"Very much me want um," continued Wampum, in a beseeching tone. "No tell what you call um. E'enamost water, no quite water; e'enamost punkin, no quite punkin."
"Poh! you mean watermelon," laughed Horace: "should think you'd remember that as easy as pumpkin."
"Very much me want um," repeated Wampum, delighted at being understood, "me like um."
"Well," replied Horace, "they aren't mine."
"O, yes. Ugh! you've got 'em. Melon-water good! Me have melon-waters, me give you moc-suns."
"I'll ask my grandpa, Wampum."
Hereupon the crafty little Indian shook his head.
"You ask ole man, me no give you moc-suns! Me no want een—me want bimp—bumpin—jiggets."
Horace's stout little heart wavered for a moment. He fancied moccasins very much. In his mind's eye he saw a pair shining with all the colors of the rainbow, and as Wampum had said of the melons, "very much he wanted them." How handsome they'd be with his Zouave suit!
But the wavering did not last long. He remembered the blue book which his mother was to see next week; for then the month would be out.