, lung fever,

typhoid, croup, dandruff, stomach trouble, dyspepsia--" And they was a

lot more of 'em.

"Well," says Hank, sort o' backing up as the big man come nearer and

nearer to him, jest natcherally bully-ragging him with them eyes, "I got

none of them there complaints."

The doctor he kind o' snarls, and he brings his hand down hard on Hank's

shoulder, and he says:

"There are more things betwixt Dan and Beersheba than was ever dreamt

of in thy sagacity, Romeo!" Or they was words to that effect, fur that

doctor was jest plumb full of Scripter quotations. And he sings out

sudden, giving Hank a shove that nearly pushes him over: "Man alive!" he

yells, "you DON'T KNOW what disease you may have! Many's the strong man

I've seen rejoicing in his strength at the dawn of day cut down like the

grass in the field before sunset," he says.

Hank, he's trying to look the other way, but that doctor won't let his

eyes wiggle away from his'n. He says very sharp:

"Stick out your tongue!"

Hank, he sticks her out.

The doctor, he takes some glasses out'n his pocket and puts 'em on, and

he fetches a long look at her. Then he opens his mouth like he was going

to say something, and shuts it agin like his feelings won't let him. He

puts his arm across Hank's shoulder affectionate and sad, and then he

turns his head away like they was some one dead in the fambly. Finally,

he says:

"I thought so. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes when I first drove up. I

hope," he says, very mournful, "I haven't come too late!"

Hank, he turns pale. I was getting sorry fur Hank myself. I seen now why

I licked him so easy. Any one could of told from that doctor's actions

Hank was as good as a dead man already. But Hank, he makes a big effort,

and he says:

"Shucks! I'm sixty-eight years old, doctor, and I hain't never had a

sick day in my life." But he was awful uneasy too.

The doctor, he says to the feller with him: "Looey, bring me one of the

sample size."

Looey brung it, the doctor never taking his eyes off'n Hank. He handed

it to Hank, and he says:

"A whiskey glass full three times a day, my friend, and there is a good

chance for even you. I give it to you, without money and without price."

"But what have I got?" asts Hank.

"You have spinal meningitis," says the doctor, never batting an eye.

"Will this here cure me?" says Hank.

"It'll cure ANYTHING," says the doctor.

Hank he says, "Shucks," agin, but he took the bottle and pulled the cork

out and smelt it, right thoughtful. And what them fellers had stopped

at our place fur was to have the shoe of the nigh hoss's off hind foot

nailed on, which it was most ready to drop off. Hank, he done it fur a

regulation, dollar-size bottle and they druv on into the village.

Right after supper I goes down town. They was in front of Smith's Palace

Hotel. They was jest starting up when I got there. Well, sir, that

doctor was a sight. He didn't have his duster onto him, but his

stove-pipe hat was, and one of them long Prince Alferd coats nearly to

his knees, and shiny shoes, but his vest was cut out holler fur to show

his biled shirt, and it was the pinkest shirt I ever see, and in the

middle of that they was a diamond as big as Uncle Pat Hickey's wen,

what was one of the town sights. No, sir; they never was a man with more

genuine fashionableness sticking out all over him than Doctor Kirby. He

jest fairly wallered in it.

I hadn't paid no pertic'ler attention to the other feller with him when

they stopped at our place, excepting to notice he was kind of slim

and blackhaired and funny complected. But I seen now I orter of looked

closeter. Fur I'll be dad-binged if he weren't an Injun! There he set,

under that there gasoline lamp the wagon was all lit up with, with

moccasins on, and beads and shells all over him, and the gaudiest turkey

tail of feathers rainbowing down from his head you ever see, and a

blanket around him that was gaudier than the feathers. And he shined and

rattled every time he moved.

That wagon was a hull opry house to itself. It was rolled out in front

of Smith's Palace Hotel without the hosses. The front part was filled

with bottles of medicine. The doctor, he begun business by taking out a

long brass horn and tooting on it. They was about a dozen come, but they

was mostly boys. Then him and the Injun picked up some banjoes and sung

a comic song out loud and clear. And they was another dozen or so

come. And they sung another song, and Pop Wilkins, he closed up the

post-office and come over and the other two veterans of the Grand Army

of the Republicans that always plays checkers in there nights come along

with him. But it wasn't much of a crowd, and the doctor he looked sort

o' worried. I had a good place, right near the hind wheel of the wagon

where he rested his foot occasional, and I seen what he was thinking. So

I says to him:

"Doctor Kirby, I guess the crowd is all gone to the circus agin

to-night." And all them fellers there seen I knowed him.

"I guess so, Rube," he says to me. And they all laughed 'cause he called

me Rube, and I felt kind of took down.

Then he lit in to tell about that Injun medicine. First off he told how

he come to find out about it. It was the father of the Injun what

was with him had showed him, he said. And it was in the days of his

youthfulness, when he was wild, and a cowboy on the plains of Oregon.

