I knew the way Papa and Mamma were feeling at that moment they would have rather had a cup of coffee than anything. But Mr. Olsen and Mrs. Winters were Mormons and the Mormons never drank coffee because it was against their religion, just as they never drank tea or any kind of alcoholic beverages or ever smoked any kind of tobacco. All the grown-ups in the chamber except Mr. and Mrs. Jensen accepted a sandwich and a glass of milk from the two ladies. Then Mrs. Winters finally coaxed them into having a sandwich and a glass of milk.
All the adults had been served and it was now time for Sweyn and me to dive into the basket and gorge ourselves on ham and roast chicken and roast beef sandwiches and then top it off with a glass of milk.
After we had eaten our fill, time began moving so slowly that it seemed as if the whole world had come to a halt. I asked Papa the time so many times that he threatened to send me home if I asked him again. But after three hours had passed, Papa himself began looking at his watch every few minutes. He became so nervous that Mamma got suspicious.
“Is there anything you haven’t told me?” she asked.
“Mark did say there was some risk,” Papa admitted.
I thought at first Mamma would start crying, but she didn’t. She put her hand in Papa’s and stood straight and brave.
Another hour passed very slowly. Mrs. Jensen began crying as her husband held her in his arms, trying to comfort her. Mamma stood staring at the entrance to the passageway. Papa paced nervously back and forth.
Then Don Huddle left his guard post at the entrance to the cave and walked over to Papa. “We will give them another hour, Fitz,” he said, “and if they don’t come back by then, we’ll send a search party in for them.”
Sweyn shook his head as he whispered to me, “Maybe old T.D. is a goner.”
I thought I heard a dog bark. Then I was sure of it. I jumped to my feet.
“That’s Brownie!” I shouted.
We all ran to the entrance to the passageway. I could now hear both Brownie and Lady barking. Then I saw a flicker of light down the passageway.
Sweyn slapped me on the shoulder. “Old T.D. and his great brain did it!” he shouted.
“T.D. my eye,” I said, feeling left out of the glory. “What good would his great brain have been without my dog?”
Mrs. Jensen clasped her hands in prayer. “Please, God,” she prayed, “let my sons be with them.”
Then we heard Uncle Mark shout, “All safe and sound! I’m going to release the dogs now. They are tearing my arm off.”
Brownie and Lady came running into the chamber a moment later. Brownie ran over to me. I knelt and put my arms around him as he licked my face and barked happily. Then he broke away from me. He barked at Lady. They ran out of the cave together. The sight of the two dogs coming out of the cave brought a cheer from the waiting crowd outside.
Inside the chamber everything was just about as mushy as it could get as Uncle Mark, Tom, Frank, and Allan came out of the passageway. Nobody waited for Uncle Mark to untie the rope around their waists. Frank and Allan kept blinking their eyes as their mother and father hugged and kissed them. I guess the light hurt their eyes after being in darkness so long. Papa and Mamma were fussing over Tom as if he’d just returned from a long sea voyage. Sweyn was running around patting everybody on the back as if he were responsible for the rescue. Uncle Mark and. Don Huddle were slapping each other on the shoulders and laughing loudly. The rest of the people in the chamber were hugging each other, shaking hands, pounding each other on the back, and carrying on like you never saw. My dog had made the rescue possible, and nobody was paying any attention to me.
Tom no sooner got the rope off his waist than Mr. Jensen picked him up and put my brother on his shoulder. He carried Tom out of the chamber with the rest of us following. The crowd outside began to applaud and cheer as they saw Mr. Jensen and Tom and Frank and Allan. Several men got so excited they began shooting their revolvers in the air. Mr. Jensen held up one hand for silence. The crowd became quiet immediately.
“My sons owe their lives to this brave boy on my shoulder!” Mr. Jensen shouted.
The crowd went wild then, whistling, shouting, applauding as if Tom were some kind of a king.
Then Uncle Mark held up his hands for silence. “The Jensen boys are exhausted and very hungry,” he shouted. “I could use some rest myself. Please make way for us and let us go home.”
