There was a silence in the Bear Canyon school-house until a little girl in a pink ap.r.o.n sobbed. Sobs were at a discount in Bear Canyon, and yet strangely enough no one laughed. Allan Jarvis, in the back seat, was intent upon his finger-nails. The others were gazing admiringly at their new teacher.
"It"s such a sad story," said the little girl, using her pink ap.r.o.n for a handkerchief, "but I like it all the same."
"Deary me!" cried the new teacher, depositing the two littlest ones on the floor, "it"s half-past four! We must close school at once!"
At that the big Jarvis boy left his seat and came down the aisle, for the first time in his life abstaining from pulling the hair of the girls nearest him.
"Shan"t I get your horse ready for you, ma"am?" he asked.
The new teacher smiled gratefully upon him.
"If you please, Allan," she said. "I"ll be ever so much obliged." And Allan Jarvis departed for the horse sheds--a conquered hero!
Mary, tired but enthusiastic, told them all about it as they rode home together, followed at a respectful distance by a dinner-pail laden throng.
How she had arrived that morning to find Allan Jarvis the center of a mischief-bent circle; how she had begun the day by the most exciting shipwreck story she knew; and how the promise of another story before four o"clock had worked a miracle. They were starved for stories, she said. She thought they needed them more than arithmetic.
"Besides," she added, "probably the Sheridan person knows all about figures. I"m going to put all the arithmetic cla.s.ses the last thing in the afternoon, and if we don"t get around to them, why all right. It"s unfortunate, of course, but it can"t be helped."
One day was quite sufficient to establish the name and the fame of the Bear Canyon school-teacher. Around every supper-table circled tales of her wisdom, her beauty, her strange way of speaking, and her general superiority over any teacher Bear Canyon had ever hired. Her ability to tell stories was lauded to the skies, and her genius at making six hitherto mercilessly long hours seem like three marvelously short ones was freely advertised. History under this new teacher had become something more than a dog-eared text-book; geography more than stained and torn wall-maps; reading more than a torturesome process of making sounds. They proudly told their parents what the Const.i.tution of the United States had looked like when their teacher had last seen it; the size and shape of Plymouth Rock as recorded by her during her last visit there. They re-told her stories one by one to the children at home, too young for school.
Allan Jarvis did his part. He told his father he would go to school without a word, if the new teacher could be persuaded to stay in Bear Canyon.
Because of this Mr. Benjamin Jarvis left his work the third day, put on a clean shirt, and visited the school himself. Mr. Samuel Wilson joined him, as did the third trustee from farther up the canyon. When these three gentlemen entered, the oldest History cla.s.s was engaged in reproducing the trial of Nathan Hale, the leading man in the cast being the big Jarvis boy. It was a novel method of teaching history, the trustees said to themselves, remembering the barren instruction they had received, but it seemed effectual. That night they offered the new teacher a permanent job in Bear Canyon. The teacher in Sheridan was not over-anxious to come, they said, and the position was Mary"s if she cared to accept it.
But Mary was going to college, she explained to the disappointed trustees.
Perhaps, some day, she would come back--some day when she had learned more about teaching. As it was, Friday night must end her labors, grateful as she was, and happy as she felt over the reception Bear Canyon had given her.
It came all too soon--Friday night. The children stood in a disconsolate little group to bid her good-by. They knew Bear Canyon teachers of old.
There would be no more stories, no more circuses at recess, no more flower hunts in the woods, no more plays. School now would become just a weary succession of days--all pointing toward Sat.u.r.day. Figures would take the place of reading, and the Rhine would again be just a crooked, black line, not a river surmounted by frowning castles and golden with legends.
The little girl in the pink ap.r.o.n again used it as a handkerchief as Mary rode down the trail.
"I--I"d go to school all my life--with her!" she said loyally.
The school-teacher halted at the residence of Mr. Benjamin Jarvis, second trustee. He it was who was to sign the check for her services, give to her the very first money she had ever earned. He was waiting for her, the check in his hand.
