THE "TAIL" CONTINUED
Written by Roland MizonPublished on January 2018
With her gaze directed on me, who kept a straight face, she demanded, “Who is responsible for this?” Her eyes scanned the room but no one replied. Then her view was directed towards me. I was the only one with a straight face and she looked me straight in the eye and pointed her finger at me and remarked, “It was you!” I had no option but to admit it. She said I was a naughty and mischievous boy and a bad example to my fellow pupils, much to the amusement of the rest of the school, especially the little boy who had sold me the Pig’s tail for a nickel. He laughed so much I thought that he was going to explode.
However, ultimately, the tail was confined to the waste basket (using her finger and thumb) and we all eventually settled down.
Teaching started again (mixed up with a giggle here and there) but the teacher, when she turned in my direction, could not help giving me the hint of a smile. I was sure that she saw the funny side of my jape.
What a tale Donald had to tell his Mum and Dad who thought it hilarious and a little audacious. Even Grandma Bannerman had a little chuckle even though, at the same time, she gave me a finger-wagging in my absence. Donald related to me that she had a word for me, but all she said was, “I hear that Ronald had the whole class chuckling.”
As my first year moved on in Barney’s River, two more jobs were in the offing and Linus suggested that I prepare myself to help out with the threshing and ask Donald when they would be doing this and offer my services where I could. Also, help with wood to be cut and hauled to the environs of the homestead for the winter.
Soon came the request to help as I had offered with the threshing and Linus advised me to wear my oldest clothes. So off I went and with Donald went to the barn where all the stacks of grain were stored, drying out. “Ever done it before?” he asked. “No I replied. I have seen it done but I was much younger and was not allowed near the thresher.”
Subsequently, I was given the job of hauling the stokes of grain to the machine where an able-bodied man thrust it into the first phase.
The thresher was not the property of the Bannermans but a man who hired it out in the surrounding area.
Anyway, off we went. Me, Donald, Alan and the machine owner worked hard all morning, stopping just to have a lemonade drink from Mrs. Bannerman. It was essential to keep going as it was a very dusty job, and sweaty too. By mid-afternoon it was all done and the bagged grain was stacked away ready for the winter fodder for the horses and a little for the dairy cows.
Tired and dirty, we three of the Bannerman team retired to the house and were treated to a nice shower bath. The threshing man owner declined as he had to go home and give his machine a good clean ready for the next client. I was ready to go back to Linus' and Katherine's but Mrs. Bannerman, ever efficient, had laid out a meal and thirst-quenching drinks in the kitchen for Alan, Donald, and I. She was a STAR if there ever was one. And I went home with a basin full of homemade fudge (and a kiss).
Later on in the year I joined Donald to go to the woods to fell small trees - birch, pine and the like. By now, the first snow had fallen and so we took a rather grand four-runner sled pulled by two of their horses.
Donald loved his horses and I soon became attached.
Trees hauled home, trimmed, sawn into useful lengths then split for the stove and the furnace in their respective lengths. I had done this job when with Harry Powell but was not allowed to use the axe which is when Allister chopped off his Dad’s fingers.
I shall never forget it and I suppose neither will Allister.