which makes a complete turn on its axis every day. Like this.â She spun the globe. The boys looked at one another and smiled. Everyone knew the earth was flat and had four comers, and it didnât turn. And she thought it was round and spinning all the time. That was amusing. Wasicuns were silly.
âIt canât be like she says,â Julian said after school. âIf the earth turned upside down every night, everyone would fall off and there wouldnât be anybody left. Flies can walk upside down. People arenât flies.â
âHau,â the others said. Billy was sure they were right.
In the Moon of Frost on the Tipi, the teacher brought a white-haired man in a dark suit and shiny black shoes to class. âHeâs an astronomer,â she explained. âHe studies the stars through a telescope, and he has something to tell you.â
The man cleared his throat. âA most interesting celestial phenomenon will transpire next Wednesday night at nine-thirty,â he said. Billy and the others stared at him with puzzled expressions. âExcuse me. I forgot youâre Indians. What I mean is that the earth will pass between the sun and the moon. The earthâs shadow will cover the moon briefly, cutting off its light. Itâs called a lunar eclipse.â The boys smiled. The funny looking Wasicun couldnât know what he was talking about.
The night of the eclipse was clear, and the children stood on the grass outside the buildings after lights out and gazed at the full moon. Billy wondered how long they would have to wait in the cold before they knew nothing would happen. But when the earthâs shadow began crossing the moon, he clapped hand to mouth in surprise. All watched awestruck as the moonâs light was gradually blotted out. Billy expected the older boys to sing brave songs, but no one made a sound. When the moon began to emerge from the earthâs shadow, however, the younger children chattered gleefully and pointed their fingers. The moon had died and come to life again! Billy exhaled deeply. From now on Iâll believe what the teacher tells us. The earth is round, not flat. Somehow people donât fall off. He couldnât imagine how the astronomer knew there would be an eclipse at exactly the time he said. Either it was magic or white people know a lot of strange things.
In the Moon of Ripe Berries, which the whites called June, the first school year ended, and Pratt planned a big celebration. Spotted Tail, Two Strike, Black Crow, and two other Brulé headmen, dressed in their finest buckskin shirts and leggings, stopped at Carlisle on their way to Washington. From Pine Ridge Agency came Red Cloud and several other Oglala chiefs in their finery to take part in the ceremonies. There were also a number of well-dressed white ladies and a man with a camera. Captain Pratt was the center of attention, and he kept the chiefs around him, giving them no opportunity to talk to their sons. Billy couldnât tell from their solemn faces what they thought of the school.
The chiefs were nearly ready to depart for Washington when Spotted Tail demanded to see his sons. âCan you talk like Wasicuns?â he asked as Billy listened.
âOnly a little bit,â William answered, rubbing the scar on his nose, âbut theyâve given us all Wasicun names and they make us go to church on Sundays.â Spotted Tail frowned.
âIf youâre not learning to speak, what are you learning?â
âTo make harness for horses.â Spotted Tailâs face turned black, like he was strangling.
âMake what?â He was almost shouting.
âHarness for work horses,â William said, hanging his head.
âWhy?â
âThereâs a man they call the disciplinarian. If we donât do what they say, he beats us with a leather strap. We hate it here. Take us home.â
His younger brothers echoed his plea. âYes, yes. Take us