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.
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