Before long we heard a great clatter in the hallway, and then the Ponka boys were seen marching out of the yard with our sleds. We heard them coasting down the hill, and this made us very restless, so that we could not pay any attention to our lessons. By and by the shouting on the hillside ceased, and Warren leaned over to Brush and whispered, “They’re going off with our sleds!”
Brush raised his right hand; Graybeard saw him, and asked what he wanted.
“Those Indian boys are going away with our sleds, and we want to go after them.”
Permission being given, in a twinkling there were twenty or thirty schoolboys charging up the hill, all mad as hornets. We overtook the Ponkas midway between the school and the village. The little savages turned and came to meet us.
“What do you want?” said the big boy who had played teacher.
“We want our sleds,” said Brush.
“Come and get them!” was the defiant answer of the Ponka boys.
“That we will do!” answered Brush.
We all moved forward, and then followed a scene hard to describe. A terrific battle took place between us and the robbers; it was hand to hand, and shin to shin, for hands and feet were the only weapons used.
The Ponkas made a determined resistance. I cannot very well relate what happened around me; for I was engaged in a lively bout with an impish-looking little chap for whom I had taken a sudden and unreasonable spite. It was hard to get at him, for he was quick as a wildcat in his movements, and he gave me a number of vicious blows before I could touch him. I noticed that he was more afraid of my brogans than of my fists; taking advantage of this, I pretended to lift my foot for a fierce kick; he hopped backwards, and, in so doing, bent his body toward me. Quick as a flash, I grasped his two braids, pulled his head down, and brought my right knee up against it with tremendous force, and he went sprawling in the snow.
“Frank, Frank, come here, quick!” It was Brush calling. I turned, and there he lay under two of the Ponkas, who were dealing him heavy blows. In a second I had dragged one of them off, and Brush had his footing again. Someone shouted, “They’re running! they’re running!” and the boys we were fighting broke loose. Then all of us schoolboys chased the Ponkas, and drove them into their camp.
We were a bruised lot when we came back to the school; but we had our sleds.
XIII
The Secret of the Big Seven
The small boys had been marched to bed at eight o’clock. We, the Middle Five, who, for the first time, were permitted to stay up until ten—a privilege hitherto enjoyed only by the Big Seven—sat around the fire listening to Indian tales told by Edwin in his animated way. There was no light in the room save that which came through the open door of the stove, in front of which the storyteller had taken his place. The flickering fire cast a ruddy light upon the fine features of the boy, and the shadows on the wall danced to the caprice of the restless flames. We laughed heartily at the mishaps of Ish-teʻ-ne-ke, a comical character that figures in the folktales of the Omahas, as they were vividly portrayed in language and gesture.
Outside the wind was moaning and sighing through the trees around the house, at times rattling the windows vigorously, as though threatening to rush in upon us; and from the neighborhood of the graveyard came the mournful sounds of the hooting owl.
In the back part of the schoolroom, where it was dark, sat the Big Seven, carrying on an earnest conversation in low tones, as though to exclude us from their confidence.
The leader of this gang was a youth of peculiar appearance and manner. He was tall and muscular, with prominent nose and cheekbones. Although he took an active part in the amusements and sports of the school, often inaugurating them himself, we never knew him to change the expression of his face, either in pain, anger, or mirth. We five often had talks about the peculiarities of this singular youth. Brush said that “Aleck” (the boys addressed him by this name, for he was called after the Macedonian conqueror) was turned outside in, that all his laugh, anger, and sorrow were inside and couldn’t be seen. Edwin declared that the boy had ceased laughing since the killing of his father by the Sioux, and that he was reserving his laugh for the time when he should take revenge.
The mysterious consultation in the back part of the schoolroom came to an end, and one by one the Big Seven approached the stove and mingled with us. Aleck, who was the last, did not sit down in the space left for him, but drew up a desk and perched on one end of it, resting his feet on the bench where he should have sat. He leaned over, supporting his body with his elbow on his knee, and shaded his eyes with his hand. We could feel that for some purpose he was looking into the faces of the Middle Five.
As the Seven took their places among us, Edwin brought his story to a close, and we fell into silence. After a few moments Aleck cleared his throat, and, without change of attitude, said in the Omaha language, fearlessly breaking one of the rules of the school:
“Boys, to you of the Five I speak. There is not a gang in the school that has not its secrets. You of the Five have yours, no doubt; we of the Seven, who now sit with you, have ours. We respect yours, and we have every confidence that you respect ours. Ordinarily we do not interfere with each other’s affairs; but now that you have the
