My Red Crosseries

THEY sent me way out here, just northwest of the universe, to form a Red Cross organization. Some ecstasy in the task.

The entire forenoon I spent interviewing the wives of Red Men, and might as well have interviewed totem poles. However, although they spoke not a word, they seemed to grasp my intention, and promised to be prompt at the meeting. Especially encouraging was Sadie Bucking-Cat (or something like that). She was young and pretty, and told me to go to a certain house about a mile distant, and speak to the lady there.

D― has no middle, but it has outskirts, with trimmings. I found the house to which Sadie had sent me, and engaged the lady of it in a conversation which appeared to be as delectable to her as was her occupation to me, namely, the butchering for market of a tremendous steer.

The woman was an amazonian creature, brown-skinned and brown-eyed. She threw that steer about with more ease than could a toreador. She was not an Indian. Though she rarely looked at me, she permitted me to speak, and while thus engaged I got a fair acquaintance with the rest of the household as it passed to and fro between house and barn, laden with butter, eggs, cheese, beef, vegetables, and so forth, all for the market.

She kept shouting orders to this, that, and the other one, — especially the other one, who was a trifle slow, — till I was nearly distracted. There were six children, all as large and brown as their mother. All were good-looking. Two were handsome.

Her husband was half her size, and wore top-boots.

‘Here!’ she suddenly shouted to a six-foot masculine sprout; ‘hold this leg solid while I finish the kidneys!’

He dropped the harness he was carrying, and came forward with alacrity, his face lighting with a smile as he greeted me rather awkwardly.

It took a tremendous lot of muscle to hold that leg while she rooted with knife and fingers; and when the leg suddenly slipped out of the boy’s grasp, throwing him forward and bringing his face smartly against the kidney, he received a stunning box on the ear from the biggest palm I ever saw on a woman’s hand.

‘Oh, maw!’ was all he said, giving her a reproachful look and rubbing his crimson ear. Then he took hold with both hands, bracing his entire strength against the leg, she telling him to attend to his business, which he certainly was doing with all his might.

Her husband, though he was as busy as she, giving orders, going around in circles with the importance of a bantam cock, had been polite enough to place an inverted butter-tub for me to sit on; and as it was the banquettable of an energetic pig, it gave me some exercise to maintain my balance against her insistence.

Still I talked Red Cross as fast as I could, even resorting to a little bloodcurdling information about the front, till the boy transferred his interest to me, and seeing another box on the ear imminent, I rose to go. Then she unexpectedly faced me and said, —

‘That sounds pretty good, what you have been telling me about the work. When we return from the market tomorrow, we’ll just start one of them organizations.’

I thought she had not been listening.

Mr. Amazon kicked the tub out of my path with an old-time bow. This little man, not to be entirely eclipsed by his spouse, had formed the habit of giving an authoritative kick to everything that came in reach of his high boot-heel; especially if its back was turned toward him. The kick brought no more resentment than did the box on the ear.

It was quite late when I had supper and returned to my room. Awaiting me there was the following note from Sadie: —

‘Dear Lady. Tonite at ate I will bring you 3 good Read Cross pew-pills.’

Just three! And she the most popular girl in D―.

I was glad to reach the meetingplace in advance of anyone else. When all was ready, I sat down and waited two hours without seeing a single soul. They had not intended to come, as I know now. Somewhat annoyed, I was going away, when Sadie, all out of breath, appeared, bringing her ‘pewpills.’

Number one was an ex-chief, with deep furrows of soil on his brow and cheek. Number two was an ex-campcook, with semi-circular legs and a shirt front liberally decorated with tobacco designs. His protruding mouth had homesteaded on his nose-site, causing that indignant organ to turn upward and take refuge between two very sharp eyes. His sneeze was the diversion of the community. They called him Pug.

Number three was a handsome, shy, brown lad, whom I had seen before. The swelling on his ear had gone down. He blushed every time he thought I was going to address him, so I concentrated on Pug, who was equal to even more. Pug did not like the boy — that was plain. Sadie did like the boy — that, too, was plain. Pug liked Sadie — that was the plainest of all.

Just three, but I talked as if there had been thirty-three. The chief gave no evidence that he was listening. Billy was listening more to the floor than to me. But Pug was a dear. He was as attentive as Sadie had been; and when I paused, asked if he could bring a bunch of his friends next day to hear me say it all over again.

Of course I consented. A meeting in installments might be just as effective as one big one.

‘And I’ll tell you how we kin start a fund right away,’ he volunteered, with a side glance at Billy. ‘We’ll have a sheep-shearin’ contest to-morrow, him and me,’ nodding toward Billy, ‘and all the money can go to the Red Cross.’

