The widespread hair affected him
curiously. He touched it daintily, let it fall, and rose. "To pull at a
girl's hair! I couldn't do it."
Leila laughed. "A good pull, that's how to scalp."
"I couldn't," said John.
"Well, you are a queer sort of Indian!" She was less merciful, but in the
end, to her surprise, he had three scalps. "Uncle Jim will laugh when I
tell him," she said. "Shall we go home?"
"No, I want to see Uncle Jim's big tree."
"Oh! he's only Uncle Jim to me. Aunt don't like it. He will tell you some
day to call him Uncle Jim. He says I got that as brevet rank the day my
mare refused the barnyard fence and pitched me off. I just got on again
and made her take it! That's why he's Uncle Jim."
John became thoughtful about that brevet privilege of a remote future. He
had, however, persistent ways. "I want to see the big pine, Leila."
"Oh! come on then. It's a long way. We must cut across." He followed her
remorselessly swift feet through the leafless bushes and drifts until
they came upon a giant pine in a wide space cleared to give the veteran
royal solitude. "That's him," cried Leila, and carelessly cast herself
down on the snow.
The boy stood still in wonder. Something about the tree disturbed him
emotionally. With hands clasped behind his back, he stared up at its
towering heights.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41