Well, one night he says, they was an awful fight on the plains of

Oregon, wherever them is, and he got plugged full of bullet holes. And

his hoss run away with him and he was carried off, and the hoss was

going at a dead run, and the blood was running down onto the ground. And

the wolves smelt the blood and took out after him, yipping and yowling

something frightful to hear, and the hoss he kicked out behind and

killed the head wolf and the others stopped to eat him up, and while

they was eating him the hoss gained a quarter of a mile. But they et him

up and they was gaining agin, fur the smell of human blood was on the

plains of Oregon, he says, and the sight of his mother's face when she

ast him never to be a cowboy come to him in the moonlight, and he knowed

that somehow all would yet be well, and then he must of fainted and he

knowed no more till he woke up in a tent on the plains of Oregon. And

they was an old Injun bending over him and a beautiful Injun maiden was

feeling of his pulse, and they says to him:

"Pale face, take hope, fur we will doctor you with Siwash Injun Sagraw,

which is nature's own cure fur all diseases."

They done it. And he got well. It had been a secret among them there

Injuns fur thousands and thousands of years. Any Injun that give away

the secret was killed and rubbed off the rolls of the tribe and buried

in disgrace upon the plains of Oregon. And the doctor was made a blood

brother of the chief, and learnt the secret of that medicine. Finally

he got the chief to see as it wasn't Christian to hold back that

there medicine from the world no longer, and the chief, his heart was

softened, and he says to go.

"Go, my brother," he says, "and give to the pale faces the medicine

that has been kept secret fur thousands and thousands of years among the

Siwash Injuns on the plains of Oregon."

And he went. It wasn't that he wanted to make no money out of that there

medicine. He could of made all the money he wanted being a doctor in the

reg'lar way. But what he wanted was to spread the glad tidings of good

health all over this fair land of ourn, he says.

Well, sir, he was a talker, that there doctor was, and he knowed more

religious sayings and poetry along with it, than any feller I ever

hearn. He goes on and he tells how awful sick people can manage to get

and never know it, and no one else never suspicion it, and live along

fur years and years that-a-way, and all the time in danger of death. He

says it makes him weep when he sees them poor diluted fools going around

and thinking they is well men, talking and laughing and marrying and

giving in to marriage right on the edge of the grave. He sees dozens of

'em in every town he comes to. But they can't fool him, he says. He can

tell at a glance who's got Bright's Disease in their kidneys and who

ain't. His own father, he says, was deathly sick fur years and years and

never knowed it, and the knowledge come on him sudden like, and he died.

That was before Siwash Injun Sagraw was ever found out about. Doctor

Kirby broke down and cried right there in the wagon when he thought of

how his father might of been saved if he was only alive now that that

medicine was put up into bottle form, six fur a five-dollar bill so long

as he was in town, and after that two dollars fur each bottle at the

drug store.

He unrolled a big chart and the Injun helt it by that there gasoline

lamp, so all could see, turning the pages now and then. It was a map of

a man's inside organs and digestive ornaments and things. They was red

and blue, like each organ's own disease had turned it, and some of 'em

was yaller. And they was a long string of diseases printed in black

hanging down from each organ's picture. I never knowed before they was

so many diseases nor yet so many things to have 'em in.

Well, I was feeling purty good when that show started. But the doc,

he kep' looking right at me every now and then when he talked, and I

couldn't keep my eyes off'n him.

"Does your heart beat fast when you exercise?" he asts the crowd. "Is

your tongue coated after meals? Do your eyes leak when your nose is

stopped up? Do you perspire under your arm pits? Do you ever have a

ringing in your ears? Does your stomach hurt you after meals? Does your

back ever ache? Do you ever have pains in your legs? Do your eyes blur

when you look at the sun? Are your teeth coated? Does your hair come out

when you comb it? Is your breath short when you walk up stairs? Do your

feet swell in warm weather? Are there white spots on your finger nails?

Do you draw your breath part of the time through one nostril and part

of the time through the other? Do you ever have nightmare? Did your

nose bleed easily when you were growing up? Does your skin fester when

scratched? Are your eyes gummy in the mornings? Then," he says, "if you

have any or all of these symptoms, your blood is bad, and your liver is

wasting away."

Well, sir, I seen I was in a bad way, fur at one time or another I had

had most of them there signs and warnings, and hadn't heeded 'em, and I

had some of 'em yet. I begun to feel kind o' sick, and looking at them

organs and diseases didn't help me none, either. The doctor, he lit out

on another string of symptoms, and I had them, too. Seems to me I had

purty nigh everything but fits. Kidney complaint and consumption both

had a holt on me. It was about a even bet which would get me first. I

kind o' got to wondering which. I figgered from what he said that I'd

had consumption the LONGEST while, but my kind of kidney trouble was an

awful SLY kind, and it was lible to jump in without no warning a-tall

and jest natcherally wipe me out QUICK. So I sort o' bet on the

kidney trouble. But I seen I was a goner, and I forgive Hank all his

orneriness, fur a feller don't want to die holding grudges.

Taking it the hull way through, that was about the best medicine show I

ever seen. But they didn't sell much. All the people what had any money

was to the circus agin that night. So they sung some more songs and

closed early and went into the hotel.

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