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 Horace, not very respectfully, as he ran back, shoe-knife in hand, to cut the watermelon. This was the beginning of a hasty friendship between himself and Wampum. For a few days there was nothing so charming to Horace as the wild life of this Indian family. He was made welcome at their tent, and often went in to see them make baskets. "I trust you," said Mrs. Clifford; "you will not deceive me, Horace. If you ever find that little Wampum says bad words, tells falsehoods, or steals, I shall not be willing for you to play with him. You are very young, and might be greatly injured by a bad playmate."