"Tell that story! tell that story!" cried the boys in chorus.
"But you don't listen; you go to sleep, or you ask fool questions and stop me."
"We won't stop you; we're going to lie awake."
"All right. I'll tell you that story. Say 'ong!' pretty soon, then I'll know you're awake."
We all snuggled down, then in chorus cried, "Ong!" and Edwin began:
"'Way long time ago, four brothers lived on earth. Good hunters, they shoot straight, kill deer, buffalo, elk, and all kinds of animals. They got plenty of meat and skins. One night, the youngest man came home very lame; his foot was all swelled up; he had to use his bow for a cane, and he was groaning, groaning all the time. He lay down and was real sick, one, two, three days. The other men, they went hunting. When they were gone, the youngest man got up, took his knife, cut open his toe, and took out a big thorn, a great big—"
Whack! whack! whack! Quick as a flash the boys put their feet against the foot-board and pulled the bedclothes taut so that the rest of the blows fell harmless upon us. We had been surprised by Gray-beard. Edwin, in his earnestness, and in his belief that a foreign language can be better understood when spoken loudly, had been shouting his story in a voice that reached Gray-beard and woke him up. After warning us against loud talking, the old man went downstairs as stealthily as he had come.
"Well, boys," said Brush, "that came like a cyclone, didn't it?"
We all agreed that it did.