CHAPTER XXX
“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.