Chapter: AFTER I began to go to the country school, I saw less of the Bohemians. We
were sixteen pupils at the sod schoolhouse, and we all came on horseback
and brought our dinner. My schoolmates were none of them very interesting,
but I somehow felt that by making comrades of them I was getting even with
Antonia for her indifference. Since the father's death, Ambrosch was more
than ever the head of the house and he seemed to direct the feelings as
well as the fortunes of his women-folk. Antonia often quoted his opinions
to me, and she let me see that she admired him, while she thought of me
only as a little boy. Before the spring was over, there was a distinct
coldness between us and the Shimerdas. It came about in this way.

One Sunday I rode over there with Jake to get a horse-collar which
Ambrosch had borrowed from him and had not returned. It was a beautiful
blue morning. The buffalo-peas were blooming in pink and purple masses
along the roadside, and the larks, perched on last year's dried sunflower
stalks, were singing straight at the sun, their heads thrown back and
their yellow breasts a-quiver. The wind blew about us in warm, sweet
gusts. We rode slowly, with a pleasant sense of Sunday indolence.

We found the Shimerdas working just as if it were a week-day. Marek was
cleaning out the stable, and Antonia and her mother were making garden,
off across the pond in the draw-head. Ambrosch was up on the windmill
tower, oiling the wheel. He came down, not very cordially. When Jake asked
for the collar, he grunted and scratched his head. The collar belonged to
grandfather, of course, and Jake, feeling responsible for it, flared up.

"Now, don't you say you have n't got it, Ambrosch, because I know you
have, and if you ain't a-going to look for it, I will."

Ambrosch shrugged his shoulders and sauntered down the hill toward the
stable. I could see that it was one of his mean days. Presently he
returned, carrying a collar that had been badly used--trampled in the dirt
and gnawed by rats until the hair was sticking out of it.

"This what you want?" he asked surlily.

Jake jumped off his horse. I saw a wave of red come up under the rough
stubble on his face. "That ain't the piece of harness I loaned you,
Ambrosch; or if it is, you've used it shameful. I ain't a-going to carry
such a looking thing back to Mr. Burden."

Ambrosch dropped the collar on the ground. "All right," he said coolly,
took up his oil-can, and began to climb the mill. Jake caught him by the
belt of his trousers and yanked him back. Ambrosch's feet had scarcely
touched the ground when he lunged out with a vicious kick at Jake's
stomach. Fortunately Jake was in such a position that he could dodge it.
This was not the sort of thing country boys did when they played at
fisticuffs, and Jake was furious. He landed Ambrosch a blow on the head--it
sounded like the crack of an axe on a cow-pumpkin. Ambrosch dropped over,
stunned.

We heard squeals, and looking up saw Antonia and her mother coming on the
run. They did not take the path around the pond, but plunged through the
muddy water, without even lifting their skirts. They came on, screaming
and clawing the air. By this time Ambrosch had come to his senses and was
sputtering with nose-bleed. Jake sprang into his saddle. "Let's get out of
this, Jim," he called.

Mrs. Shimerda threw her hands over her head and clutched as if she were
going to pull down lightning. "Law, law!" she shrieked after us. "Law for
knock my Ambrosch down!"

"I never like you no more, Jake and Jim Burden," Antonia panted. "No
friends any more!"

Jake stopped and turned his horse for a second. "Well, you're a damned
ungrateful lot, the whole pack of you," he shouted back. "I guess the
Burdens can get along without you. You've been a sight of trouble to them,
anyhow!"

We rode away, feeling so outraged that the fine morning was spoiled for
us. I had n't a word to say, and poor Jake was white as paper and
trembling all over. It made him sick to get so angry. "They ain't the
same, Jimmy," he kept saying in a hurt tone. "These foreigners ain't the
same. You can't trust 'em to be fair. It's dirty to kick a feller. You
heard how the women turned on you--and after all we went through on account
of 'em last winter! They ain't to be trusted. I don't want to see you get
too thick with any of 'em."

"I'll never be friends with them again, Jake," I declared hotly. "I
believe they are all like Krajiek and Ambrosch underneath."

Grandfather heard our story with a twinkle in his eye. He advised Jake to
ride to town to-morrow, go to a justice of the peace, tell him he had
knocked young Shimerda down, and pay his fine. Then if Mrs. Shimerda was
inclined to make trouble--her son was still under age--she would be
forestalled. Jake said he might as well take the wagon and haul to market
the pig he had been fattening. On Monday, about an hour after Jake had
started, we saw Mrs. Shimerda and her Ambrosch proudly driving by, looking
neither to the right nor left. As they rattled out of sight down the Black
Hawk road, grandfather chuckled, saying he had rather expected she would
follow the matter up.