"I--I think I ought to tell you, Mr. Jarvis," said Mary, "especially since you"re strong on figures in Bear Canyon, that I haven"t taught many this week. I"m afraid I"m very weak on system. That will be one of the things I"ll have to learn in college, I guess. The days have gone so fast I just haven"t seemed to have time to get them in. And--and to tell the truth, Mr. Jarvis, I"m not very strong on figures myself."
"Figures!" said Mr. Benjamin Jarvis as he shook hands with her. "I guess you"ve given that boy o" mine somethin" better"n figures, G.o.d bless you!"
The boy himself came around the house just as Mary was mounting her horse to ride away. He had left school before the others, and had said no good-by. Now he came up to her, a brown paper parcel in his hand.
"It"s a rattlesnake skin I fixed for you," he said shyly. "You said you liked "em once. And the heavy thing in the end"s my jack-knife. I carved your letters on the handle. I thought it might come in handy when you went to college."
CHAPTER XV
MR. BENJAMIN JARVIS ENTERTAINS
Bear Canyon did not forget Mary. A score of heart-broken children was proof against such oblivion. Moreover, hope began to dawn in the hearts beneath pink gingham and outing flannel when the teacher from Sheridan, discouraged perhaps by a total lack of cordiality in her students, resigned after two lugubrious days of service. Then Mr. Samuel Wilson, accompanied by Mr. Benjamin Jarvis and the third trustee rode in a body to the Hunter ranch, and offered Mary a substantial "raise" if she would only stay on until December, and finish the fall term so triumphantly begun.
The memories of the little girl in the pink ap.r.o.n, together with the pleas of Mr. Benjamin Jarvis on behalf of Allan, and the a.s.surance of Mr. Samuel Wilson that his children had cried "five nights runnin"" was almost too much for Mary. In one mad wave of sympathy she determined to give up college and to wire her mother that the Path of Duty for her led unmistakably to the Bear Canyon school. But the more mature judgment of Mr. Hunter and Aunt Nan prevailed, and an hour later three very reluctant trustees rode away, leaving behind them a sad, but much relieved, school-teacher, who lay long awake that night and pondered over the desperate state of affairs in Bear Canyon.
But her worry, like most that enc.u.mbers the world, was needless, for the County Superintendent over at Elk Creek lent a helping hand, and sent Miss Martha b.u.mps to Bear Canyon. Now Miss b.u.mps was not Mary, but she was a.s.suredly Miss Martha b.u.mps, and the three trustees, disappointed as they were not to have Mary, held their heads a trifle higher as they drove to town. For the aforesaid Miss b.u.mps was a character of renown throughout the county, and it was only because of the whooping-cough in the consolidated rural schools of Willow Creek that she was prompted to forsake her larger field and hurry to the aid of Bear Canyon.
For twenty-five years Miss Martha b.u.mps had dedicated her energies to the teaching of Wyoming country schools. Some who knew her well affirmed that she had made money thereby; and this statement will doubtless be given credence by all who are not themselves school-teachers. After relinquishing the dreams in which most women of thirty indulge, and deciding once and for all that she would give the best of her life to teaching, she had spent much thought and ingenuity in scheming how such a vocation could be a distinctly pleasurable one. Ten years of boarding in homesteaders" cabins, of sleeping with the youngest child, and eating salt pork three times a day, of drinking condensed milk on ranches devoted solely to cattle, and of riding miles to her place of business in all kinds of weather--these experiences had been fruitful in the extreme. Now she boarded nowhere. Instead, she lived in her own two-room house, which, clapboarded, shingled, windowed and doored after the manner of all houses, was mounted upon four stout cart-wheels, and driven by an obliging trustee of one district to the next chosen field whenever Miss b.u.mps decided that the time had come to make a change. Arriving at her destination, the house was drawn to the best site near the school, the horses were unhitched, and the trustee, riding and leading, started homeward, leaving Miss b.u.mps to begin her double labors in her new situation.
