Elbow-Room: A Novel Without a Plot Read online

  CHAPTER XIV.

  _RESPECTING CERTAIN SAVAGES_.

  When young Mr. Spooner, Judge Twiddler's nephew, left college, he madeup his mind to enter the ministry and become a missionary. One day hemet Captain Hubbs; and when he mentioned that he thought of going outas a missionary, Captain Hubbs asked him, "Where are you going?"

  _S_. "To the Navigator Islands. I sail in October."

  _Capt_. (shaking his head mournfully). "Pore young man! Pore youngman! It is too bad--too bad indeed! Going to the Navigator Islands!Not married yet, I reckon? No? Ah! so much the better. No wife andchildren to make widows and orphans of. But it's sad, anyway. Apromising young fellow like you! My heart bleeds for you."

  _S_. "What d'you mean?"

  _Capt_. "Oh, nothing. I don't want to frighten you. I know you'redoing it from a sense of duty. But I've been there to the NavigatorIslands, and I'm acquainted with the people's little ways, andI--well, I--I--the fact is, you see, that--well, sooner'n disguise thetruth, I don't mind telling you straight out that the last day I wasthere the folks et one of my legs--sawed it off an' et it. Now you cansee how things are yourself. Those Navigators gobbled that leg rightup. It was a leg a good deal like yours, only heavier, I reckon."

  _S_. "You astonish me!"

  _Capt._ "Oh, that's nothing. They did that just for a little bit offun. The chief told me the day before that they never et anything buthuman beings. He said his family consumed about three a day all theyear round, counting holidays and Sundays. He was a light eaterhimself, he said, on account of gitting dyspepsia from a toughAustralian that he et in 1847, but the girls and the old woman, so hesaid, were very hearty eaters, and it kept him busy prowling aroundafter human beings to satisfy 'em. The old woman, he said, ratherpreferred to eat babies, on account of her teeth being poor, but thegirls could eat the grizzliest sailor that ever went aboard ship."

  _S_. "This is frightful."

  _Capt_. "And the chief said sometimes the supply was scarce, butlately they had begun to depend more on imported goods than on thehome products. And they were better, anyhow, for all the folkspreferred white meat. He said the missionary societies were shippingthem some nice lots of provender, and the tears came in his eyes whenhe said how good they were to the poor friendless savage away on adistant island. He said he liked a missionary not too old or tooyoung. But let's see; what's your age, did you say?"

  MR. SPOONER IS ALARMED]

  _S_. "I am twenty-eight."

  _Capt._ "I think he mentioned twenty-seven; but howsomedever, he liked'em old enough to be solid and young enough to be tender. And he saidhe liked missionaries because they never used rum or tobacco andalways kept their flavor. I know I seen one young fellow who came outthere from Boston. He got up a camp-meeting in the woods; and whilehe was giving out the hymn, one of the congregation banged him on thehead with a club, and in less than no time he was sizzling over a fireright in front of the pulpit. They lit the fire with his hymn-book andkept her going with his sermons. He was a man just about your build--alittle leaner'n you, maybe. And they like a man to be stoutish. Heeats more tender."

  _S_. "I had no idea that such awful practices existed."

  _Capt_. "I haven't told you half, for I don't want to discourage you.I know you mean well, and maybe they'll let you alone. But I remember,when I told the chief that there was a whole lot of you chaps studyingto be missionaries, he laughed and rubbed his hands, and ordered theold woman to plant more horseradish and onions the following year. Hewas a forehanded kind of a man for a mere pagan. He said that if theywould only give his tribe time, if they would send him along thesupplies regular, so's not to glut the market, they could put away theentire clergy of the United States and half the deacons without aneffort. He was nibbling at a missionary-bone when he spoke, and theold woman was making a new club out of another one. They are aneconomical people. They utilize everything."

  _S_. "This is the most painful intelligence that I ever received. If Ifelt certain about it, I would remain at home."

  _Capt_. "Don't let me induce you to throw the thing up. I wouldn't atold you, anyway, only you kind of drew the information out of me. Andas long as I've gone this far, I might as well tell you that I got aletter the other day from a man who'd just come from there, and hesaid the crops were short, eatable people were scarce, and not one ofthem savages had had a square meal for months. When he left, theywere sitting on the rocks, hungry as thunder, waiting for amissionary-society ship to arrive. And now I must be going.Good-bye. I know I'll never see you again. Take a last look at me.Good-morning."

  Then the captain hobbled off.

  Mr. Spooner has concluded to stay at home and teach school.