Jake paid his fine with a ten-dollar bill grandfather had given him for
that purpose. But when the Shimerdas found that Jake sold his pig in town
that day, Ambrosch worked it out in his shrewd head that Jake had to sell
his pig to pay his fine. This theory afforded the Shimerdas great
satisfaction, apparently. For weeks afterward, whenever Jake and I met
Antonia on her way to the post-office, or going along the road with her
work-team, she would clap her hands and call to us in a spiteful, crowing
voice:--

"Jake-y, Jake-y, sell the pig and pay the slap!"

Otto pretended not to be surprised at Antonia's behavior. He only lifted
his brows and said, "You can't tell me anything new about a Czech; I'm an
Austrian."

Grandfather was never a party to what Jake called our feud with the
Shimerdas. Ambrosch and Antonia always greeted him respectfully, and he
asked them about their affairs and gave them advice as usual. He thought
the future looked hopeful for them. Ambrosch was a far-seeing fellow; he
soon realized that his oxen were too heavy for any work except breaking
sod, and he succeeded in selling them to a newly arrived German. With the
money he bought another team of horses, which grandfather selected for
him. Marek was strong, and Ambrosch worked him hard; but he could never
teach him to cultivate corn, I remember. The one idea that had ever got
through poor Marek's thick head was that all exertion was meritorious. He
always bore down on the handles of the cultivator and drove the blades so
deep into the earth that the horses were soon exhausted.

In June Ambrosch went to work at Mr. Bushy's for a week, and took Marek
with him at full wages. Mrs. Shimerda then drove the second cultivator;
she and Antonia worked in the fields all day and did the chores at night.
While the two women were running the place alone, one of the new horses
got colic and gave them a terrible fright.

Antonia had gone down to the barn one night to see that all was well
before she went to bed, and she noticed that one of the roans was swollen
about the middle and stood with its head hanging. She mounted another
horse, without waiting to saddle him, and hammered on our door just as we
were going to bed. Grandfather answered her knock. He did not send one of
his men, but rode back with her himself, taking a syringe and an old piece
of carpet he kept for hot applications when our horses were sick. He found
Mrs. Shimerda sitting by the horse with her lantern, groaning and wringing
her hands. It took but a few moments to release the gases pent up in the
poor beast, and the two women heard the rush of wind and saw the roan
visibly diminish in girth.

"If I lose that horse, Mr. Burden," Antonia exclaimed, "I never stay here
till Ambrosch come home! I go drown myself in the pond before morning."

When Ambrosch came back from Mr. Bushy's, we learned that he had given
Marek's wages to the priest at Black Hawk, for masses for their father's
soul. Grandmother thought Antonia needed shoes more than Mr. Shimerda
needed prayers, but grandfather said tolerantly, "If he can spare six
dollars, pinched as he is, it shows he believes what he professes."

It was grandfather who brought about a reconciliation with the Shimerdas.
One morning he told us that the small grain was coming on so well, he
thought he would begin to cut his wheat on the first of July. He would
need more men, and if it were agreeable to every one he would engage
Ambrosch for the reaping and thrashing, as the Shimerdas had no small
grain of their own.

"I think, Emmaline," he concluded, "I will ask Antonia to come over and
help you in the kitchen. She will be glad to earn something, and it will
be a good time to end misunderstandings. I may as well ride over this
morning and make arrangements. Do you want to go with me, Jim?" His tone
told me that he had already decided for me.

After breakfast we set off together. When Mrs. Shimerda saw us coming, she
ran from her door down into the draw behind the stable, as if she did not
want to meet us. Grandfather smiled to himself while he tied his horse,
and we followed her.

Behind the barn we came upon a funny sight. The cow had evidently been
grazing somewhere in the draw. Mrs. Shimerda had run to the animal, pulled
up the lariat pin, and, when we came upon her, she was trying to hide the
cow in an old cave in the bank. As the hole was narrow and dark, the cow
held back, and the old woman was slapping and pushing at her hind
quarters, trying to spank her into the draw-side.

Grandfather ignored her singular occupation and greeted her politely.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Shimerda. Can you tell me where I will find Ambrosch?
Which field?"

"He with the sod corn." She pointed toward the north, still standing in
front of the cow as if she hoped to conceal it.

"His sod corn will be good for fodder this winter," said grandfather
encouragingly. "And where is Antonia?"

"She go with." Mrs. Shimerda kept wiggling her bare feet about nervously
in the dust.

"Very well. I will ride up there. I want them to come over and help me cut
my oats and wheat next month. I will pay them wages. Good-morning. By the
way, Mrs. Shimerda," he said as he turned up the path, "I think we may as
well call it square about the cow."