Now, although this rather unusual mode of living on wheels had attracted much attention and comment, it must be conceded (and will by all country school-teachers) that it was decidedly superior to boarding. In her small but spotless kitchen, Miss b.u.mps cooked the food which no homesteader"s cabin afforded, and at night slept luxuriously in her own comfortable bed which nearly filled her other room. All day she gave herself untiringly to her profession. In the evenings she sat by her small air-tight stove, read, and tatted!
To this last-named accomplishment Miss b.u.mps had dedicated fifteen years of practice until expert proficiency had made eyes unnecessary. She tatted while she read, tatted while she taught, tatted while she watched the potatoes boiling for dinner. Some even a.s.serted that they had seen her tat on horseback with all the diligence attributed to Bertha the beautiful queen of old Helvetia, who spun from a distaff fastened to the saddle of her beta.s.seled palfrey.
But even such a curiosity as Miss b.u.mps may have been in the early days of her portable residence and ever-present tatting grows ordinary when besieged by Time, and Wyoming no longer regarded her as a phenomenon. She was just plain Martha b.u.mps, to whom many a rural community owed much.
Nevertheless, it must be admitted that her singular customs of living were considered most eccentric by strangers who often laughed long and uproariously at the portable house. Three amused Vigilantes found in her the best theme material imaginable, and on the day when Mr. Crusoe reported having pa.s.sed her house and her on the road from Elk Creek, they hastened with their hostess to the mail-box, ostensibly to await the postman, but really to see Miss Martha b.u.mps pa.s.s by.
They did not have long to wait. The Willow Creek trustee had used his best team of horses in the transportation, and Miss b.u.mps" entry into Bear Canyon was a triumphal one. At a brisk trot and in a cloud of dust, the equipage came down the easy grade toward the mail-box and the four interested Vigilantes, who, throwing aside all ostentation, sprang to their feet and stared. They saw a little, blue-ginghamed woman under a huge peanut-straw hat, who sat in her own front doorway beside a substantial trustee and tatted while her interested eyes scanned her chosen country. Spying the four wayside spectators and doubtless mistaking them for members of her future flock, she smiled from behind a pair of gold-bowed spectacles, and waved a welcoming tatting-shuttle.
"She thinks I"m one of the children," said the former Bear Canyon school-mistress. "She doesn"t recognize me as a professional friend. But I"m going to call upon her to-morrow if it"s the last thing I do while I"m in Wyoming. Maybe, since I know the Bear Canyon school, I"ll even dare give her some suggestions. I"m so anxious she should understand Allan."
But Mary"s call was never made, for an hour later Mr. Benjamin Jarvis rode in to announce with an air of mystery a barn-warming in his new building for that very evening.
"It"s short notice," he explained to those who had met his invitation with instantaneous and delighted acceptance, "it"s short notice, but, when you come to think of it, there ain"t much time left. You ladies go back East in less than a week, and the threshers may come any day, so I says to Allan this mornin" that seein" the floor was laid we hadn"t better wait to get the windows in nor any finishin" touches. It will be a farewell party from Bear Canyon to you, Miss Mary, and a welcomin" one to the new teacher. I just rode past the school-house to see how she felt about to-night before invitin" the others. She"s all set up an" settled in the pine grove next the school, ain"t tired a mite, and says there"s nothing like a neighborhood party to get a person acquainted."
Mary repeated her appreciation as the second trustee, having announced the time of a.s.sembling and probable other guests, turned his horse"s head homeward. Nor were the others slow to voice their own. Virginia was radiant. A real Wyoming barn-warming, she told Mr. Jarvis, seemed the final joy in their collection of summer treasures, and she could not be grateful enough for his hospitality toward her guests.
Everybody for miles around would be there, she announced that evening as they hurried from supper to dress. All the people in the Canyon and the Valley, and even the forest rangers from Sagebrush Point and Cinnamon Creek. It would not be much like a Gordon dance or one at St. Helen"s, but she knew they would enjoy it. Yes, she said in response to Priscilla"s questions, it might really be quite like the one in _The Virginian_ where they had swapped the babies.
Vivian, who had been burrowing in her closet for a stray blue satin slipper to match the gown spread upon her bed, was surprised a few moments later to see Virginia"s dismayed face.