  * * * * *

  Another rather more enthusiastic friend of the savage is Mr. Dodge. Hecame into the office the _Patriot_ one day and sought a desk where areporter was writing. Seating himself and tilting the chair untilit was nicely balanced upon two legs, he smiled a serene andphilanthropic smile, and said,

  "You see, I'm the friend of the poor Indian; he regards me as hisGreat White Brother, and I reciprocate his confidence and affectionby doing what I can to alleviate his sufferings in his presentunfortunate situation. Young man, you do not know the anguish thatfills the soul of the red man as civilization makes successive inroadsupon his rights. It is too sacred for exhibition. He represses hisemotion sternly, and we philanthropists only detect it by observingthat he betrays an increased longing for firewater and an aggravatedindisposition to wash himself. Now, what do you suppose is the _last_sorrow that has come to blast the happiness of this persecuted being?What do you think it is?"

  "I don't know, and I don't care."

  "I will tell you. It is the increasing tendency of the white man tobaldness. As civilization pushes upward, the hair of the pale facerecedes. Eventually, I suppose, about every other white man will bebald. I notice that even you are gradually being reduced to a merefringe around the base of your skull. Now, imagine how an Indian feelswhen he considers this tendency. Is it any wonder that the futureseems dark and gloomy and hairless to him? The scalping operationto him is a sacred rite. It is interwoven with his most cherishedtraditions. When he surrenders it, he dies with a broken heart. Whatthen, is to be done?"

  "Oh, do hush up and quit."

  "There is but one thing to be done to meet this grave emergency. Wecannot justly permit that grand aboriginal man who once held sway overthis mighty continent to be filled with desolation and misery bythe inaccessibility of the scalps of his fellow-creatures. My idea,therefore, is to bring those scalps within his reach, even when theyare baldest and shiniest. But how?"

  "That'll do now. Don't want to hear any more."

  "Here my ingenuity comes into play. I have invented a simple littlemachine which I call 'The Patent Adjustable Atmospheric Scalp-lifter.'Here it is. The device consists of a disk of thin leather about sixinches in diameter. In the centre is a hole through which runs astring. When the Indian desires to deal with a man with a bald head,he proceeds as follows--observe the simplicity of the operation: Hewets the leather, stamps it carefully down upon the surface of thescalp, slides his knife around over the ears, gives the string a jerk,and off comes the scalp as nicely as if it had been Absalom's. Infact, you will see at once that it is an ingenious application of the'sucker' used by boys to raise bricks and stones. I know what you aregoing to say--that a white man who is to be manipulated by an Indianneeds succor worse than the red man. It is an old joke, and a goodone; but my desire is to bring joy to the wigwam of the Kickapoo andto make the heart of the Arapahoe glad."

  "Oh, do dry up and go down stairs."

  "You catch the idea, of course; but perhaps you'd like to see theapparatus in operation. Wait a moment; I'll show you how splendidly itworks."

  Then, as the reporter resolutely continued at his task with his nosealmost against the desk, the friend of the disconsolate red mansuddenly produced a moist sucker and clapped it firmly upon the baldplace on
the reporter's head, and then, before the indignant victimcould offer resistance, the Great White Brother, with the string inhis hand, careered around the office a couple of times, drawing thehelpless journalist after him. As he withdrew the machine he smiledand said,

  "Elegant, isn't it? Could pull a horse-car with it. I wish you'd cometo Washington with me and lend me your head, so's I can show theSecretary of the Interior how the thing works. You have the best scalpfor a good hold of any I've tried yet."

  But the reporter was at the speaking-tube calling for a boy to go fora policeman, and he didn't seem to hear the suggestion. And so Mr.Dodge folded up the machine, placed it in his carpet-bag, and wentout smiling as though he had been received with enthusiasm and beenpromised a gratuitous advertisement. He passed the policeman on thestairs, and then sailed serenely out of reach, perhaps to seek foranother and more sympathetic bald man upon whom to illustrate thevalue of his invention.

  * * * * *

  Reference to the Indians reminds me of the very ungenerous treatmentthat Mr. Bartholomew, one of our citizens, received at the hands ofcertain red men with whom he trafficked in the West.

  A year or two ago Mr. Bartholomew was out in Colorado for a fewmonths, and just before he started for the journey home he wrote tohis wife concerning the probable time of his arrival. As a postscriptto the letter he added the following message to his son, a boy abouteight years old:

  "Tell Charley I am going to bring with me a dear little baby-bear thatI bought from an Indian."