She started and clutched the rope tighter. Seeing that she did not
understand, grandfather turned back. "You need not pay me anything more;
no more money. The cow is yours."

"Pay no more, keep cow?" she asked in a bewildered tone, her narrow eyes
snapping at us in the sunlight.

"Exactly. Pay no more, keep cow." He nodded.

Mrs. Shimerda dropped the rope, ran after us, and crouching down beside
grandfather, she took his hand and kissed it. I doubt if he had ever been
so much embarrassed before. I was a little startled, too. Somehow, that
seemed to bring the Old World very close.

We rode away laughing, and grandfather said: "I expect she thought we had
come to take the cow away for certain, Jim. I wonder if she would n't have
scratched a little if we'd laid hold of that lariat rope!"

Our neighbors seemed glad to make peace with us. The next Sunday Mrs.
Shimerda came over and brought Jake a pair of socks she had knitted. She
presented them with an air of great magnanimity, saying, "Now you not come
any more for knock my Ambrosch down?"

Jake laughed sheepishly. "I don't want to have no trouble with Ambrosch.
If he'll let me alone, I'll let him alone."

"If he slap you, we ain't got no pig for pay the fine," she said
insinuatingly.

Jake was not at all disconcerted. "Have the last word, mam," he said
cheerfully. "It's a lady's privilege."

 Jim sees even less of the Shimerdas after he starts going to school in town. He rides into town every day and has made some friends among his classmates, which he considers revenge against Antonia. He doesn't like that Ambrosch is influencing Antonia more and more. One event caused a rift between the Shimerdas and the Burdens. One day Jim and Jake rode over to the Shimerdas to get a horse-collar back that Ambrosch had borrowed. The whole family is working hard when they arrive. At first, Ambrosch tries to say that he doesn't have the collar. But Jake insists. Jim can tell that Ambrosch is in a mean mood. Ambrosch comes back with a ratty old horse-collar, and Jake is angry since he loaned him a nice horse-collar. Ambrosch drops the collar on the ground and turns to leave. Jake grabs him and pulls him back and the two start to fight. Ambrosch fights dirty, and Jake ends up smacking him in the head. Antonia and her mother come running. Mrs. Shimerda is yelling for the law, while Antonia tells Jim that they aren't friends anymore. Jake calls them ungrateful and the two of them ride back home. On the way, Jake explains that you can't ever trust foreigners. Jim agrees he will never be friends with a foreigner again. Grandfather listens to the story but seems amused by it. He tells Jake to ride into town tomorrow and pay the fine for knocking a man down. He also tells him to take a pig to market that he's been fattening up for selling. The Shimerdas ride to town the next day to try and get Jake in trouble for slapping Ambrosch, but Jake gets to town first to pay the fine and so it's already taken care of. Ambrosch finds out that Jake sold a pig the same day and he thinks that the Burdens were forced to sell their pig to pay the fine . The Shimerdas take great pleasure in taunting the Burdens about this. Otto is unfazed by the Shimerdas' behavior, because he says Austrians know what Czechs are like. Grandfather never took part in the feud between the two families. He always treated the Shimerdas well. In June Ambrosch and Marek work for hire at Mr. Bushy's. That leaves Antonia and Mrs. Shimerda to do the work at their own farm. One of their horses gets sick and so Antonia rides over to the Burdens one night to get help. Grandfather goes with her to the farm and cures the horse. Later they learn that Ambrosch gave the wages he earned working at Mr. Bushy's to a priest to pray for his father's soul. Grandmother thinks this is foolish, but Grandfather admires it. Finally Grandfather gets the two families to reconcile. He decides to hire Ambrosch to help him in the fields and Antonia to help in the kitchen. He brings Jim over there to make arrangements in person. They head over after breakfast. Mrs. Shimerda sees them coming and hides behind the stable, but Grandfather just ties up his horse and follows her. They find her trying to hide the cow she bought from Grandfather. Grandfather ignores this and greets her. He asks where they can find Ambrosch. Mrs. Shimerda points them in the direction of the North field and says Antonia is there, too. Grandfather explains that he wants to hire both of them. Then he tells her they can call it even on the cow, that she doesn't owe him any more money. Mrs. Shimerda kisses Grandfather's hand as a thank-you. As they drive away, Grandfather says she probably thought they were coming to take the cow back. The next day Mrs. Shimerda comes over to the Burdens' to bring Jake a pair of socks she knitted. She clearly wants to make peace, though she still taunts Jake about having to sell the pig to pay for slapping Ambrosch. Jake is unruffled, and says that it's fine with him and she can have the last word.

