"Woo-hoo! Noo'-zhin-ga pa'-hon ba ma kae don'-ba i ga!" (Oh! boys, get up and look at the snow!) exclaimed a new student, ignorant of the rule against speaking Indian.

We scrambled out of bed and rushed to the windows. Sure enough, there was snow on the ground, and the trees that the frost had stripped of their verdant beauty now stood resplendent in a mantle of white.

Summer had gone. The myriads of little creatures that only a short time ago enlivened the hills and valleys had withdrawn into the recesses of the earth, or other places of safety, each according to its own peculiar habit.

Winter had come. And the school-boy, defying its chilling blasts, dances about in the crisp snow, or on the ice, shouting to his playmates. Delighting in the exercise of every muscle, he races to the hill-top, blows his hot breath on his tingling finger-tips, mounts his little sled, then dashes down the hill with merry shouts of laughter, though the snow whirls and flies about his ears and beaming face. Again and again he takes this wild descent until he hears the calling of the school-bell; then, with reluctant feet, he enters the class-room, to study the divisions of the earth either by natural boundaries, or by the artificial ones made by aggressive man, to learn about weights and measures, or to memorize the great events that have changed the conditions of nations and of peoples.

Every one was up and dressed that morning when Gray-beard came to the dormitory; and, after repeating our prayer, we hurried down the two flights of stairs, making a noise like thunder. We ran into the yard, where we wrestled for a while, then rubbed our faces and hands with snow.

One of the teachers asked why the boys did so. "All boys do that," answered Brush. "The old folks tell them to do it, because then their faces and hands won't get frozen."

When breakfast was over that morning, and the students had shifted their positions so as to face the centre of the dining-room, and had folded their arms, the superintendent, marking with his forefinger the chapter he had selected to read at the morning worship, looked up and spoke, "We want the boys to learn the use of tools, and to make things for themselves, so we have provided the boards out of which every boy in this school can make a sled for himself. The carpenter will give to any boy who asks, the materials and show him how to use the tools to make his sled. Of course this must be done before the school hour."

We looked at each other and smiled. The reading of the Scripture and the prayer seemed to us to be unusually long, but at last they came to an end. Then every boy hurried and scurried to the carpenter's shop. Soon dozens of hammers were going crack, crack, and the saws zip, zip.

"Be careful, boys! Look out for nails, or you will ruin your saws," said the carpenter, and he smiled good-naturedly as he went on marking the boards for the next applicant.

Suddenly, in the midst of all the din some one exclaimed, "Hong!" which is Indian for Ouch! and a big boy danced about, shaking his hand violently in the air, then he brought it down and pressed it between his knees, twisting his body into all sorts of shapes, howling the while. The hammering and sawing ceased, and a dozen voices asked, "What's the matter?" Peter, who was always clumsy in his movements, instead of hitting the nail he was driving, had struck his thumb and smashed it. The traditional "Indian stoicism" was not in him, so he kept up his howling until the carpenter had put on a tobacco poultice and bandaged the injured thumb.

After a lively coasting on our new sleds one afternoon, we were gathered in the school-room, and every one was busy preparing lessons. The arithmetic class was before the blackboard, answering questions put by the teacher.

"Ulysses Grant," said Gray-beard, "suppose the boards, nails, and work upon your sled cost you fifty-five cents, and you sold it to Edwin Stanton for sixty-three cents, what would be your profit?"

Ulysses moved uneasily, then began counting rapidly with his fingers.

"Stop counting your fingers. Do the sum with your head," said Gray-beard.

Just at this moment something like a shadow appeared at one of the windows, and all faces, except Gray-beard's, turned in that direction. We soon made out that the shadow was the face of an Indian boy with his buffalo robe drawn over his head and spread against the glass to exclude the glare of the sun, so as to give him a better view within the room. His black eyes peered at us, and at every object within sight. The figure withdrew; then we heard a voice speaking in our own language, "Come quick! Come and look at them!"

Soon the windows were darkened by dozens of the queerest-looking heads we had ever seen. Over each face hung two long braids. As the boys pressed their noses against the glass, and wrinkled their brows in trying to see, they made the strangest and most comical of pictures. They pushed and climbed over each other in their eagerness to observe what was going on inside. We could not help laughing at their appearance.

Edwin nudged me and whispered, "They're Ponka boys; they wear their scalp-locks in front, and they always have two."

"Don't they look funny?" shouted a Ponka boy at the middle window. "See, see that one!" and he pointed at Warren; "he looks just like a little owl; his hair stands straight up, and he has such big eyes."

Study became impossible, and the class in arithmetic made horrible blunders. Gray-beard was disgusted; in vain he rapped the desk with his ruler; and his patience found a limit when Andrew Johnson said that Ulysses' profit would be eleven cents, if he sold his sled for sixty-three cents. He gave the boy a vigorous shaking. This act of discipline delighted the little savages at the window; they shouted with laughter and the ends of their little braids fluttered with the breath of every peal. They interspersed their merriment with comments on our appearance, our clothing, and the absence of scalp-locks on our heads.

"What are they saying?" asked Gray-beard, looking toward the windows.

"They're calling us names," answered Warren, who felt sore at being compared to an owl.

Gray-beard went to the door; as he opened it, the intruders ran swiftly to the fence, and sat astride of the top board.

"Get away from here!" said Gray-beard, in a loud voice. "Go home!"

"How do do! Goo-by!" shouted back some of the little rascals with boisterous jeers.

"Class in history," called Gray-beard as he closed the door; and a number of us stood in line at the usual place.

"Philip Sheridan, can you tell me something of George Washington?"

All eyes turned toward the youngster who answered to the name of George Washington, and who, neglecting his lessons, was now busy drawing on his slate a caricature of a boy against whom he had a grudge. Hearing his name, and thinking he had been caught in his mischief, he looked up with a startled expression, and rose to make a denial, when Sheridan, fixing his eyes upon him, slowly answered, "He chopped his father's choke-cherry-tree."

The little savages returned to the windows, and began chattering noisily. Suddenly a number of them stood in line, imitating the history class, while one of the big boys took a place before them, mimicking the actions of Gray-beard and the tones of his voice, by giving the peculiar rhythm of English to his own Indian words.

"Ah'-bru-zhe-dae!" he asked; "do you ever wash your face?" And the make-believe class went into fits of laughter.

"Ten sleeps ago," angrily retorted the boy addressed, "you stole some honey, and the smirches of it are still on your face!"

The boys were convulsed at this reply, and so were the boys in the school-room; but the mock teacher took a different view of the matter, and sprang at his impudent pupil, boxing his ears, whereat the two fell on each other in a lively tussle. We stretched our necks to see the struggle, and Gray-beard also watched the scene.

All at once a Ponka boy shouted, "I've found something! Come, come!" and the crowd moved away, leaving the two to finish their wrestling.

Before long we heard a great clatter in the hall-way, 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 hill-side ceased, and Warren leaned over to Brush and whispered, "They're going off with our sleds!"

Brush raised his right hand; Gray-beard 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 school-boys 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 wild-cat 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. Some one shouted, "They're running! they're running!" and the boys we were fighting broke loose. Then all of us school-boys 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.