ng potatoes, thinking, "If I
ask, then I shan't get marked in the blue book anyhow."

In this case Horace acted very properly. He had no right to cut the
trees, or allow any one else to cut them, without leave. To his great
delight, his grandfather said he did not care if they clipped off a few
branches where they would not show much.

When Horace got back and reported the words of his grandfather, Wampum
did not even smile, but shot a glance at him as keen as an arrow.

"Me no hurt trees," said he, gravely; and he did not: he only cut off a
few limbs from each one, leaving the trees as handsome as ever.

"Bully for you!" cried Horace, forgetting the blue book.

"He's as spry as a squirrel," said Grasshopper, in admiration; "how many
boughs has he got? One, two, three."

"Me say 'em quickest," cried little Wampum. "Een, teen, teddery,
peddery, bimp, satter, latter, doe, dommy, dick."

"That's ten," put in Horace, who was keeping 'count.

"Een-dick," continued the little Indian, "teen-dick, teddery-dick,
peddery-dick, bumpin, een-bumpin, teen-bumpin, teddery-bumpin,
peddery-bumpin, jiggets."

"Hollo!" cried Grasshopper; "that's twenty; jiggets is twenty;" and he
rolled over on the ground, laughing as if he had made a great discovery.

Little by little they made Wampum tell how he lived at home, what sort
of boys he played with, and what they had to eat. The young Indian
assured them that at Oldtown "he lived in a house good as white folks;
he ate moose-meat, ate sheep-meat, ate cow-meat."

"Cook out doors, I s'pose," said Grasshopper.

Wampum looked very severe. "When me lives in wigwam, me has fires in
wigwam: when me lives in tent, me puts fires on grass;--keep off them
things," he added, pointing at a mosquito in the air; "keep smoke out
tent," pointing upward to show the motion of the smoke.

Horace felt so much pleased with his new companion, that he resolved to
treat him to a watermelon. So, without saying a word to the boys, he ran
into the house to ask his grandmother.

"What! a whole watermelon, Horace?"

"Yes, grandma, we three; me, and Grasshopper, and Wampum."

Mrs. Parlin could not help smiling to see how suddenly Horace had
adopted a new friend.

"You may have a melon, but I think your mother would not like to have
you play much with a strange boy."

"He's going to make me a splendid basket; and besides, aren't Indians
and negroes as good as white folks? 'Specially _tame_ Indians," said