Brush threw his book down, raised himself on his elbow and looked at us with a smile; then he said, "I know that book William T. Sherman saw, it's the book Gray-beard counts the days by, and it's got on it what they call advertisement. That bank wants people to know it has one million dollars capital to go by; I learned that in my arithmetic. Gray-beard isn't a lord; he's a missionary,--the same kind that goes to Africa and Greenland's icy mountains." FOOTNOTE: [1] He belonged to a band in the Omaha tribe known as Mon'-thin-ka-ga-hae, people of the underground world; in other words, animals that burrowed and lived in the earth; such had small tails, and the name Little Tail referred to this peculiarity. Chapter X A Runaway Vacation had come, and the Indians were about to start on their annual summer buffalo hunt. Some of the scholars were to accompany their parents, and others, after a brief home visit, were to return to the school and continue their studies while the tribe was away. In the three villages there was great hurry and bustle in every family. Pack saddles were brought out of the caches where they had lain through the winter. The task of mending them fell to the older people of the household, while the younger folk busied themselves in retrimming their more ornate trappings. Goods not necessary for the journey were stored away, and the dwellings were made ready for the long absence. At last there remained but one day before the time set for the departure of the tribe. In the afternoon I bade my parents good-by, and reluctantly returned to the school. Quite a number of the boys and girls had already come back, among them Lester and Warren. Brush had not left the school, so on my arrival I received from the three boys the usual greetings we accorded each other when one returned after an absence. We four paced the long front porch, arm in arm, for a while, and then went and sat down in the shade of a tree. "Where is Edwin?" asked Brush; "isn't he coming back?" "No," I replied; "his mother wanted him to; but his father didn't want to leave him behind, so he's going on the hunt." "He'll have lots of fun," said Warren; "I wish I could go!" The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Brush borrowed the superintendent's spy-glass, and we went to a high point whence we could watch the movements of the people in the village nearest the school. We took turns in looking through the glass. Already the head of the great caravan had gone behind the first hill, but my family had not yet started. We looked toward Edwin's house, and saw that the people were just moving. It was a wonderful sight to us, the long procession on the winding trail, like a great serpent of varied and brilliant colors. At last I saw my father mount a horse and move forward, the rest of the family followed him, and I watched them until they finally disappeared beyond the green hills. It was nearly noon when the end of the line went out of sight.