To this Tomacham answered: “‘Johnny Smoker’ is my friend. I do not wish to harm him. Let us see him again and counsel with him.”
“No,” answered Unko. “Let us face him and command him to let our children alone. If he strikes my child he must die.”
And to this many of the women cried out in piercing nasal tones: “Ah, that is good—do that!”
But Wahiah, the mother of Atokan, looked at the ground and remained silent.
III
When the pupils next assembled they were as demure as quails, and Seger knew that they had been warned by their parents not to incur their teacher’s displeasure; but Atokan looked aside, his proud head lifted. Beside him sat a fine boy, two years younger, son of Unko, and it was plain that they were both ready to rebel.
The master recognized the gravity of the moment. If he did not punish, according to his word, his pupils would despise him, his discipline was at an end; and to stripe the backs of these high-spirited lads was to invite death—that he knew better than any white man could tell him. To provoke an outbreak would be a colossal crime, and yet he was a stubborn little man—persistent as a bulldog—capable of sacrificing himself in working out a theory. When a friendly half-breed came late that night and warned him that the camp was in debate whether to kill him or not he merely said: “You tell them I am doing the will of the Great Father at Washington and I am not afraid. What they do to me will fly to Washington as the light flies, and the soldiers will come back as swiftly.”
Immediately after school opened next morning several of the parents of the children came quickly in and took seats, as they were accustomed to do, along the back wall behind the pupils. They were graver than usual—but otherwise gave no sign of anger and remained decorously quiet. Among them was Wahiah.
The master went on with firm voice and ready smile with the morning’s work, well aware that the test of his authority would come after intermission, when he rang the bell to recall his little squad to their studies.
As the children ran out to play all the old people followed and took seats in the shade of the building, silent and watchful. The assistant teacher, a brave little woman, was white with excitement as Seger took the bell some ten minutes later and went to the door personally to give the signal for return. He rang as cheerily as if he were calling to a feast, but many of the employees shuddered as if it were their death knell.