Boy Settlers: A Story of Early Times in Kansas

  CHAPTER X.

  DRAWING THE FIRST FURROW.

  The good-natured Younkins was on hand bright and early the nextmorning, to show the new settlers where to cut the first furrow on theland which they had determined to plough. Having decided to take thenorthwest corner of the quarter-section selected, it was easy to findthe stake set at the corner. Then, having drawn an imaginary line fromthe stake to that which was set in the southwest corner, the tallCharlie standing where he could he used as a sign for said landmark,his father and his uncle, assisted by Younkins, and followed by thetwo other boys, set the big breaking-plough as near that line aspossible. The four yoke of oxen stood obediently in line. Mr. Howellfirmly held the plough-handles; Younkins drove the two forward yoke ofcattle, and Mr. Bryant the second two; and the two younger boys stoodready to hurrah as soon as the word was given to start. It was animpressive moment to the youngsters.

  "Gee up!" shouted Younkins, as mildly as if the oxen were pettedchildren. The long train moved; the sharp nose of the plough cut intothe virgin turf, turning over a broad sod, about five inches thick;and then the plough swept onward toward the point where Charlie stoodwaving his red handkerchief in the air. Sandy seized a huge piece ofthe freshly-turned sod, and swinging it over his head with his strongyoung arms, he cried, "Three cheers for the first sod of BleedingKansas! 'Rah! 'Rah! 'Rah!" The farming of the boy settlers had begun.

  Charlie, at his distant post on the other side of the creek, saw thebeginning of things, and sent back an answering cheer to the twoboys who were dancing around the massive and slow-moving team ofcattle. The men smiled at the enthusiasm of the youngsters, but intheir hearts the two new settlers felt that this was, after all, anevent of much significance. The green turf now being turned over wasdisturbed by ploughshare for the first time since the creation ofthe world. Scarcely ever had this soil felt the pressure of the footof a white man. For ages unnumbered it had been the feeding-groundof the buffalo and the deer. The American savage had chased his gameover it, and possibly the sod had been wet with the blood ofcontending tribes. Now all was to be changed. As the black, loamysoil was turned for the first time to the light of day, so for thefirst time the long-neglected plain was being made useful for thesupport of civilized man.

  No wonder the boys cheered and cheered again.

  SANDY SEIZED A HUGE PIECE OF THE FRESHLY-TURNED SOD, ANDWAVING IT OVER HIS HEAD CRIED, "THREE CHEERS FOR THE FIRST SOD OFBLEEDING KANSAS!"]

  "We go to plant her common schools, On distant prairie swells, And give the Sabbaths of the wild The music of her bells."

  This is what was in Mr. Charles Bryant's mind as he wielded theox-goad over the backs of the animals that drew the great plough alongthe first furrow cut on the farm of the emigrants. The day was brightand fair; the sun shone down on the flower-gemmed sod; no sound brokeon the still air but the slow treading of the oxen, the chirrup of thedrivers, the ripping of the sod as it was turned in the furrow, andthe gay shouts of the light-hearted boys.

  In a line of marvellous straightness, Younkins guided the leading yokeof cattle directly toward the creek on the other side of which Charlieyet stood, a tall, but animated landmark. When, after descending thegradual slope on which the land lay, the trees that bordered thestream hid the lad from view, it was decided that the furrow was longenough to mark the westerly boundary line of the forty acres which itwas intended to break up for the first corn-field on the farm. Thenthe oxen were turned, with some difficulty, at right angles with theline just drawn, and were driven easterly until the southern boundaryof the patch was marked out. Turning, now, at right angles, andtracing another line at the north, then again to the west to the pointof original departure, they had accurately defined the outerboundaries of the field on which so much in the future depended; forhere was to be planted the first crop of the newcomers.

  Younkins, having started the settlers in their first farming, returnedacross the river to his own plough, first having sat down with theDixon party to a substantial dinner. For the boys, after the first fewfurrows were satisfactorily turned, had gone back to the cabin andmade ready the noon meal. The ploughmen, when they came to the cabinin answer to Sandy's whoop from the roof, had made a considerablebeginning in the field. They had gone around within the outer edge ofthe plantation that was to be, leaving with each circuit a broaderband of black and shining loam over which a flock of birds hopped andswept with eager movements, snapping up the insects and worms which,astonished at the great upheaval, wriggled in the overturned turf.