"Oh, Vivian, dear," she cried, "I thought you"d understand about dressing.
You really can"t wear that, you know. Why, n.o.body will be dressed up like that! It"s for everybody, you see--d.i.c.k and Mr. Crusoe and William and the men at Keiths". They"ll all come in flannel shirts and chaps, and they"d all feel so queer and awkward if we dressed as we would at school. A clean middy is what you want. I"m going to wear that. You see, it"s so different out here, Vivian."
It certainly was different out there, Vivian said to herself a little petulantly as she hung up the blue dress, and selected a fresh middy and some lighter shoes. Would she be expected to dance with the Bear Canyon forest ranger and his brethren from Cinnamon Creek and Sagebrush Point--with d.i.c.k and William and Mr. Crusoe? They were picturesque, and she would enjoy describing them as characteristic of the West when she returned home, but as for dancing with them, that--she was careful not to admit to the others--was quite another matter.
By seven they were off, Mr. Crusoe being the proud driver of the large rig, and the other men following on horseback. The Keith family with Carver and Jack joined them at the main road, and all together they journeyed up Bear Canyon which was populated beyond its wont with pedestrians and equestrians, all bound for the barn-warming of Mr.
Benjamin Jarvis.
Virginia"s prophecy was fulfilled. _Everybody was there!_ Not a family in the Valley or Canyon had missed this opportunity. Babies, securely bundled against the night air, slumbered on fresh hay in the unused bins, and allowed their tired parents a few moments to greet their neighbors. Love for their old teacher, and interest in their new, divided the hearts of every child but two in the Bear Canyon school, those of the little girl in the pink ap.r.o.n and Allan Jarvis being immovably anch.o.r.ed. The rangers from Bear Canyon and Sagebrush, together with a bran-new man from Cinnamon Creek, were among the guests, and two cow boys from the great Biering ranch westward had, at the invitation of Mr. Benjamin Jarvis, driven their bunch of cattle into his corral, made camp on the nearby hillside, and stayed for the celebration.
The two guests of honor were escorted to seats on the center platform, expressly built for Mr. Samuel Wilson"s phonograph, which by elevation, it was believed, would furnish sufficient volume for dancing. In the few intervals between the quickly succeeding introductions, Bear Canyon"s two school-mistresses began their acquaintanceship, and Mary found herself strangely fascinated by plain Miss Martha b.u.mps. A critical a.n.a.lysis failed to warrant the fascination. Certainly Miss b.u.mps" appearance was not engrossing. To her, clothes were an economical and a social necessity.
She wore her traveling gown of faded blue gingham, which of itself was inconspicuous, had it not been for two pockets of newer material on either side of the front. These proofs of unheeded Scriptural warning, being far different in size, gave the entire garment a sinister, cross-eyed effect, which did not fail to catch the eye of the most casual observer. After a surrept.i.tious examination of the aforesaid pockets, Mary discovered that one was occupied by Miss b.u.mps" ample handkerchief, and the other by her tatting.
Nor was there anything extraordinary in the features of her successor.
Ordinary gray hair was parted most punctiliously upon a most ordinary forehead. Her eyes were the usual blue, and her nose a trifle better shaped than the average. In vain Mary searched for the hiding-place of the fascination which years afterward she was to understand--that fascination which is born of n.o.blest enthusiasm and a pa.s.sion for service, and which can transform all the Valleys of Baca in the wide world.
Priscilla stood with Virginia and Donald, and with eyes full of eagerness watched the gathering of Mr. Benjamin Jarvis" guests. She longed for Miss King and Miss Wallace and Dorothy and the Blackmore Twins--yes, she even longed for her mother, in spite of her apprehension lest her Bostonian mother might not strictly appreciate this Wyoming barn-warming and the cosmopolitan society attendant thereupon. She wanted them all to feel as six weeks ago she had felt that indescribable _first_ thrill at the sight of chaps and lariats and fully-equipped cowboys. She wanted them all to realize that here in Mr. Benjamin Jarvis" new barn was a true democracy of comradeship--a comradeship freed from the obnoxious fetters of ball-room etiquette.