Brush thought he had put the price of the rabbit so high that it would not be accepted; but as we could not back out of our agreement, we were obliged to part with our ghost rabbit for eighty-five cakes.
As the number of the gang purchasing the rabbit was the same as ours, for seventeen Sundays these five boys went without their cakes, while each one of us enjoyed a double share.
IX
William T. Sherman
He stood on the third board of the fence from the ground, and leaned with his elbows on the top one, now and again kicking with his moccasined foot a loose panel. How long he had been standing there rattling that loose board no one knew, but in time one of the boys noticed him, and suddenly he became an object of the greatest interest among the boys of all sizes at the school. Boys who were playing down by the river, up by the spring, and over by the saw mill came running to see the stranger; and how the word reached them was as much of a mystery as the appearance of the little figure on the fence.
Everyone was eager to pelt him with a question, and get as close to him as possible. He answered the questions in monosyllables; but he showed objection to any near approach, by freeing his bare arms from his little buffalo robe and pointing a wooden popgun at the eye of the boy who was inclined to be too familiar. We kept at him until we found out that his name was Thinʻ-je-zhin-ga, which, translated into the language of the Missionaries, signified Little Tail.7
He had come over from the village to see the school, and was as much interested in us as we were in him. All at once something attracted his attention; his black eyes sparkled, out came one arm from under his robe, and he pointed with a very dirty little finger and said, “Give me one of those!”
The coveted object was a brass button on the jacket of one of the small students. When Little Tail was asked what he wanted to do with it, he said, “Tie it to my scalp-lock.” This sounded very funny to us, and we all laughed. The little chap retreated into his robe, covered his head, and looked out at us with one eye.
The bell rang for dinner; and there followed a general scramble to appear promptly at the table, and no thought was given to the queer little visitor. Being the last boy to enter the house, I turned to look back at him, and there he stood perched upon the fence, staring after us as though he wondered why he was so suddenly deserted.
When we came out from dinner, he was still on the fence, but he was busy. He had an ear of roasted corn and was shelling the kernels; when he had nearly a handful he tipped his head back, poured the grains into his mouth, and ate them with relish. After he had stripped half of the cob, he seemed to be satisfied, and the remainder disappeared in the recesses of his robe. As he finished his corn dinner, one of the schoolboys said to him, “Little Tail, how would you like to stay and live with us here?”
“I would like it,” he promptly replied.
“Will you stay?”
“Yes.”
It was soon reported to the superintendent that a new pupil had come. When the afternoon session opened and the pupils were seated, Little Tail was given a seat at one of the desks, but to our delight he slid down and sat on the floor. The teacher rapped the top of his desk with a ruler and cried, “Silence!” and order was restored.
“What is the name of the new boy?” he asked.
“Thinʻ-je-zhin-ga,” answered one of the boys.
Graybeard tried to repeat the name, but only set the whole school laughing. While this was going on, Little Tail reached down to his belt and drew out a roll of milkweed fibre. It was his ammunition. He tore off enough to make a bullet, chewed it, and, bringing the breach of the popgun to his mouth, inserted the ball, twisting the gun with his hands while he pressed the wad in with his teeth, making many motions with his head. By pounding the butt of the rammer on the floor, he drove the ball to the firing point; then raising the gun he began forcing the ball with vigorous thrusts, aiming it at a mischievous boy who sat opposite making faces at him. Bang! went the weapon; the bullet, instead of hitting the object aimed at, struck Graybeard in the face, and made him throw his head back. We covered our faces to suppress the giggles that bubbled up at this mishap. The wounded man looked sharply at the young artillerist, who, seeing the mischief he had done, very slyly thrust his gun into his robe, and, keeping an eye on his victim, sat perfectly still.
The teacher looked serious, then we became scared. After a moment his face relaxed, and he said in a pleasant tone, “We must have the name of the new boy on the Register, but we cannot have any name that is unpronounceable. We shall have to give him an English name. Will you suggest one?”
A number of hands went up and as many historic names were offered and rejected. Finally it was determined to call him William T. Sherman and that name was entered upon the Register.
After school a few boys were detailed to wash and dress the new arrival; so, with arms full of clothing, towels, and other bathing appliances, the lad was taken up to the boys’ dormitory. The first thing to be done was to cut his long hair. A towel was put around his neck, and soon the shears were singing a
