Chapter XIII The Secret of the Big Seven
The small boys had been marched to bed at eight o'clock. We, the Middle Five, who, for the first time, were permitted to stay up until ten,—a privilege hitherto enjoyed only by the Big Seven,—sat around the fire listening to Indian tales told by Edwin in his animated way. There was no light in the room save that which came through the open door of the stove, in front of which the story-teller had taken his place. The flickering fire cast a ruddy light upon the fine features of the boy, and the shadows on the wall danced to the caprice of the restless flames. We laughed heartily at the mishaps of Ish-te'-ne-ke, a comical character that figures in the folk-tales of the Omahas, as they were vividly portrayed in language and gesture.
Outside the wind was moaning and sighing through the trees around the house, at times rattling the windows vigorously, as though threatening to rush in upon us; and from the neighborhood of the graveyard came the mournful sounds of the hooting owl.
In the back part of the school-room, where it was dark, sat the Big Seven, carrying on an earnest conversation in low tones, as though to exclude us from their confidence.
The leader of this "gang" was a youth of peculiar appearance and manner. He was tall and muscular, with prominent nose and cheek-bones. Although he took an active part in the amusements and sports of the school, often inaugurating them himself, we never knew him to change the expression of his face, either in pain, anger, or mirth. We five often had talks about the peculiarities of this singular youth. Brush said that "Aleck" (the boys addressed him by this name, for he was called after the Macedonian conqueror) was turned outside in, that all his laugh, anger, and sorrow were inside and couldn't be seen. Edwin declared that the boy had ceased laughing since the killing of his father by the Sioux, and that he was reserving his laugh for the time when he should take revenge.
The mysterious consultation in the back part of the school-room came to an end, and one by one the Big Seven approached the stove and mingled with us. Aleck, who was the last, did not sit down in the space left for him, but drew up a desk and perched on one end of it, resting his feet on the bench where he should have sat. He leaned over, supporting his body with his elbow on his knee, and shaded his eyes with his hand. We could feel that for some purpose he was looking into the faces of the Middle Five.
As the Seven took their places among us, Edwin brought his story to a close, and we fell into silence. After a few moments Aleck cleared his throat, and, without change of attitude, said in the Omaha language, fearlessly breaking one of the rules of the school:
"Boys, to you of the Five I speak. There is not a 'gang' in the school that has not its secrets. You of the Five have yours, no doubt; we of the Seven, who now sit with you, have ours. We respect yours, and we have every confidence that you respect ours. Ordinarily we do not interfere with each other's affairs; but now that you have the same privilege that we have had, and we are thrown together, we of the Seven think that your 'gang' should unite with ours in a secret that up to this time has been ours alone, and share in its pleasures. Are you willing to join in it?"
"Yes," answered Brush, knowing as the rest of us did, what this secret was; "we are willing."
"You of the Seven, are you satisfied with the answer?"