Part 2 (1/2)

”Nail him, Brad!”

”I don't want that tooth pulled, doc.”

”Yes, you do, and you had just as well make up your mind to get back in that chair.”

”By Gosh, you had better get a mule to kick it out!”

Brad and Shawn got him in the chair again and the doctor tried for another hold on the tooth. The back of the chair gave way with a crash.

”What's that?” said the doctor.

”I think it wuz my backbone come uncoupled,” said the farmer. Brad grabbed him by the left leg and the struggling group went down in a heap, but the doctor came up with a gleam of triumph on his face, and holding aloft the terrible molar. Brad was panting, over by the door.

As the farmer turned to leave, he walked over to doctor Hissong and said, ”Doc, if you air as good at doctorin' other diseases as you air at pullin' teeth, thar hain't much prospect of this community enlargin' her population.”

Doctor Hissong glanced over toward the bookcase where Shawn was standing:

”Shawn, do you still want to be a doctor?”

”Not a tooth doctor,” said Shawn.

CHAPTER III

IN SCHOOL

The varying routine of school was a trying ordeal to Shawn. The spelling cla.s.ses, the reading and the terrible arithmetic were as a nightmare to his mind which yearned for the freedom of the river and the woods. Afar off yonder was the stream, where the white gulls were soaring lazily above the channel. Through the windows he could see the tall sycamores and the white-graveled beach, where he and Coaly had spent so many happy hours. In his fancy he could see the cool crystal water oozing out from the spring which he had dug in the sand, and which he had lined with white boulders. Oh, to be down there, breathing the sweet air as he paddled his john-boat about the stream. He turned from the enrapturing view--turned to the hateful books. The children around him were bending over their studies, happiness reflected from their faces, but gloom sat on the countenance of Shawn. Oh, for Coaly and freedom. All might have gone well had it not been for Coaly. To leave Coaly chained up at home through the long hours; to be separated from this companion, who yelped and begged so hard to be taken along, was becoming more unbearable each day, and there came a day when the pleading eyes brought his release, and together they marched into the school.

The story of ”Mary's Little Lamb” was not a.s.sociated with Coaly in Shawn's mind. Shawn put his books on his desk, and Coaly lay down, as peacefully accepting the new turn of affairs. Mrs. Wingate, the teacher, came over to Shawn's desk and quietly said: ”Shawn, you must put your dog outside.”

”Can't he stay if he keeps quiet?”

”No, we cannot have any dogs in the school-room.”

Shawn gazed out upon the river and then down at Coaly.

”Come on, Coaly,” he said as he started to the door. He pa.s.sed out into the hallway, Coaly following. Just as Coaly started through the doorway, a boy gave him a vicious kick, which set him to howling. Shawn sprang into the room.

”Who kicked my dog?”

A little girl said, ”Henry Freeman did it!”

Good resolutions and books were forgotten. Farewell to every ambition.

Freeman tried to free himself from the enraged boy by climbing over the desks and calling to the teacher. The little girls were screaming and books and slates were scattered all about the room. Mrs. Wingate finally succeeded in getting her hands on Shawn and drew him away as he planted a parting blow on Freeman's nose. Shawn turned and facing the school, tragically exclaimed, ”Where I go, Coaly goes. Where Coaly goes, I go!”

Henry Freeman followed Shawn to the door. Shawn turned for battle again, but Freeman used a more malicious weapon by saying, ”Who's your daddy? Who's your daddy?”

And then Shawn burst into tears.