“I don’t think I ever told you about the time we had getting our Chaskay into school. All the children have to go now as soon as they are five, and the mothers put off that fifth birthday just as long as they can; but Chaskay was five last summer, and in the fall the policeman came for him to go to the boarding school. Well, it was dreadful! Blue Earth wailed, and Grandmother sang the old Indian songs and shook her fist in the policeman’s face, and the poor little fellow was scared out of his wits and screamed till I was frightened, myself.
“Then I had an idea, and I said ‘Why not take him every day to the day school in Ring Thunder’s camp? He’s too little to leave his mother at night; why, he can’t even dress himself yet.’
“So it was settled, and we two take turns carrying him on horseback, five miles each way, morning and evening. Blue Earth rides her spotted pony, ‘Baby,’ and I my iron-gray pacer, ‘Old Soup,’ the people call him, because he goes from side to side, just like stirring something in a pot.
“It was glorious fun while the fine weather lasted. I don’t mind coyotes a bit, and I got used to the rattlesnakes after a while, remembering Ethan’s; but a five-mile ride in a Dakota blizzard isn’t any fun, especially with a child on the saddle in front of you, and you with your hands full to keep him from freezing. It’s better to just let the horse take his own course, anyway, when you can’t see the road a bit.
“But the worst was this spring, when the ice broke up on the White river. You see, the schoolhouse is on the other side of the river, and it was easy fording it in the fall, when the water is low, and easier still crossing on the ice; but one windy March day the ice broke up while we were on the further side.
“Good ‘Old Soup!’ He just gathered up his four feet into a bunch and jumped from cake to cake, floating and swirling around there in the black water, and once or twice he missed his footing and went in deep enough to wet my toes in the stirrups. I can tell you, girls, I was glad enough when he scrambled out on the other side. And wasn’t the boy brave? He never uttered a sound!
“There have been a great many sick people this spring—mostly with coughs and consumption. I take them beef-tea and milk gruel and rice and things, and it’s best to stay and see them eat it if you want to be sure. Especially if they’re women; they would so much rather give it to the men.
“One morning I was wakened out of a sound sleep by a tap on the window-pane. The sun was shining brightly, but I looked at my dear little watch that always hangs at the head of my bed, and it was only five o’clock. What do you suppose the woman said?—for it was a poor, old woman. ‘My son is dying, and begs for some light biscuit right away!’
“So I got up and built the kitchen fire before even Grandmother was stirring, and the poor sick man had his last wish, I guess, for he really did die. He was a young man who had been away to school.
“There are several returned students here who are thankful to come and look at my magazines and my photographs, and sing hymns, and get me to explain things to them. If I knew a little more, I would try to have an evening class. They always treat me with respect and call me ‘Older Sister.’ Why, the other day one of them even asked my advice about getting married! What do you say to that?