The crowd made a pathway as Mr. Jensen put Tom down. They kept cheering and reaching out to pat my brother on the shoulder as we walked down Cedar Ridge with Mamma and Papa. They even followed us home and stood in the street in front of our house.
I followed Papa, Mamma, Sweyn, and Tom into our parlor. Tom walked to the big bay window and looked out at the crowd in the street.
“I guess I’ll have to speak to them,” he said.
Papa winked at Mamma. “I think that would be a good idea, T.D.,” he said.
I started to follow Tom out to the front porch to share in the bows because it was my dog.
“Let him go alone, J.D.,” Papa said. “This is his day.”
Far be it from me to be jealous, but this was getting to be sickening. Everybody was hailing my brother as a hero when my dog was the real hero. My dog couldn’t take any bows, but as his owner I could have taken a few for him.
The crowd gave a mighty cheer as Tom appeared on the front porch. My brother held up his hands for silence. The crowd obeyed him.
“When I learned that Uncle Mark and the search party were about ready to give up the search as hopeless,” he said, with about as much modesty as a plucked chicken hanging in the window of the Deseret Meat Market, “I knew the only way to save Frank and Allan and Lady was to put my great brain to work. I would have done it sooner but I wanted to give the grown-ups every chance. When they failed, I knew it
was up to me to save the day. And now, folks, please go home. I’ve got to rest up my great brain so it will be ready the next time something happens which you grown-ups can’t solve.”
I expected the crowd of grown men and women to throw rotten eggs at Tom after the way he had insulted them. Instead they cheered and applauded.
Papa looked at Mamma and smiled. “What a modest son we have,” he said.
“You can’t deny,” Mamma said “that his great brain did make fools out of Mark and the rest of the men in this tow.”
“What about my dog?” I asked, feeling completely left out.
Papa and Mamma had no ears for me as their conquering hero came back into the parlor. They fussed over him right up until it was time for us boys to go to bed that night. I only had a little brain but it only took a little brain to figure it all out. If I hadn’t been playing with Brownie and making my dog bark when Tom was up in his loft, The Great Brain might never have got the idea of using my dog for the rescue.
One other thing bothered me. I asked Tom about it as we were getting undressed for bed that night.
“What did you mean when you said it would cost you a fortune if Frank and Allan and Lady were not found alive?” I asked.
Tom held his undershirt half over his head and peered out of it like a photographer taking a picture.
“It’s a business deal I made with them,” he answered.
“What kind of a deal?” I asked because I was curious.
Tom whipped off his undershirt. “That is none of your business,” he said.
The only business deal I knew about with Frank and Allan was that I would get the pick of the litter from Brownie and Lady’s pups, I couldn’t help feeling before I fell asleep that somehow and in some way I was going to end up with the short end of the deal. And, oh, how I wished I had a great brain like my brother’s so I could figure it out.
CHAPTER FOUR
Abie Glassman Finds a Home
ABIE GLASSMAN AND HIS peddler’s wagon arrived in Adenville just a few days after The Great Brain had saved the day. Abie traveled all over southwestern Utah with his peddler’s wagon, selling merchandise t
o ranchers, farmers, and people living in small towns. Everybody, including children, called him Abie, because ‘he was that type of a man — friendly, kind, and gentle.
The wagon was painted white and had signs on both sides of it reading THE TRAVELING EMPORIUM. It was constructed so it could be opened to display merchandise on both sides. The tailgate let down, forming steps leading into the wagon. The aisle down the center of the wagon had shelves on both sides containing merchandise. Everything from hairpins to coyote traps was on display.
Tom and I were sitting on our back porch, polishing Mamma’s silverware for Sunday’s dinner on the Saturday morning Abie arrived in town. We had a bucket of ashes Aunt Bertha had taken from the kitchen range that morning before building a fire in it, a pan of water, and a pile of clean rags. We dipped the rags into the water and then into the bucket of ashes and used this to polish all the stains off the silverware. It was a boring job but one Tom and I had to do every Saturday morning so the silverware would be all clean and sparkling for our Sunday dinner.
Howard Kay came running into our backyard and up onto our back porch. “Abie and his peddler’s wagon are here!” he shouted. “He’s coming down Main Street right now.
