"I will; but don't keep her running over here all the time," and she started to go. She had not gone very far when she turned and shouted to me, "Wash your foot to-morrow morning and turn the bandage over. You will be well in a day or two." A boy passing by cried out, "Bell has rung!" and I limped into the school-room to attend the afternoon session. When school was out, Lester suggested that we go on the hill to sit and talk. Turning to me, he asked if I could walk as far as that; I assured him that I could, so I hobbled along with the boys up the hill. We found a beautiful grassy spot, and three of us--Lester, Warren, and I--lay down and looked up into the deep blue sky. Brush sat near by, carving a horse's head out of a piece of oak. Clouds lazily floated far above. "Say, Lester," I called, "you take that one that looks like a buffalo; Warren, you take that one that is shaped like a bear; and I will take this one that's like a man smoking a pipe. Now, let's rub them out!" So, fixing our eyes upon the clouds, we began rubbing the palms of our hands together. "Mine is getting smaller, right away, now!" cried Warren. "Mine too!" echoed Lester. Brush gave us a look of disgust, and said, "Boys, I think you are the biggest fools I ever saw,--rubbing out clouds, the idea!" But we rubbed away, and paid no attention to the contemptuous glances our friend gave us. My hands began to come down lower and lower; and then I felt myself rising from the ground, higher and higher I went, just like a big bird, and suddenly landed on a heavy black cloud. I looked down; there were the boys still rubbing away, and Brush still carving. I could see the winding river far below and the birds flitting about. I wondered what it all meant. I felt the cloud moving away with me; the boys were growing smaller and smaller, and I noticed that I was passing over the Indian village. Where is the cloud going with me, and will it ever stop? I heard a sound that seemed familiar to me,--is it a bell? Could there be bells in the cloud? I asked myself. "Wake up, you fools! Supper-bell has rung! Rubbing out clouds, were you!" said Brush, in derisive tones. Warren sat up, blinking his eyes, and asked, "Where are we?" That night, when the boys had settled down in their beds and Gray-beard had gone downstairs, Edwin asked, "Boys, where've you been this afternoon? You came to supper late; Gray-beard looked hard at you." "We've been up the hill," I answered; "I told the boys to hurry along and leave me; but they wouldn't." "Who was that Indian woman talking to you before dinner-time?" "That was my aunt; she saw me when she was going by, and she made me sit down and she looked at my foot. She took a great big splinter out of my toe. My! it hurt." "You're going to get well now. Why didn't you put that splinter in some buffalo hair, then 't would've turned into a baby." "Nonsense!" said Brush, "who ever heard of such a thing." "There's a story like that," replied Edwin.