6
Many changes were taking place in the Lincoln cabin. Sarah persuaded Tomto cut two holes in the walls for windows, and she covered them withgreased paper to let in the light. He made a wooden door that could beshut against the cold winter winds. Abe and Dennis gave the walls andlow ceiling a coat of whitewash, and Sarah spread her bright rag rugs onthe new wooden floor.
"Aunt Sairy," Dennis told her, "you're some punkins. One just naturallyhas to be somebody when you're around."
Abe smiled up at her shyly. "It is sort of like the magic in that storyof Sinbad you gave me."
The other children were asleep. Abe sprawled on the floor, making markson a wooden shovel with a pointed stick. Tom, seated in one of hiswife's chairs, was dozing on one side of the fireplace.
Sarah put down her knitting and looked around the cabin. "The placedoes look right cozy," she replied. "What is that you're doing, Abe?"
"Working my sums."
Tom opened his eyes. "You know how to figure enough already. Put thatshovel up and go to bed."
Abe took a knife and scraped the figures from the wooden shovel. Heplaced it against one side of the fireplace. "Good night, Mamma," hesaid.
"Good night, Abe."
Sarah's eyes were troubled. She waited until Dennis had joined Abe inthe loft, then turned to her husband. "I've been meaning to tell you,Tom, what a good pa you've been to my young ones."
She saw that he was pleased. "I've tried to be a good mother to Abe andSally, too," she went on.
"You have been, Sairy. They took to you right off."
"I'm right glad, but there's something else I want to talk to you about,Tom." He was nodding again in his chair, and she paused to make surethat he was listening. "Abe's a smart boy. I told him the next time aschool keeps in these parts, I'd ask you to let him and the otherchildren go."
"Humph!" Tom grunted. "There ain't any school for him to go to. Anyway,he wastes enough time as 'tis. He's always got his nose buried in thosebooks you brought."
"That bothers me, too. I saw you cuff him the other day because he wasreading."
"I had to, Sairy. I told him to come out and chop some wood, but he upand laughed in my face."
"He wasn't laughing at you, Tom. He was laughing at Sinbad."
"Who in tarnation is Sinbad?"
"A fellow in one of his books. Abe said that Sinbad sailed his flatboatup to a rock, and the rock was magnetized and pulled all the nails outof his boat. Then Sinbad fell into the water."
"That's what I mean," Tom exploded. "Dennis told him that book was mostlikely lies, but Abe keeps on reading it. Where is all this booklearning going to get him? More'n I ever had."
"Maybe the Lord meant for young ones to be smarter than their parents,"said Sarah, "or the world might never get any better."
Tom shook his head in dismay. "Women and their fool notions! If I don'twatch out, you'll be spoiling the boy more'n his own mammy did."
Sarah's cheeks were red as she bent over her knitting. Tom was rightabout one thing. There was no school for Abe to go to. But some daythere would be. Every few weeks another clearing was made in the forest,and the neighbors gathered for a "house raising" to help put up a cabin.Then smoke would rise from a new chimney, and another new home would bestarted in the wilderness.
With so many new settlers, there was usually plenty of work for Abe.Whenever Tom did not need him at home, he hired out at twenty-five centsa day. He gave this money to his father. That was the law, Tom said. Notuntil Abe was twenty-one would he be allowed to keep his wages forhimself. As a hired boy, he plowed corn, chopped wood, and did all kindsof chores. He did not like farming, but he managed to have fun.
"Pa taught me to work," Abe told one farmer who had hired him, "but henever taught me to love it."
The farmer scratched his head. He couldn't understand a boy who wasalways reading, and if Abe wasn't reading he was telling jokes. Thefarmer thought that Abe was lazy.
"Sometimes," the farmer said, "I get awful mad at you, Abe Lincoln. Youcrack your jokes and spin your yarns, if you want to, while the men areeating their dinner. But don't you keep them from working."
The other farm hands liked to gather around Abe when they stopped to eattheir noon meal. Sometimes he would stand on a tree stump and"speechify." The men would become so interested that they would be lategetting back to the fields. Other times he would tell them stories thathe had read in books or that he had heard from some traveler who hadpassed through Pigeon Creek. He nearly always had a funny story to tell.
Yet there was "something peculiarsome about Abe," as Dennis Hanks oncesaid. He would be laughing one minute; the next minute he would looksolemn and sad. He would walk along the narrow forest trails, a farawaylook in his eyes. Someone would say "Howdy, Abe." Then he would grin andstart "cracking jokes" again.
Although he worked such long hours, Abe still found time to read. He satup late and got up early in the morning, and Sarah made the childrenkeep quiet when he wanted to study. Sometimes he took a book to workwith him. Instead of talking to the other farm hands at noon, he'd gooff by himself and read a few pages while he ate his dinner. People formiles around loaned him books. Sometimes he walked fifteen miles toRockport, the county seat, to borrow books from John Pitcher, the townlawyer.
"Everything I want to know is in books," he told Dennis. "My best friendis a man who can give me a book I ain't read."
Late one afternoon, about two years after Sarah had arrived, Abe camehome with a new book under his arm. Tom and Dennis had joined several oftheir neighbors in a big bear hunt and planned to be gone for severaldays. Abe planned to read--and read--and read.
"What do you think, Mamma?" he asked. "I have a chance to read theDeclaration of Independence."
Sarah smiled into his eager eyes. "Now isn't that nice?"
He showed her the book. It belonged to David Turnham, the constable. Mr.Turnham had said that Abe might borrow it for several days, if hepromised to be careful.
"What is it about?" Sarah asked.
"It has the laws of Indiana in it, and it tells how the government ofour country was started." Abe's voice took on a new tone of excitement."It has the Declaration of Independence in it and the Constitution,too."
He pulled a stool up to the fire and began to read. There was no soundin the little cabin except the steady click-click of Sarah's knittingneedles. She glanced at him now and then. This tall, awkward boy hadbecome very dear to her. As dear as her own children, perhaps evendearer, but he was harder to understand. No matter how much he learned,he wanted to learn more. He was always hungry, hungry for knowledge--nothungry for bacon and cornbread the way Johnny was. The idea made herchuckle.
Abe did not hear. He laid the book on his knee and stared into theflames. His lips were moving, although he made no sound.
"What are you saying to yourself?" Sarah asked. "You look so far away."
"Why, Mamma." Abe looked up with a start. "I was just recollecting someof the words out of the Declaration of Independence. It says all men arecreated equal."
"You don't mean to tell me!" Sarah was pleased because Abe was.
"I'm going to learn as much of the Declaration as I can by heart, beforeI take the book back," he said. "That way I can always keep the words."
"I declare," said Sarah, "you grow new ideas inside your head as fast asyou add inches on top of it."