Again and again the teacher made them read the lines, but each time some one would either lag behind or read faster than the others. While this was going on I was busy with my spelling lesson, as my class came after the one now hard at work with the boy "on the burning deck." There was a click; I raised my eyes and looked toward the door; it slowly opened, then a tall man and a boy silently entered. I recognized them at once; the man was a friend of my father and the lad one of my playmates on my weekly visits home. The class on the floor was dismissed with a lecture on reading, and Gray-beard turned to call, "Next class," when he discovered the man and boy sitting on a bench near the door. "How do you do, Wa-hon'-e-ga?" said Gray-beard, approaching the Indian with outstretched hand. "Ka-gae'-ha!" (Friend) responded the Indian, his face brightening. Then in a low tone he called me to him and said, "I have brought your grandfather here to stay with you. Be as good to each other as you have always been, and try to learn the language of the White-chests." The boy was a distant relative, and, following the peculiar system of kinship among the Indians, there was no impropriety in my addressing him as my grandfather, although we preferred to call each other friend. "What does Wa-hon'-e-ga want?" asked Gray-beard, putting his hand on my shoulder. "My friend," replied the Indian, looking with a kindly smile into the face of the teacher, "my wife wishes her son, this boy, to learn to speak the language of the Big-knives, [English] so I have come with him. We have brought him up with great care, and I think he will give you no trouble." "Tell him," said Gray-beard, "I am very glad he has brought the boy, and we will do our best for him." The Indian turned and with silent dignity left the room. "Now, children," said Gray-beard, taking out the school register and looking at us, "we have a new boy here, and we must select a good name for him; what have you to suggest?" We promptly called him Edwin M. Stanton, and he was registered by that name. Brush and I were detailed to take Edwin to the store-room and fit him with a new suit of clothes. When he was dressed; we tied up his fine Indian costume in a neat bundle to be returned to his father. At the supper-table Edwin and I sat together. I showed him how to bow his head when the blessing was asked, and to turn his plate. He silently followed my whispered instructions, and was very quiet while supper was going on, but during the religious exercises which followed, when we dropped on our knees, he became very anxious to know why we did so. He shuffled a good deal in his position, and after a while stood up and looked around. I pulled him down, and he demanded out loud, "What are we hiding for? This is the way we do when we are hiding in the grass."