Tom got up and ran to the kitchen door. “Mamma,” he shouted, “can we let the silverware go until we’ve seen Abie and his peddler’s wagon?”
“All right, boys, but don’t stay too long,” Mamma said.
We ran around to Main Street with Howard. Abie and his wagon were just passing in front of our house. There were a couple of dozen kids following it. We joined them and followed the wagon to a vacant lot owned by Calvin Whitlock, the banker, who always let Abie use it when in town. By the time we had arrived at the vacant lot there were about fifty kids with us. We waited patiently while Abie unhitched his team and staked them out in the lot.
Abie was a small man with a gray beard and moustache. He wore a Jewish skull cap and his gray hair protruded from beneath it.
“I think we are ready now, boys,” he said as he let down the tailgate of the wagon. “Get in line and don’t push, please.”
Every year since I could remember, Abie had let us kids see the inside of the wagon first. This was only half of the treat when Abie came to town. He always stationed himself outside the wagon with a glass jar filled with jaw-breaker candy, the kind that lasts a long time. As we came out of the wagon each kid was given a jaw-breaker.
Tom and I saw the inside of the wagon and received our jaw-breaker and then returned to our job of polishing silverware on our back porch. Sweyn was lucky. Mamma said he was too old to have to polish silverware anymore.
When Papa came home that evening, he told Mamma he’d invited Abie for Sunday dinner. A Sunday dinner in our house without guests was unusual. Mamma always prepared for guests because half the time Papa forgot to tell her that he had invited people for Sunday dinner. One Sunday Papa had forgotten to tell Mamma that he’d invited Chief Tav-Whad-Im and the chief’s two sons and their squaws for Sunday dinner. The Indian was the chief of the Pa-Roos-Its band of the Paiute tribe that lived on the Indian reservation near Adenville. The chief’s name translated into English meant Chief Rising Sun, and you would have thought the way the chief and his sons and their squaws ate that Sunday that none of them ever expected to see the sun rise again. It was a good thing Mamma had prepared for guests that day.
Sunday morning we all went to the Community Church. There were only two churches in Adenville, the Mormon Tabernacle and the Community Church. All the Catholics and Protestants in town went to the Community Church. Once in a while a Catholic missionary priest came to Adenville to baptize Catholic babies, marry Catholics, and hold Confessions and Mass in the Community Church. And once a year the Reverend Ingle came to town and held a revival meeting in a big tent on the campground, lasting one week. All the Protestants in town went to the revival meeting.
When we returned from church, Tom, Sweyn, and I quickly changed into our old clothes. Then we waited on the back porch until Papa had changed clothes and come out wearing his overalls. This was the day of the week when we made ice cream, and everybody helped.
We followed Papa down to our icehouse which was located next to our barn. Papa had our icehouse filled every winter with big cakes of ice two feet wide and four feet long, which were brought from a lake in the mountains. The ice was covered with two feet of sawdust so it wouldn’t melt during the summer. Papa took a scoop shovel from a nail on the wall in the icehouse and shoveled away the sawdust down to the ice. Then he used a crowbar to pry one of the big cakes of ice loose. Sweyn was ready with the two-man ice saw and helped Papa cut off a cake of ice for our icebox and a cake of ice to use to make ice cream. Tom and I used the ice tongs to drag the cakes of ice outside while Papa and Sweyn covered up the ice in the icehouse again with sawdust. Papa carried the cake of ice with ice tongs and Tom and Sweyn the other cake, to our backyard. We washed the sawdust off of both cakes of ice with our garden hose. Papa carried one cake into the kitchen and put it in the icebox. Tom and Sweyn put the other cake into a wooden tub and began chopping it up with ice picks.
Mamma had the ingredients for making chocolate ice cream poured into the freezer bucket by this time. Sweyn carried the freezer from the kitchen to the back porch. He and Tom packed the freezer with ice and salt. I folded two gunnysacks and placed them on top of the freezer. It was my job to sit on the freezer and hold it steady while Tom and Sweyn took turns turning the handle which made the freezer bucket go around and around in the ice. When the handle got a little hard to turn, Tom called Mamma and told her he thought the ice cream was done. Nobody knew better than Mamma that the ice cream wasn’t hard enough, but she never let on. Sweyn uncovered the top of the freezer bucket and wiped the lid off with a towel. Mamma dipped a spoon into the ice cream and tasted it.
