Bartering with Chief Thundercloud ( )

From time to time during the years, our Miss Brooks has been teaching at Madison High. Her relations with her principal have been rather strained. But so far this semester, she and Mr. Conklin have apparently buried their differences.

Only because we couldn't do the same to each other. But actually, in recent weeks, Mr. Conklin has been rather considerate to me. At least he was until this past Wednesday. On that morning, he reverted to type and ordered me to be a teacher.

That morning he reverted to type and ordered me to be at his home an hour before school started. So promptly at 7.30 Harriet Conklin admitted me and said she'd see what her father was doing.

At 7.35 she returned covered with lather so I didn't have to ask. Then she excused herself and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. At 7.40 the doorbell rang and since no one was around I stood there for a moment undecided to do, but in the Conklin household no one remains undecided for very long.

And Miss Brooks, would you please answer the doorbell? Please answer the doorbell Miss Brooks. Answer the doorbell Miss Inston. I answered the doorbell. When I opened the door to my surprise, there stood an American Indian in full regalia and right behind him stood his squaw who appeared to have a poos on her back.

No sooner had I opened the door when the Indian said... Oh. ...a very simple. I turned the door knob and it opened. Oh. I just told you. Lady, how is greeting? I chief thunderplow. This my squaw.

How? I just turned the door. Oh, no. Oh, no. Mr. Conklin live here? Yes. This is his wigwam, the house. Want to come in? Mr. Conklin, expect me. Me, like you're at Madison High School today.