"What are they saying?" asked Gray-beard, looking toward the windows.
"They're calling us names," answered Warren, who felt sore at being compared to an owl.
Gray-beard went to the door; as he opened it, the intruders ran swiftly to the fence, and sat astride of the top board.
"Get away from here!" said Gray-beard, in a loud voice. "Go home!"
"How do do! Goo-by!" shouted back some of the little rascals with boisterous jeers.
"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.