‘Where does the money come from, at a sheep-shearing contest?’ I asked.

His eyes opened wide. ‘Why, our friends bet on us, of course.’

‘But the Red Cross does n’t approve of bets, raffles, chances of any kind.’

He looked thoroughly disgusted.

‘I meant, our friends will buy tickets to come and see us shear, like any other show. Will that be all right?’

‘Yes. Is that agreeable to you, Billy?’

He blushed more than ever with a glance at Sadie, whose eyes fairly snapped consent. Billy looked down again, circling his hat, and Sadie took the word.

‘You bet!’ she exclaimed. ‘To-morrow at two o’clock, at the regular shearing-sheds!’

So it was settled.

The two men were expert shearers, I learned. Pug was jealous of Billy. No one knew whether Billy was jealous or not. He certainly had not as much reason, if it was a question of Sadie’s favor.

The trio departed. Pug was sure of winning, or he never would have given me that knowing wink as he strode away with a bantam swagger that suited his style.

Naturally I did not depend entirely on Sadie and Pug for my organization. My eyes had been opened to the value of certain people’s promises, and I adopted more effective measures.

The nut-brown Amazon was made chairman of the auxiliary. She selected her own vice and secretary. The men who showed especial interest were put on the executive board without being consulted. Of course, they were willing. Indeed, Pug felt quite important over his election. When I said to him, ‘My word, Mr. Pug, you have more expeople here than at any other place I ever visited,’ he straightened up, pointed his cigar skyward, and answered, —

‘Sure. Most of these fellows are only ex-cuses for what they should be. But we’ll show you we ain’t all exes.’

The old schoolhouse was secured for a workroom. Pug got it scrubbed, and fitted with the necessary chairs and tables, a stove, and two sewing-machines, which were lent by ranchers for the summer period.

After two days of great activity, the women — white, half-breed, and Indian — had been taught to make straight, flat seams on pajamas, to attach collar-facings without wrinkling, to sew on tapes where they were intended to be, and the rudiments of knitting. Each individual took her work home to finish, and was to have it ready in ten days, when I should return to inspect. So I had my ripping knives sharpened, and bought my ticket for the shearing contest.

Here I made my first acquaintance with sheep, and I have more respect for men since. On the way to the sheds, I passed a corral where a sheep was going around in circles, one of the Amazon’s sons just having completed an operation for water in the head. The youth, as usual, received the paternal kick as I was passing. He rubbed the spot, and limped away, smiling wryly as he caught my eye.

‘Did it hurt?’ I asked.

‘Oh, I can’t complain,’ he drawled. ‘It is the handshake of our tribe, you know. The operation pleased dad.’

I’d hate to belong to that tribe.

The contest was stirring. Several horse-races had been added, and there was a good crowd present. An Indian will leave his deathbed long enough to see a horse-race, but he never is demonstrative. The white people made the noise.

In the centre of an intensely interested crowd, Pug and Billy were working neck and neck for the honors. The platforms were rather narrow, and when struggling with a particularly obstreperous mutton, it was sometimes almost impossible to keep from being pushed off; this would mean disgrace forever. The sun was pitiless. The shearers did not seem to mind it as much as did the spectators, although they looked very white in the face.

The game was breathless because the men kept exceedingly close together. Neither spoke, or looked to right or left. To me it was a marvelous performance. They seemed not to be the men of yesterday. Determination was all one could read in their expression and gestures. The wool fell away easily. Some of it was stained with blood. Sometimes a belly-vein was severed, and a knot was tied somewhere to stop the flow of blood; but this was accomplished so skillfully that no time was lost.

Not far away, leaning on the fence, was Sadie. A girl friend accompanied her. The girl was arrayed in rainbow hues, while Sadie, the effervescent, wore deep mourning. She was as tensely different as were the two shearers.

I asked my nearest neighbor why Sadie was in black.

’Her grandmother died a few weeks ago,’he answered, ‘and she wears mourning on holidays. You should see her with her crêpe veil on! She looks just like the Virgin Mary! Maybe she’ll wear it later in the afternoon.'

There was present to-day one speaker — an ex-cowboy, they said; but he looked too old. Cowboys never grow old.

Shouts and cheers were issuing from the shearing-sheds. When I returned there, both contestants were taking their last sheep. This was their very last clip. The men looked whiter than before.

Pug got his animal into position first. Cheers from his adherents. Poor Billy happened to get hold of an old whether warrior and lost time. It was a wonder that the remarks and jokes tossed at him did not confuse him. Sadie stood at her post, rigid as a wooden sentinel.

The shears fairly buzzed. Pug, still a trifle ahead, kept his friends noisy. Billy tightened his muscles. The air was thick with the weight of big betting, but the word itself was repressed most of the time, while I received more than one distorted grin, supposed to be friendly.

