In this case Horace acted very properly. He had no right to cut the trees, or allow any one else to cut them, without leave. To his great delight, his grandfather said he did not care if they clipped off a few branches where they would not show much.
When Horace got back and reported the words of his grandfather, Wampum did not even smile, but shot a glance at him as keen as an arrow.
"Me no hurt trees," said he, gravely; and he did not: he only cut off a few limbs from each one, leaving the trees as handsome as ever.
"Bully for you!" cried Horace, forgetting the blue book.
"He's as spry as a squirrel," said Grasshopper, in admiration; "how many boughs has he got? One, two, three."
"Me say 'em quickest," cried little Wampum. "Een, teen, teddery, peddery, bimp, satter, latter, doe, dommy, dick."
"That's ten," put in Horace, who was keeping 'count.
"Een-dick," continued the little Indian, "teen-dick, teddery-dick, peddery-dick, bumpin, een-bumpin, teen-bumpin, teddery-bumpin, peddery-bumpin, jiggets."
"Hollo!" cried Grasshopper; "that's twenty; jiggets is twenty;" and he rolled over on the ground, laughing as if he had made a great discovery.
Little by little they made Wampum tell how he lived at home, what sort of boys he played with, and what they had to eat. The young Indian assured them that at Oldtown "he lived in a house good as white folks; he ate moose-meat, ate sheep-meat, ate cow-meat."