d American traders in the Northwest
learned to talk Chinook, and to teach Chinook was one of the purposes of
the school.

"Can you tell me what that is?" asked Mr. Mann, pointing to the letter A
in the primer.

"Fox-trap."

"No; that is the letter A."

"How do you know?"

Our digger of Greek roots from Cambridge was puzzled. He could not repeat
the story of Cadmus to this druid of the forest or make a learned talk on
arbitrary signs. He answered happily, however, "Wise men said so."

"Me understand."

"That is the letter B."

"Yes, aha! Boston tilicum, you let her be. Old woman no good; me punish
her. Knock-sheet--stick her" (club her).

Mr. Mann saw at once the strange turn that the young Indian's mind had
taken. He was puzzled again.

"No, Benjamin; I will teach you what to do."

"Teach me how to club her? You are good! Boston tilicum, we will be
brothers--you and I. She wah-wah, but she is no good."

"That is C."

"Aha! _She_ heap wah-wah, but _she_ no good."

"Now, that is A, B, and that is C. Try to remember them, and I will come
soon and talk with you again."

"You wah-wah?"

"Yes," said Mr. Mann, doubtful of the Indian's thought.

"She wah-wah?"

"Yes."

"You heap wah-wah. You good. She heap wah-wah. She no good. Potlatch come;
dance. She wah-wah no more. I wah-wah."

Mr. Mann was pained to see the revengeful trend of the Indian's thought.
The hints of the evil intention of the Potlatch troubled him, but his
faith in the old chief and the influence of his own integrity did not
falter.

Gretchen was the most advanced scholar in the school. Her real mother had
been an accomplished woman, and had taken great pains with her education.
She was well instructed in the English branches, and had read five books
of Virgil in Latin. Her reading had not been extensive, but it had
embraced some of the best books in the English language. Her musical
education had been received from a German uncle, who had been instructed
by Herr Wieck, the father of Clara Schumann. He had been a great lover of
Schumann's dreamy and spiritual music, and had taught her the young
composer's pieces for children, and among them Romance and the Traumerei.
He had taught her to play the two tone poems together in changing keys,
beginning with the Traumerei and returning again to its beautiful and
haunting strains. Gretchen interpreted these poems with all the color of
true feeling, and under her bow they became enchantmen