"Do what, Benjamin?"
"Make her suffer—punish."
"Who?"
"I know a bad Indian who will. He say so."
"You must not let him. You are son of a chief."
"I will try. I no wah-wah now."
At noon Benjamin was light-hearted, and led the sports and games. He was very strong, and one of his lively feats was to let three or four children climb upon his back and run away with them until they tumbled off. He seemed perfectly happy when he was making the others happy, and nothing so delighted him as to be commended. He longed to be popular, not from any selfish reason, but because to be liked by others was his atmosphere of contentment. He was kindly above most Indians, a trait for which his father was famous. He was even kindly above many of the white people.
The next morning he came to school in good humor, and a curious incident occurred soon after the school began. A little black bear ventured down the trail toward the open door, stopping at times and lifting up its head curiously and cautiously. It at last ventured up to the door, put its fore feet on the door-sill, and looked into the room.
"Kill it!" cried one of the boys, a recent emigrant, in the alarm. "Kill it!"
"What harm it do?" said the Indian boy. "Me drive it away."