Bunch Grass | Page 3

whispered to
me.
"Have you taught school before?" I asked.

"Oh yes, indeed," she answered; "and I know something of your
foothill folks. I've been a book agent. Oh, indeed? You know that. Well,
I did first-rate, but that was the book, which sold itself--a beautiful
book. Maybe you know it--The Milk of Human Kindness? When we're
better acquainted, I'd like to read you," she looked hard at Ajax, "some
o' my favourite passages."
"Thanks," said Ajax stiffly.
Next day was Sunday. At breakfast the schoolmarm asked Ajax if there
was likely to be a prayer-meeting.
"A prayer-meeting, Miss Buchanan?"
"It's the Sabbath, you know."
"Yes--er--so it is. Well, you see," he smiled feebly, "the cathedral isn't
built yet."
"Why, what's the matter with the schoolhouse? I presume you're all
church-members?"
Her grey eyes examined each of us in turn, and each made confession.
One of the teamsters was a Baptist; another a Latter-Day Adventist; the
Spaffords were Presbyterians; we, of course, belonged to the Church of
England.
"We ought to have a prayer-meeting," said the little schoolmarm.
"Yes; we did oughter," assented Mrs. Spafford.
"I kin pray first-rate when I git started," said the Baptist teamster.
The prayer-meeting took place. Afterwards Ajax said to me--
"She's very small, is Whey-face, but somehow she seemed to fill the
adobe."
In the afternoon we had an adventure which gave us further insight into

the character and temperament of the new schoolmarm.
We all walked to Paradise across the home pasture, for Miss Buchanan
was anxious to inspect the site--there was nothing else then--of the
proposed schoolhouse. Her childlike simplicity and assurance in taking
for granted that she would eventually occupy that unbuilt academy
struck us as pathetic.
"I give her one week," said Ajax, "not a day more."
Coming back we called a halt under some willows near the creek. The
shade invited us to sit down.
"Are there snakes--rattlesnakes?" Miss Buchanan asked nervously.
"In the brush-hills--yes; here--no," replied my brother.
By a singular coincidence, the words were hardly out of his mouth
when we heard the familiar warning, the whirring,
never-to-be-forgotten sound of the beast known to the Indians as "death
in the grass."
"Mercy!" exclaimed the schoolmarm, staring wildly about her. It is not
easy to localise the exact position of a coiled rattlesnake by the sound
of his rattle.
"Don't move!" said Ajax. "Ah, I see him! There he is! I must find a
stick."
The snake was coiled some half-dozen yards from us. Upon the top coil
was poised his hideous head; above it vibrated the bony, fleshless
vertebræ of the tail. The little schoolmarm stared at the beast,
fascinated by fear and horror. Ajax cut a switch from a willow; then he
advanced.
"Oh!" entreated Miss Buchanan, "please don't go so near."
"There's no danger," said Ajax. "I've never been able to understand why
rattlers inspire such terror. They can't strike except at objects within

half their length, and one little tap, as you will see, breaks their
backbone. Now watch! I'm going to provoke this chap to strike; and
then I shall kill him."
He held the end of the stick about eighteen inches from the glaring,
lidless eyes. With incredible speed the poised head shot forth. Ajax
laughed. The snake was recoiling, as he struck it on the neck. Instantly
it writhed impotently. My brother set the heel of his heavy boot upon
the skull, crushing it into the ground.
"Now let's sit down," said he.
"Hark!" said the little schoolmarm.
Another snake was rattling within a yard or two of the first.
"It's the mate," said I. "At this time of year they run in pairs. We ought
to have thought of that."
"I'll have him in a jiffy," said my brother.
As he spoke I happened to be watching the schoolmarm. Her face was
painfully white, but her eyes were shining, and her lips set above a
small, resolute chin.
"Let me kill him," she said, in a low voice.
"You, Miss Buchanan?"
"Yes."
"It's easy enough, but one mustn't--er--miss."
"I shan't miss."
She took the willow stick from my brother's hand. Every movement of
his she reproduced exactly, even to the setting of her heel upon the
serpent's head. Then she smiled at us apologetically.

"I hated to do it. I was scared to death, but I wanted to conquer that
cowardly Belle. It's just as you say, they're killed mighty easy. If we
could kill the Old Serpent as easy----" she sighed, not finishing the
sentence.
Ajax, who has a trick of saying what others think, blurted out--
"What do you mean by conquering--Belle?"
We sat down.
"My name is Alethea-Belle, a double name. Father wanted to call me
Alethea; but mother fancied Belle. Father, you know, was a
Massachusetts minister; mother came from