"Don't cry, mother," said the older boy; "we'll be all right. We will come home often to see you."
We watched the mother as she went down the hill, leading her horse and the colt, until she disappeared at a turn on the bottom.
"Well, Brush, here's a job for you and Frank," said the superintendent. "Take these boys to the dormitory and give them a good wash, then bring them to the store-room, and I will see if I can fit them each with a suit of clothes."
We did as we were told, and while the superintendent was busy fitting the boys, Brush and I went into a large room and selected a bedstead for them. We put it together alongside of our bed, and began to cord it.
"Brush, why do the Omahas call the missionaries 'White-chests'?" I asked, as I pressed the cord from the foot to the head of the bed to tighten it.
"It's because the men wear stiff white shirts, and they show on their chests, that's why," he answered, throwing the mattress on the bed.
Brush and I soon became much attached to Lester and Warren, as the new-comers were named, and we lost no time in helping them along in their English. By our assistance and persistent use of the language with them, the two boys made rapid progress, and it was not long before they were chattering in broken English, like the rest of us.