The tent was rude enough. In one corner were skins laid one over another: these were the beds which were spread out at night for the family. Instead of closets and presses, all the wearing apparel was hung on a long rope, which was stretched from stake to stake, in various directions, like a clothes-line. It was curious to watch the brown fingers moving so easily over the white strips, out of which they wove baskets. It was such pretty work! it brought so much money. Horace thought it was just the business for him, and Wampum promised to teach him. In return for this favor, Horace was to instruct the little Indian in spelling. For one or two evenings he appointed meetings in the summer-house, and really went without his own slice of cake, that he might give it to poor Wampum, after a lesson in "baker." He received the basket in due time, a beautiful one--red, white, and blue. Just as he was carrying it home on his arm, he met Billy Green, the hostler, who stopped him, and asked if he remembered going into "the Pines" one day with Peter Grant? Horace had no reason to forget it, surely. "Seems to me you ran away with my horse-basket," said Billy; "but I never knew till yesterday what had 'come of it." "There, now," replied Horace, quite crestfallen; "Peter Grant took that! I forgot all about it." What should be done? It would never do to ask his mother for the money, since, as he believed, she had none to spare. Billy was fond of joking with little boys. "Look here, my fine fellow," said he, "give us that painted concern you've got on your arm, and we'll call it square." "No, no, Billy," cried Horace, drawing away; "this is a present, and I couldn't. But I'm learning to weave baskets, and I'll make you one--see if I don't!" Billy laughed, and went away whistling. He had no idea that Horace would ever think of the matter again; but in truth the first article the boy tried to make was a horse-basket. "Me tell you somethin," said little Wampum, next morning, as he and Horace were crossing the field together. "Very much me want um,--um,--um,"--putting his fingers up to his mouth in a manner which signified that he meant something to eat. "Don't understand," said Horace: "say it in English." "Very much me want um," continued Wampum, in a beseeching tone. "No tell what you call um. E'enamost water, no _quite_ water; e'enamost punkin, no _quite_ punkin." "Poh! you mean watermelon," laughed Horace: "should think you'd remember that as easy as pumpkin." "Very much me want um," repeated Wampum, delighted at being understood; "me like um." "Well," replied Horace, "they aren't mine." "O, yes. Ugh! you've got 'em. Melon-water good! Me have melon-waters, me give you moc-suns." "I'll ask my grandpa, Wampum." Hereupon the crafty little Indian shook his head. "You ask ole man, me no give you moc-suns! Me no want _een_--me want bimp--bumpin--jiggets."