Finally Billy caught up with Pug, and went a trifle beyond him. Pandemonium is the word. Even Sadie forgot herself so far as to give a squeak of triumph, and Billy, involuntarily glancing at her, let the sheep jerk itself from his grasp, and a hard struggle ensued.

Now things looked bad for Billy. For fully five seconds he teetered on the very brink of the platform, while his supporters screamed inwardly. Pug increased his speed. Billy saved himself from being pushed over, though he had to employ both hands, leaving him none to shear with. He needed three hands.

The situation was becoming racking when Billy had an inspiration. Turning the mutton’s face upward, he caught its nose between his firm white teeth and hung on like a bull-dog. The crowd went wild, and his hands lost their identity in swiftness of motion. Some of Pug’s friends shouted, ‘No fair!’ but were quickly silenced; for Pug, while formulating the rules for this especial contest, had not reckoned with Billy’s jaw.

Billy won the contest.

As I was leaving the grounds with the rest of the people, one of the men on duty during the day came to me and handed me a bag heavy with coin. He bore signs of hard work.

‘What money is this?’ I asked.

He hesitated a moment, then said, ‘The gate-receipts, ma’am.’

‘But you should take it to your treasurer,’ I suggested.

He did n’t know who was treasurer, and as he had quite a number of miles to cover so late in the day, he convinced me that I was the proper person to take the money for the Red Cross. He departed before I could even ask how much the sack contained.

Two minutes later another man, who had been conducting some unknown (to me) pastime, with small stones, came to me with a sack of coin. ‘Where’s this from?’ I asked him.

‘The gate-receipts,’ he promptly answered.

‘But I already have the gate-receipts,’ said I, holding them aloft.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but there were two gates.’

He departed.

As I was passing through the gate of many receipts, I saw Pug in the crowd. He looked defiant, and was hugging a tin box. At sight of me he held it up, and it was very heavy.

‘The gate-receipts!’ he shouted to me. ‘They console me.’

A few more gate-receipts trickled in from various directions, and these, with the sales of ice-cream, lemonade, and ‘sacrificed’ articles, as well as auctioned animals, poultry, and so forth, netted the local organization four thousand dollars.

Ten days I spent in the Big Town, to which the inhabitants of D— alluded frequently, not always with enthusiasm, but always with an air of superiority. Then I returned to D―.

The work had all been gathered at the schoolhouse, and several officers were present, waiting for me.

The nut-brown Amazon stood close to my elbow, watching my face as I inspected. Prayerfully I searched for something I could praise without too great a wrench of conscience. She was so terribly big.

Finally I drew a full breath and spoke as fast as I could: —

‘The workmanship is not good. You can see for yourselves that the seams meander where they list. These, for instance, are turned the wrong way, and have fringe, because there was no basting. The machine that made this garment had the tension too tight, making ruffles of the seams, and a wounded soldier cannot rest on ruffles. These pockets are on the wrong side. The buttonholes should be of uniform size, and worked more closely. Tapes must be spaced more evenly. You must insist on basting these yokes.’

Here I paused for breath, afraid to look up at the silent giant beside me.

The other women stood awed and silent, too. Presently I caught that swift motion of her hand, which I knew well, and I drew back. But she did not withdraw her hand: it was palm upward.

‘Put it there,’ she commanded; and I shook hands with her, or, rather, I tried to, but she shook the entire me, saying, ‘Them’s the very words I wanted to hear. Don’t I know the work’s rotten? I told ’em so, but they only laughed at me, sayin’ I might know how to plough, to brand a cow, and make butter, but where had I ever learned to make a straight seam? That’s the stuff they hand me when I try to make ’em do right. You just bet it’ll be different now! I’m goin’ to git the rest of the bunch, and you’ve got to stay and say it all over again.’

She jumped into her wobbly wagon and drove off. During her absence, I instructed in the gentle art of ripping and my pupils were not at all enthusiastic.

They all came, those living farthest away riding in Mrs. Amazon’s little wagon. I went through it all again, adding the things I had been afraid to mention before. Mrs. Amazon stood at the door like a watch-dog.

The very first work sent to headquarters by the D― auxiliary was graded A1.

The monthly paper published by headquarters had this to say: —

‘The splendid patriotism of the Northwest was again manifested when a Red Cross representative from our division was sent to D—, to form an organization. The community responded to a man, throwing themselves into the work with such zest that in the short time of two days they raised four thousand dollars. The women immediately established workquarters, and the very first garments received were of excellent workmanship. The amount of money raised is a percapita rate of five dollars for every man, woman, and child within six miles of D―.’