"Class in history," called Gray-beard as he closed the door; and a number of us stood in line at the usual place. "Philip Sheridan, can you tell me something of George Washington?" All eyes turned toward the youngster who answered to the name of George Washington, and who, neglecting his lessons, was now busy drawing on his slate a caricature of a boy against whom he had a grudge. Hearing his name, and thinking he had been caught in his mischief, he looked up with a startled expression, and rose to make a denial, when Sheridan, fixing his eyes upon him, slowly answered, "He chopped his father's choke-cherry-tree." The little savages returned to the windows, and began chattering noisily. Suddenly a number of them stood in line, imitating the history class, while one of the big boys took a place before them, mimicking the actions of Gray-beard and the tones of his voice, by giving the peculiar rhythm of English to his own Indian words. "Ah'-bru-zhe-dae!" he asked; "do you ever wash your face?" And the make-believe class went into fits of laughter. "Ten sleeps ago," angrily retorted the boy addressed, "you stole some honey, and the smirches of it are still on _your_ face!" The boys were convulsed at this reply, and so were the boys in the school-room; but the mock teacher took a different view of the matter, and sprang at his impudent pupil, boxing his ears, whereat the two fell on each other in a lively tussle. We stretched our necks to see the struggle, and Gray-beard also watched the scene. All at once a Ponka boy shouted, "I've found something! Come, come!" and the crowd moved away, leaving the two to finish their wrestling. Before long we heard a great clatter in the hall-way, and then the Ponka boys were seen marching out of the yard with our sleds. We heard them coasting down the hill, and this made us very restless, so that we could not pay any attention to our lessons. By and by the shouting on the hill-side ceased, and Warren leaned over to Brush and whispered, "They're going off with our sleds!" Brush raised his right hand; Gray-beard saw him, and asked what he wanted. "Those Indian boys are going away with our sleds, and we want to go after them." Permission being given, in a twinkling there were twenty or thirty school-boys charging up the hill, all mad as hornets. We overtook the Ponkas midway between the school and the village. The little savages turned and came to meet us. "What do you want?" said the big boy who had played teacher. "We want our sleds," said Brush. "Come and get them!" was the defiant answer of the Ponka boys. "That we will do!" answered Brush. We all moved forward, and then followed a scene hard to describe. A terrific battle took place between us and the robbers; it was hand to hand, and shin to shin, for hands and feet were the only weapons used.