“But, you see, there aren’t any squaws around,” said Franklin, smiling. “If you’ll tell me just how the Indians do it I’ll try to see how good a job I can make of it.”
Curly shifted his leg in his saddle and his cud in his mouth, and pushing his hat back on his forehead, assumed the position of superintendent.
“Well, it’ll take you a long time,” said he, “but I ’low it ain’t no use tellin’ you not to begin, fer you’ll just spile a good hide anyhow. First thing you do, you stretch yer hide out on the ground, fur side down, and hold it there with about six hundred pegs stuck down around the edges. It’ll take you a week to do that. Then you take a knife and scrape all the meat off the hide. That sounds easy, but it’ll take about another week. Then you git you a little hoe, made out of a piece of steel, and you dig, and dig, and dig at that hide till you git some more meat off, and begin to shave it down, thin like. You got to git all the grease out of it, an’ you got to make all the horny places soft. Time you git it dug down right it’ll take you about a year, I reckon, and then you ain’t done. You got to git brains—buffalo brains is best—and smear all over it, and let ’em dry in. Then you got to take your hide up and rub it till it’s plum soft. That’ll take you a couple of weeks, I reckon. Then you kin smoke it, if you have got any place to smoke it, an’ that’ll take you a week, it you don’t burn it up. Sometimes you kin whiten a hide by rubbin’ it with white clay, if you can git any clay. That might take you a few days longer. Oh, yes, I reckon you kin git the hide tanned if you live long enough. You’d ought to put up a sign, ‘Captain Franklin, Attorney at Law, an’ Hide Tanner.’”
Franklin laughed heartily at Curly’s sarcasm. “There’s one thing sure, Curly,” said he; “if I ever get this thing done I shall have to do the work myself, for no one ever knew you to do any work but ride a horse. Now, I think I can tan this hide, and do it in less than a year, and in less than a week, too. I can peg it out, and I can make me the iron hoe, and I can soften the hide with brains, and I can rub it until it is finished. I have, or can get, about all the ingredients you mention except the clay. If I had some white pipe clay I believe I could really make me a beautiful robe for a counterpane for my bed next winter.”
“If it’s only clay you want,” said Curly lazily, “I can git you plenty of that.”
“Where?” said Franklin.
“Over in a little holler, to the crick back o’ town,” said Curly. “You go on an’ tack out your hide, an’ I’ll ride over and git you some.”
“How’ll you carry it,” said Franklin, “if you go on horseback?”