  "Looks sorter homelike here," said Younkins, with a pleased smile,as he drew his bench to the well-spread board and glanced around atthe walls of the cabin, where the boys had already hung theirfishing-tackle, guns, Oscar's violin, and a few odds and ends thatgave a picturesque look to the long-deserted cabin.

  "Yes," said Mr. Bryant, as he filled Younkins's tin cup with hotcoffee, "our boys have all got the knack of making themselves athome,--runs in the blood, I guess,--and if you come over here againin a day or two, you will probably find us with rugs on the floor andpictures on the walls. Sandy is a master-hand at hunting; and heintends to get a dozen buffalo-skins out of hand, so to speak, rightaway." And he looked fondly at his freckled nephew as he spoke.

  "A dibble and a corn-dropper will be more in his way than the rifle,for some weeks to come," said Mr. Howell.

  "What's a dibble?" asked both of the youngsters at once.

  The elder man smiled and looked at Younkins as he said, "A dibble, mylambs, is an instrument for the planting of corn. With it in one handyou punch a hole in the sod that has been turned over, and then, withthe other hand, you drop in three or four grains of corn from thecorn-dropper, cover it with your heel, and there you are,--planted."

  "Why, I supposed we were going to plant corn with a hoe; and we've gotthe hoes, too!" cried Oscar.

  "No, my son," said his father; "if we were to plant corn with a hoe,we shouldn't get through planting before next fall, I am afraid. Afterdinner, we will make some dibbles for you boys, for you must begin todrop corn to-morrow. What ploughing we have done to-day, you caneasily catch up with when you begin. And the three of you can all beon the furrow at once, if that seems worth while."

  The boys very soon understood fully what a dibble was, and what acorn-dropper was, strange though those implements were to them atfirst. Before the end of planting-time, they fervently wished they hadnever seen either of these instruments of the corn-planter.

  With the aid of a few rude tools, there was fashioned a staff from thetough hickory that grew near at hand, the lower part of the stickbeing thick and pointed at the end. The staff was about as high aswould come up to a boy's shoulder, so that as he grasped it near theupper end, his arm being bent, the lower end was on the ground.

  The upper end was whittled so as to make a convenient handle for theuser. The lower end was shaped carefully into something like theconvex sides of two spoons put together by their bowls, and the loweredge of this part was shaved down to a sharpness that was increased byslightly hardening it in the fire. Just above the thickest part of thedibble, a hole was bored at right angles through the wood, and intothis a peg was driven so that several inches stuck out on both sidesof the instrument. This completed the dibble.

  "So that is a dibble, is it?" said Oscar, when the first one was shownhim. "A dibble. Now let's see how you use it."

  Thereupon his Uncle Aleck stood up, grasped the staff by the upperend, pressed his foot on the peg at the lower end of the tool, and soforced the sharp point of the dibble downward into the earth. Then,drawing it out, a convex slit was shown in the elastic turf. Shakingan imaginary grain of corn into the hole, he closed it with a stamp ofhis heel, stepped on and repeated the motion a few times, and thensaid, "That's how they plant corn on the sod in Kansas."

  "Uncle Aleck, what a lot you know!" said Oscar, with undisguisedadmiration.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Bryant, taking a pair of old
boots, cut off the legsjust above the ankles, and, fastening in the lower end of each a roundbit of wood, by means of small nails, quickly made a pair ofcorn-droppers. Sandy's belt, being passed through the loop-strap ofone of these, was fastened around his waist. The dropper was to befilled with corn, and, thus accoutred, he was ready for doing duty inthe newly ploughed field. When the lad expressed his impatience foranother day to come so that he could begin corn-planting, the twoelders of the family laughed outright.

  "Sandy, boy, you will be glad when to-morrow night comes, so that youcan rest from your labors. You remember what I tell you!" said hisfather.

  Nevertheless, when the two boys stepped bravely out, next morning, inthe wake of the breaking-team, they were not in the least dismayed bythe prospect of working all day in the heavy furrows of the plough.Bryant drove the leading yoke of oxen, Charlie tried his 'prenticehand with the second yoke, and Howell held the plough.

  "'He that by the plough would thrive, Must either hold the plough or drive,'"

  commented Oscar, filling his corn-dropper and eyeing his father'srather awkward handling of the ox-goad. Uncle Aleck had usually driventhe cattle, but his hand was now required in the more difficultbusiness of holding the plough.

  "'Plough deep while sluggards sleep,'" replied his father; "and if youdon't manage better with dropping corn than I do with driving theseoxen, we shall have a short crop."

