The Bleeding Man by Craig Strete Read Free Book Online Page B

pa­tiently. "And the traveling of light is
mathematics."
    Great-grandfather
nodded his head wisely. "Ah, yes! Mathematics." A shadow darkened his face and he
scowled.
    "What the hell is
mathematics?" growled great­grandfather.
    "Counting and
measuring. Adding and subtracting the number of things one has," said great-grandson.
    "Sending you to
away-school has turned you into a wise nose! Why didn't you say that the first time! Mathematics!
Any fool knows how to count on his fin­gers! You went to away-school to learn a four-dollar word
for counting on your fingers? This is the kind of a thing you are learning?"
    "You don't
understand. We learn more than just how to count on our fingers. We've learned how to measure
great distances. For instance, I know how far away the stars are."
    Great-grandfather
shook his head. He looked at his wife. They both shrugged. "That is very interesting," said
great-grandfather. "And what is that used for?"
    "I don't know,"
admitted great-grandson. "They only told me how far away it is."
    "What other kinds
of things have they told you?" asked great-grandmother. "These things sound as crazy as eating
rocks."
    "Well, I have
learned that man was once an ape, that the earth flies in the air around the sun and that when
people die their bodies rot and their souls go to heaven. Also I learned that—"
    Great-grandfather
jumped off the rock. "What? What?" he shouted. "What is this craziness! Has my great-grandson
fallen upon his head too many times!"
    Great-grandmother
tried to quiet great-grandfather down but he jumped around like a frightened horse. He paced back
and forth, cursing loudly.
    "They also told me
the Great Spirit is superstition," said great-grandson.
    "What is this
superstition?" roared great-grandfather. "Is that another of those city funnies you picked up at
away-school? If I wasn't so old I'd flatten you with a rock! I never heard such
foolishness!"
    "But
great-grandfather," protested great-grandson, "I am only telling you what they are teaching me at
away-school. It isn't my fault that the white people are all crazy. They even told me that it was
impossible to talk with people after they are dead."
    "They have 
gone  too  far!"  shrieked  great-grand-father. "They have gone too far!
There will be no more away-school!"
    Great-grandfather
beat his scrawny chest with his fists in a defiant gesture which sent him into a fit of
coughing.
    Great-grandmother
patted him on the back as his face swelled up and turned red.
    She looked
disgusted. "You shouldn't have told him all those terrible things," she said, pounding
great­grandfather's back vigorously. "You know this happens every time he gets upset."
    Great-grandson
looked properly apologetic and helped great-grandmother sit him back on his favorite sitting
rock. The coughing fit passed, leaving great­grandfather weak and gasping for breath.
    "It's the vapors,"
said great-grandmother. "If he had enough sense to come in out of the—"
    Great-grandfather
scowled so ferociously that she stopped speaking. She knew when she was well off.
    "No more!" gasped
great-grandfather between gasps. "No more away-school!"
    "But
great-grandfather," the boy protested. "I will be arrested and thrown into the white man's jail
if I do not go to away-school."
    The old man folded
his arms across his chest. He raised his head, tilting it at a defiant angle. He sucked his
scrawny stomach in and pushed his thin chest out. It was his warrior's stance, which had once put
fear into the hearts of many a comely woman. When great­grandfather did this, it meant that his
mind was made up. It meant that there would be no further discussion. It meant that there would
be no more away-school. It also meant another coughing spell for great-grand­father, who was
always forgetting his condition.
    Great-grandmother
began whacking him on the back again with the practiced ease of one who has done it many hundreds
of times.