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Roy Glashan's Library
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Amazing Stories, November 1943, with "The Johnny Rain-Maker"
As is usually the case, Johnny talked too much—and
then had to back up his words; he had to make it rain.
THE weekly meeting of the Indian Chiefs of East Falls was in full swing. Johnny Wilson, fully accredited as Big Chief at the age of ten had the floor. The Indian Chiefs had a darn swell cave, dug in a hill behind Johnny's back yard. It was covered by packing-box sides and had been examined by Johnny's father and pronounced safe.
Discussions had been going on heatedly for some time and the ten chiefs had lost some of their dignity in the process. First, there was the matter of who would be the Big Chief. Johnny Wilson, chosen partly because of politics, had taken his place by the entrance to the cave and proceeded to "lead."
A technical point had come up. Skeets Janson, Johnny's senior by three months, couldn't agree.
"Yaaaa! Just because your old man digs up rocks and stuff, you gotta be the Big Chief and we gotta believe anything you say."
Johnny owned a box of broken arrow-heads and bits of Indian bead necklaces. That had swung the election. The collection was donated by Johnny's father.
"Nuts," Johnny sneered. "Pop says the Indians could make rain an' everything. They had a lot of magic words and stuff. It was old business with them."
Skeets, in spite of his loud protest, had a lot of respect for Johnny's knowledge.
"Prove it; prove it," he started to chant in a high, sing-song voice. "Old Johnny Rain-Maker's gotta prove it."
The small circle of chiefs leaned forward eagerly. Johnny's face grew very red. His flat nose quivered angrily.
"All right, darn it." His words lacked conviction. "I'll go get some stuff and I'll make it rain."
An immediate silence pervaded the cave. Johnny couldn't make it rain. Still, his Pop knew more about Indians than anybody.
"I don't believe it," Skeets said, but in a more respectful voice. "It's a lot of—of baloney."
Johnny wrapped the ragged blanket around him with proper dignity and retreated from the cave. Once outside, he ran down the steep incline and through the wood-shed into the house. Mom wasn't in the kitchen and Johnny hurried upstairs. Pop's room was empty. He found the little stone frog in Pop's cabinet.
Pop said if you held the frog in your hand and said some magic words, it would start to rain anytime.
Pop oughta have known. He said it came from an Indian tribe in South America and they always got rain that way. Johnny hurried out of the house and back to the cave.
NINE very pale little boys sat in a quiet circle, waiting for him to return. Johnny held up the stone frog so they could take a good look. It was just a little thing, all gray and homely and it didn't look very powerful.
He placed it in the palm of his hand. His forehead was wet and the palms of his hands were sticky. He looked at Skeets, and everyone was very quiet. Skeets looked scared.
"Go—go ahead and use it," Skeets said. "I'll betcha a jack-knife it don't work."
Johnny was trying to remember the magic words Pop had hold him. If the Indians could make it rain, Johnny guessed he could. His voice was quavery and a little uncertain.
"Send soon, O frog, the jewel of water to ripen the grain and—and..."
He forgot the right word. It was a strange one that he didn't know very well. Something like mill. He started again.
"Send soon, O frog, the jewel of water to ripen the grain and millet in the fields."
The cave was deathly silent. Skeets stared out the door across the yard. The sun was shining brightly against the white boards of the house.
Skeets had a sick little grin his face.
"Come on, froggie!" He lifted his hands in the air. "Make it rain!"
"Whooosh!"
The storm hit the top of the cave with a roar. All of a sudden the sun was gone. Water came down in slanting white sheets. It washed the dirt from the boards and came through the roof of the cave. Johnny's mother dashed wildly into the back yard and started to pull her washing from the line.
The Indian Chiefs retreated hurriedly to the safety of the wood-shed. Ten frightened little boys stood inside the shed wondering what to do about Johnny's rain-storm. The rain was coming harder every minute. Skeets stared at Johnny, whose face was white as paper. He still held the stone frog in his shaking hand.
"You did it!" Skeets whispered. "You made it rain/!"
"Johnny Rain-Maker!" someone taunted. "Now we can't play baseball tomorrow."
Johnny gulped and said nothing. He was plenty scared. Instead of being proud, he was afraid. They'd have to stay inside until the storm was over. The championship game with the Tiger Cubs was off.
He looked around hopefully at his brother chiefs and saw only frowns. He retreated slowly to the house and put the stone frog back in Pop's room. By the time he reached his own bedroom window, it was darker than ever. One by one the Indian Chiefs ran down the drive toward home. Skeets stopped at the curb and, looking up at Johnny, thumbed his nose and stuck his tongue out.
IT RAINED all week. Tuesday, the Indian Chiefs were planning a hike. They were forced to stay inside and Johnny dropped another degree in their estimation. By Wednesday night. Johnny was miserable. He heard from Skinny Davis, by way of the back fence, that plans were made to drop him from the club. Pop was reading a big book about the Indians of Pueblo, or something. Johnny decided that, once and for all, he would find proof for or against his power to make rain.
He approached the subject carefully, making every attempt to hide his personal interest in magic. His father and he were alone in the living room and Johnny spoke from the warmth of the bear rug by the fireplace.
"Pop?"
Pop looked over the top of his book, not happy at being disturbed.
"What is it, Johnny?'
"Pop." Johnny squirmed uncomfortably. "Could Indians really bring rain when they wanted it?"
If his father was surprised at the growing intelligence of his offspring, he hid the fact behind a smile.
"Why, maybe—if they wanted it bad enough."
Johnny was silent for a long time.
"Pop," he said finally. "If I took that stone frog from your cabinet and made magic with it, would it rain?"