  Of course that information pleased Charley, and he directed most ofhis thoughts and his conversation to the subject of the bear duringthe next two weeks, wishing anxiously for his father to come withthe little pet. On the night which been fixed by Bartholomew for hisarrival he did not come, and the family were very much disappointed.Charley particularly was dreadfully sorry, because he couldn't get thebear. On the next evening, while Mrs. Bartholomew and the childrenwere sitting in the front room with the door open into the hall, theyheard somebody running through the front yard. Then the front door wassuddenly burst open, and a man dashed into the hall and up stairs at afrightful speed. Mrs. Bartholomew was just about to go up after him toascertain who it was, when a large dark animal of some kind darted inthrough the door and with an awful growl went bowling up stairs afterthe man. It suddenly flashed upon the mind of Mrs. Bartholomew thatthe man was her husband, and that that was the little baby-bear. Justthen the voice of Bartholomew was heard calling from the top landing:

  "Ellen, for gracious sake get out of the house as quick as you can,and shut all the doors and window-shutters."

  THE LITTLE BABY-BEAR]

  Then Mrs. Bartholomew sent the boys into Partridge's, next door, andshe closed the shutters, locked all the doors and went into theyard to await further developments. When she got outside, she sawBartholomew on the roof kneeling on the trap-door, which he kept downonly by the most tremendous exertions. Then he screamed for somebodyto come up and help him, and Mr. Partridge got a ladder and a hatchetand some nails, and ascended. Then they nailed down the trap-door, andBartholomew and Partridge came down the ladder together. After he hadgreeted his family, Mrs. Bartholomew asked him what was the matter,and he said,

  "Why, you know that little baby-bear I said I'd bring Charley? Well, Ihad him in a box until I got off the train up here at the depot, andthen I thought I'd take him out and lead him around home by the chain.But the first thing he did was to fly at my leg; and when I jumpedback, I ran, and he after me. He would've eaten me up in about aminute. That infernal Indian must have fooled me. He said it was a cubonly two months old and it had no teeth. I believe it's a full-grownbear."

  It then became a very interesting question how they should get thebear out of the house. Bartholomew thought they had better try toshoot him, and he asked a lot of the neighbors to come around to helpwith their shot-guns. When they would hear the bear scratching at oneof the windows, they would pour in a volley at him, but after riddlingevery shutter on the first floor they could still hear the beartearing around in there and growling. So Bartholomew and the othersgot into the cellar, and as the bear crossed the floor they would fireup through it at about the spot where they thought he was. But thebombardment only seemed to exasperate the animal, and after each shotthey could hear him smashing something.

  Then Partridge said maybe a couple of good dogs might whip him; and heborrowed a bulldog and a setter from Scott and pushed them through thefront door. They listened, and for half an hour they could hear a mostterrific contest raging; and Scott said he'd bet a million dollarsthat bull-dog would eat up any two bears in the Rocky Mountains. Theneverything became still, and a few moments later they could hearthe bear eating something and cracking bones with his teeth; andBartholomew said that the Indian out in Colorado told him that thebear was particularly fond of dog-meat, and could relish a dog almostany time.

  At last Bartholomew thought he would try strategy. He procured a hugeiron hook with a sharp point to it, tied it to a rope and put threeor four pounds of fresh beef on the hook. Then he went up the ladder,opened the trap-door in the roof and dropped in the bait. In a fewmoments he got a bite, and all hands manned the rope and pulled,when out came Scott's bull-dog, which had been hiding in the garret.Bartholomew was disgusted; but he put on fresh bait and threw inagain, and in about an hour the bear took hold, and they hauled himout and knocked him on the head.

  Then they entered the house. In the hall the carpet was covered withparticles of dead setter, and in the parlor the carpet and the windowshad been shot to pieces, while the furniture was full of bullet-holes.The bear had smashed the mirror, torn up six or seven chairs,knocked over the lamp and demolished all the crockery in the pantry.Bartholomew gritted his teeth as he surveyed the ruin, and Mrs.Bartholomew said she wished to patience he had stayed in Colorado.However, they fixed things up as well as they could, and then Mrs.Bartholomew sent into Partridge's for Charley and the youngest girl.When Charley came, he rushed up to Bartholomew and said,

  "Oh, pa! where's my little baby-bear?"

  Then Bartholomew gazed at him severely for a moment, looked around tosee if Mrs. Bartholomew had left the room, and then gave Charley themost terrific spanking that he ever received.

  The Bartholomew children have no pets at present but a Poland roosterwhich has moulted his tail.