He hated it, but he had to wear it. Then his
green blanket disappeared; a warm, heavy overcoat in its place. Then his
fringed buckskin "chaps" went; in their place a pair of dreadful grey
cloth trousers. Little Wolf-Willow made no comment, but he kept his eyes
and ears open, and mastered a few important words of English, which,
however, he kept to himself--as yet. And then, one day, when he had
worn these hated clothes for a whole month, the superintendent who had
brought him away from his father's tepee sent for him to come to his
little office. The boy went. The superintendent was so kind and so
gentle, and his smile was so true, that the boy had grown somewhat
attached to him, so, without fear of anything in the world, the little
Cree scholar slipped noiselessly into the room.
"Ah, Little Wolf-Willow," said the superintendent, kindly, "I notice
that you are beginning to understand a little English already." The boy
smiled, and nodded slightly. "You are very quick and smart, my boy,
quick as a lynx, smart as a fox. Now tell me, are you happy here? Do you
like the school?" continued Mr.
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