Billy, regardless of consequences, had pinned his aunt’s newest grey blanket around him and was viewing, with satisfied admiration, its long length trailing on the-grass behind him; Lina had her mother’s treasured Navajo blanket draped around her graceful little figure; Frances, after pulling the covers off of several beds and finding nothing to suit her fanciful taste, had snatched a gorgeous silk afghan from the leather couch in the library.  It was an expensive affair of intricate pattern, delicate stitches; and beautiful embroidery with a purple velvet border and a yellow satin lining.  She had dragged one corner of it through the mud puddle and torn a big rent in another place.

Jimmy was glorious in a bright red blanket, carrying his little bow and arrow.

“I’m going to be the Injun chief,” he boasted.

“I’m going to be a Injun chief, too,” parroted Frances.

“Chief, nothing!” he sneered, “you all time trying to be a Injun chief.  You ’bout the pompousest little girl they is.  You can’t be a chief nohow; you got to be a squash, Injun ladies ‘r’ name’ squashes; me an’ Billy’s the chiefs.  I’m name’ old Setting Bull, hi’self.”

“You can’t be named `Bull,’ Jimmy,” reproved Lina, “it isn’t genteel to say `bull’ before people.”

“Yes, I am too,” he contended.  “Setting Bull’s the biggest chief they is and I’m going to be name’ him.”

“Well, I am not going to play then,” said Lina primly, “my mother wants me to be genteel, and `bull’ is not genteel.”

“I tell you what, Jimmy,” proposed Frances, “you be name’ `Setting Cow.  ‘Cow’ is genteel ’cause folks milk ’em.”

“Naw, I ain’t going to be name’ no cow, neither,” retorted the little Indian, “you all time trying to ’suade somebody to be name’ `Setting Cow’.”

“He can’t be name’ a cow,”—­Billy now entered into the discussion —­“‘cause he ain’t no girl.  Why don’ you be name’ ‘Settin’ Steer’?  Is `steer’ genteel, Lina?” he anxiously inquired.

“Yes, he can be named `Sitting Steer’,” she granted.  Jimmy agreeing to the compromise, peace was once more restored.

“Frances and Lina got to be the squashes,” he began.

“It isn’t `squashes,’ it is `squaws,"’ corrected Lina.

“Yes, ’tis squashes too,” persisted Jimmy, “’cause it’s in the Bible and Miss Cecilia ’splained it to me and she’s ’bout the high-steppingest ’splainer they is.  Me and Billy is the chiefs,” he shouted, capering around, “and you and Frances is the squashes and got to have papooses strop’ to your back.”

“Bennie Dick can be a papoose,” suggested Billy.

“I’m not going to be a Injun squash if I got to have a nigger papoose strapped to my back!” cried an indignant Frances.  “You can strap him to your own back, Billy.”

“But I ain’t no squash,” objected that little Indian.

“We can have our dolls for papooses,” said Lina, going to the swing where the dolls had been left.  Billy pulled a piece of string from his pocket and the babies were safely strapped to their mothers’ backs.  With stately tread, headed by Sitting Steer, the children marched back and forth across the lawn in Indian file.