His father looked down sternly.
"You do, and I'll beat the pants off you."
This answer, although it didn't cover the question fully, put a stop to any further research work on Johnny's part. He went upstairs and sat by the bedroom window for a long time. The rain stopped late that night, and the next day Johnny felt a lot better.
HOWEVER, the Indian Chiefs weren't ready to forgive and forget. They couldn't overlook the injustice Johnny had done them in keeping them inside for the better part of a week. Besides that, they were a little frightened of him. Anyone who can make it rain for three days by reciting magic words, is a good guy to stay away from.
The weeks rolled along smoothly enough, although East Falls seemed to have had its full quota of rain for the summer. Johnny became more and more unpopular as the months went by.
Farmers were losing their crops because of the hot dry weather. The chiefs dared not tell their terrible secret to the public. There was a certain fear of retaliation from Johnny, if they did. Perhaps he had more magic secrets, like turning his enemies to stone.
Johnny Rain-Maker stayed close to home, sometimes sitting for hours before his Pop's cabinet where he could stare through the glass at the little stone frog. He wanted to try it again, just to make sure it worked. He didn't quite dare.
FINALLY the rain situation in East Falls grew desperate. The river was dry. The town wells were so low that water was put on honorary ration. Trucks brought drinking water from High Springs and it was sold in five gallon bottles. If rain didn't come soon, the farmers would leave their crops to burn in the fields.
The Indian Chiefs held a meeting in Skeet's barn. Johnny hadn't been welcome among them for two months. He had been properly ousted from the club and his effigy burned to destroy his power.
Skeets presided over the meeting and it was decided that something must be done about Johnny Rain-Maker at once. Skeets, a little frightened over the importance of the step, suggested that Johnny be summoned. He placed the all important phone call himself.
Mrs. Wilson, Johnny's mother, answered the first ring.
"Hello—Who? Oh, Skeets. Where have you been? Yes, Johnny's all right. Yes, you may speak to him if you wish. Why haven't you been around all summer?"
Finally Johnny was summoned. Skeets heard his voice on the wire, a little timid and frightened.
"Hiya, Big Chief Johnny?"
"All right, I guess. How you been, Skeets?"
"Fine," Skeets answered. "Say, Johnny, we got something 'portant to do. We want to make you Big Chief again. Can you come to a meeting tonight at seven, under the elm tree on the Jones farm?"
Johnny was wildly happy about the invitation.
"You bet," he said eagerly. "I'll be there right smack at seven."
Skeet's voice grew more secretive.
"Johnny, bring the stone frog with you."
Johnny Rain-Maker felt cold shivers playing up and down his back.
He turned around to make sure Mom wasn't listening.
"I can't take that again," he whispered.
Skeets was angry.
"You done it once," he said. "You gotta make it rain right away or we'll tell on you. Then you will be in the soup."
Right then it was more important than anything else that Johnny get his old friends back.
'Til—I'll be there," he said miserably.
"And you'll bring the frog?"
"I'll try," Johnny whispered, and hung up.
IT WAS almost seven o'clock. Pop was late getting home. Mom was sprinkling the garden with an old pail that had holes in the bottom. Johnny took the little stone frog from the case and held it in his hand. Just so he'd remember, he said the magic words over once, under his breath.
"Send soon, O frog, the jewel of water to ripen the grain and millet in the field."
He ran downstairs, climbed the back fence and hurried along the road toward the elm tree. It was only a little way, but once away from the house, Johnny couldn't stop running. He had almost reached the group of boys under the elm when a drop of rain hit his nose. Another bounced on his bare arm. He reached the tree and little spatters of dust were springing from the dry earth where the rain drops landed.
He didn't realize how important those rain drops were until he saw the tense, excited looks on the faces around him. The chiefs were staring at him in surprise.
"It's raining already," Skeets said breathlessly. "I didn't even need a charm. It up and rained without Johnny and his frog."
The water was beating against the earth in ever-increasing volume. It spilled down as though the clouds had been saving a whole summer's supply. Water soaked through the foliage of the elm and dripped on the boys. New and ever increasing respect was growing in them for Johnny Rain-Maker.
The Indian Chiefs knew they hadn't wanted Johnny to produce rain. They had been frightened of him when they thought he could produce magic. Now he wasn't magic at all. He was just like the rest of them.
Skeets, with water running off his nose, shook Johnny's hand solemnly.
"We blamed it on you," he said. "And all the time the charm didn't have a thing to do with the rain. I guess we can prove it now. The rain sure started all by itself this time."
"Let's make Johnny the Big Chief again," someone offered.
Skeets lifted a stiff arm toward the rain-drenched sky.
"We hereby take away the name of Johnny Rain-Maker and make you Big Chief again."
"Thanks." Johnny said. He had a crazy, choking feeling in his throat. "I'll try to make a good chief."
He looked down at the little stone frog, partly hidden in his hand. He remembered saying the charm all the way through, just before he left home. Johnny hoped it had all been a mistake. Hoped the frog didn't have a thing to do with it. Still, he had said the magic words twice and it had rained twice. And harder than he had ever seen it rain before.
Maybe he'd better keep the frog hidden in his bedroom, in case East Falls ever needed a big storm again sometime. It might work. Johnny couldn't be sure. Not quite sure.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
Go to Home Page
This work is out of copyright in countries with a copyright
period of 70 years or less, after the year of the author's death.
If it is under copyright in your country of residence,
do not download or redistribute this file.
Original content added by RGL (e.g., introductions, notes,
RGL covers) is proprietary and protected by copyright.