“It isn’t done, boys,” she said.
“Looks done to me,” Tom said.
There was nothing Mamma could do but let Tom and then Sweyn and me taste a spoonful of the ice cream.
“You are right, Mamma,” Tom said. “It isn’t done.”
Sweyn put the lid back on the freezer bucket and repacked the top with ice and salt. I took up my position. We all knew Mamma wouldn’t stand for any more nonsense. My brothers kept turning the handle until they knew the ice cream was frozen just right.
“It is ready for sure now, Mamma,” Tom sang out.
Mamma came out to the porch carrying a big bread pan and three spoons. Sweyn uncovered the freezer bucket. Just as Mamma started to remove the dasher from the bucket, Tom began to whistle.
“What are you whistling about?” Sweyn asked.
“Just thinking about cleaning off the dasher makes me so happy I feel like whistling,” Tom answered.
This was one time, I thought to myself, that Seth Smith and Pete Hanson were going to be left out. Every Sunday since school let out both of them had shown up just as Mamma was about to take the dasher out.
“Hello, boys” — Mamma’s voice dashed my hopes — “you are just in time.”
I turned around. Standing on the porch steps were Seth and Pete with their mouths watering.
Mamma pulled the dasher from the bucket, scraping some ice cream of the blades but still leaving a generous amount. She put the dasher in the bread pan. We had to wait until she went into the kitchen to get spoons for Seth and Pete.
“All right, boys,” Mamma said as we crowded around the porch table with the bread pan and dasher in the center of it. “One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and away you go!”
Tom with his great brain knew the parts of the dasher to scrape to get the biggest spoonfuls of ice cream. But I managed to give a fair account of myself until the dasher was clean. Then we tipped the bread pan to scoop up the ice cream that had fallen or melted off the dasher.
I got suspicious as I watched Tom walk arm in arm down our porch steps with Seth and Pete as Sweyn repacked the top of the freezer with ice and salt. It just wa
sn’t like my brother to be so bighearted about sharing the dasher with his two friends every Sunday. I followed them until they went around the corner of our woodshed and stopped. I craned my neck and listened.
“Here’s my penny,” I heard Pete say.
“And mine,” Seth said.
“What about next Sunday?” Tom asked.
“What kind you going to have?” Pete asked.
“Pineapple,” Tom said. “And you both know Mamma makes the best pineapple ice cream in town.”
“We’ll be here,” Pete said. “Same time. Same signal.”
“Right,” Tom said. “When you hear me whistling, come to the back porch.”
I wanted to run around the corner of the woodshed and denounce my brother for being a crook. I restrained myself until Seth and Pete had left.
“I heard everything,” I said to Tom as he came around the corner of the woodshed. “I’m going to tell Mamma. And, boy, when I tell Sweyn, will he give it to you.”
“J.D.,” Tom said, putting his arm around my shoulder, “I’m not going to try to influence you one way or another. But if you tell Mamma, she is going to insist I give Seth and Pete back the pennies I’ve collected so far. And knowing Mamma, she will also insist I invite Seth and Pete every Sunday, because their folks are too poor to have ice cream except on special occasions. And Seth is more your friend than he is mine because he is nearer your age. Am I right?”
“I guess that is what Mamma would do all right,” I admitted. “But you swindled Sweyn and me.”
“How?” Tom asked.
“We would both get more ice cream off the dasher without Pete and Seth digging in,” I answered.
“No, you wouldn’t” Tom said. “Did you notice I always whistle before and not after Mamma takes the dasher from the freezer bucket? That is so she will see Pete and Seth. You don’t think Mamma would leave that much ice cream on the dasher just for you and me and Sweyn, do you?”
“I guess not,” I said. “So I won’t tell Mamma but I am going to tell Sweyn.
The Great Brain Page 6