  "How many grains of corn to a hole, Uncle Aleck? and how many bushelsto the acre?" asked Oscar.

  "Not more than five grains nor less than three is the rule, my boy.Now then, step out lively."

  And the big team swept down the slope, leaving a broad and shiningfurrow behind it. The two boys followed, one about twenty feet behindthe other, and when the hindermost had come up to the work of him whowas ahead, he skipped the planted part and went on ahead of hiscomrade twenty feet, thus alternating each with the other. They werecheerily at work when, apparently from under the feet of the forwardyoke of oxen, a bird somewhat bigger than a robin flew up with shrieksof alarm and went fluttering off along the ground, tumbling in thegrass as if desperately wounded and unable to fly. Sandy made a rushfor the bird, which barely eluded his clutches once or twice, anddrew him on and on in a fruitless chase; for the timid creature soonrecovered the use of its wings, and soaring aloft, disappeared in thedepths of the sky.

  "That's the deceivingest bird I ever saw," panted Sandy, out of breathwith running, and looking shamefacedly at the corn that he had spilledin his haste to catch his prey. "Why, it acted just as if its rightwing was broken, and then it flew off as sound as a nut, for all Icould see."

  When the ploughmen met them, on the next turn of the team, Uncle Alecksaid, "Did you catch the lapwing, you silly boy? That fellow fooledyou nicely."

  "Lapwing?" said Sandy, puzzled. "What's a lapwing?" But the ploughmenwere already out of earshot.

  "Oh, I know now," said Oscar. "I've read of the lapwing; it is a birdso devoted to its young, or its nest, that when it fancies either indanger, it assumes all the distress of a wounded thing, and,fluttering along the ground, draws the sportsman away from thelocality."

  "Right out of a book, Oscar!" cried Sandy. "And here's its nest, assure as I'm alive!" So saying, the lad stooped, and, parting the grasswith his hands, disclosed a pretty nest sunk in the ground, holdingfive finely speckled eggs. The bird, so lately playing the cripple,cried and circled around the heads of the boys as they peered into thehome of the lapwing.

  "Well, here's an actual settler that we must disturb, Sandy," saidOscar; "for the plough will smash right through this nest on the verynext turn. Suppose we take it up and put it somewhere else, out ofharm's way?"

  "I'm willing," assented Sandy; and the two boys, carefully extractingthe nest from its place, carried it well over into the ploughedground, where under the lee of a thick turf it was left in safety.But, as might have been expected, the parent lapwing never went nearthat nest again. The fright had been too great.

  "What in the world are you two boys up to now?" shouted Uncle Aleckfrom the other side of the ploughing. "Do you call that dropping corn?Hurry and catch up with the team; you are 'way behind."

  "Great Scott!" cried Sandy; "I had clean forgotten the corn-dropping.A nice pair of farmers we are, Oscar!" and the lad, with might andmain, began to close rapidly the long gap between him and the steadilymoving ox-team.

  "Leg-weary work, isn't it, Sandy?" said his father, when they stoppedat noon to take the luncheon they had brought out into the field withthem.

  "Yes, and I'm terribly hungry," returned the boy, biting into a hugepiece of cold corn-bread. "I shouldn't eat this if I were at home, andI shouldn't eat it now if I weren't as hungry as a bear. Say, daddy,you cannot think how tired my leg is with the punching of that dibbleinto the sod; seems as if I couldn't hold out till sundown; but Isuppose I shall. First, I punch a hole by jamming down the dibble withmy foot, and then I kick the hole again with the same foot, after Ihave dropped in the grains of corn. These two motions are dreadfullytiresome."

  "Yes," said his uncle, with a short laugh, "and while I was watchingyou and Oscar, this forenoon, I couldn't help thinking that you didnot yet know how to make your muscles bear an equal strain. Supposeyou try changing legs?"

  "Changing legs?" exclaimed both boys at once. "Why, how could weexchange legs?"

  "I know what Uncle Aleck means. I saw you always used the right leg tojam down the dibble with, and then you kicked the hole full with theright heel. No wonder your right legs are tired. Change hands andlegs, once in a while, and use the dibble on the left side of you,"said Charlie, whose driving had tired him quite as thoroughly.

  "Isn't Charlie too awfully knowing for anything, Oscar?" said Sandy,with some sarcasm. Nevertheless, the lad got up, tried the dibble withhis left hand, and saying, "Thanks, Charlie," dropped down upon thefragrant sod and was speedily asleep, for a generous nooning wasallowed the industrious lads.