IV--THE LEATHERSKIN TRIBE
"Daddy!" said the elder boy. "Have you seen wild Indians?"
"Yes, boy."
"Have you ever scalped one?"
"Good gracious, no."
"Has one ever scalped you?" asked Dimples.
"Silly!" said Laddie. "If Daddy had been scalped he wouldn't have allthat hair on his head--unless perhaps it grew again!"
"He has none hair on the very top," said Dimples, hovering over the lowchair in which Daddy was sitting.
"They didn't scalp you, did they, Daddy?" asked Laddie, with someanxiety.
"I expect Nature will scalp me some of these days."
Both boys were keenly interested. Nature presented itself as some rivalchief.
"When?" asked Dimples, eagerly, with the evident intention of beingpresent.
Daddy passed his fingers ruefully through his thinning locks. "Prettysoon, I expect," said he.
"Oo!" said the three children. Laddie was resentful and defiant, but thetwo younger ones were obviously delighted.
"But I say, Daddy, you said we should have an Indian game after tea. Yousaid it when you wanted us to be so quiet after breakfast. You promised,you know."
It doesn't do to break a promise to children. Daddy rose somewhatwearily from his comfortable chair and put his pipe on the mantelpiece.First he held a conference in secret with Uncle Pat, the most ingeniousof playmates. Then he returned to the children. "Collect the tribe,"said he. "There is a Council in a quarter of an hour in the big room.Put on your Indian dresses and arm yourselves. The great Chief will bethere!"
Sure enough when he entered the big room a quarter of an hour later thetribe of the Leatherskins had assembled. There were four of them, forlittle rosy Cousin John from next door always came in for an Indian game.They had all Indian dresses with high feathers and wooden clubs ortomahawks. Daddy was in his usual untidy tweeds, but carried a rifle. Hewas very serious when he entered the room, for one should be very seriousin a real good Indian game. Then he raised his rifle slowly over hishead in greeting and the four childish voices rang out in the war-cry. Itwas a prolonged wolfish howl which Dimples had been known to offer toteach elderly ladies in hotel corridors. "You can't be in our tribewithout it, you know. There is none body about. Now just try once ifyou can do it." At this moment there are half-a-dozen elderly peoplewandering about England who have been made children once more by Laddieand Dimples.
"Hail to the tribe!" cried Daddy.
"Hail, Chief!" answered the voices.
"Red Buffalo!"
"Here!" cried Laddie.
"Black Bear!"
"Here!" cried Dimples.
"White Butterfly!"
"Go on, you silly squaw!" growled Dimples.
"Here," said Baby.
"Prairie Wolf!"
"Here," said little four-year-old John.
"The muster is complete. Make a circle round the camp-fire and we shalldrink the firewater of the Palefaces and smoke the pipe of peace."
That was a fearsome joy. The fire-water was ginger-ale drunk out of thebottle, which was gravely passed from hand to hand. At no other time hadthey ever drunk like that, and it made an occasion of it which wasincreased by the owlish gravity of Daddy. Then he lit his pipe and itwas passed also from one tiny hand to another, Laddie taking a heartysuck at it, which set him coughing, while Baby only touched the end ofthe amber with her little pink lips. There was dead silence until it hadgone round and returned to its owner.
"Warriors of the Leatherskins, why have we come here?" asked Daddy,fingering his rifle.
"Humpty Dumpty," said little John, and the children all began to laugh,but the portentous gravity of Daddy brought them back to the warriormood.
"The Prairie Wolf has spoken truly," said Daddy. "A wicked Palefacecalled Humpty Dumpty has taken the prairies which once belonged to theLeatherskins and is now camped upon them and hunting our buffaloes. Whatshall be his fate? Let each warrior speak in turn."
"Tell him he has jolly well got to clear out," said Laddie.
"That's not Indian talk," cried Dimples, with all his soul in the game."Kill him, great Chief--him and his squaw, too." The two youngerwarriors merely laughed and little John repeated "Humpty Dumpty!"
"Quite right! Remember the villain's name!" said Daddy. "Now, then, thewhole tribe follows me on the war-trail and we shall teach this Palefaceto shoot our buffaloes."
"Look here, we don't want squaws," cried Dimples, as Baby toddled at therear of the procession. "You stay in the wigwam and cook."
A piteous cry greeted the suggestion.
"The White Butterfly will come with us and bind up the wounds," saidDaddy.
"The squaws are jolly good as torturers," remarked Laddie.
"Really, Daddy, this strikes me as a most immoral game," said the Lady,who had been a sympathetic spectator from a corner, doubtful of theginger-ale, horrified at the pipe, and delighted at the completeabsorption of the children.
"Rather!" said the great Chief, with a sad relapse into the normal. "Isuppose that is why they love it so. Now, then, warriors, we go forth onthe war-trail. One whoop all together before we start. Capital! Followme, now, one behind the other. Not a sound! If one gets separated fromthe others let him give the cry of a night owl and the others will answerwith the squeak of the prairie lizard."
"What sort of a squeak, please?"
"Oh, any old squeak will do. You don't walk. Indians trot on the war-path. If you see any man hiding in a bush kill him at once, but don'tstop to scalp him--"
"Really, dear!" from the corner.
"The great Queen would rather that you scalp him. Now, then! All ready!Start!"
Away went the line of figures, Daddy stooping with his rifle at thetrail, Laddie and Dimples armed with axes and toy pistols, as tense andserious as any Redskins could be. The other two rather moreirresponsible but very much absorbed all the same. The little line ofabsurd figures wound in and out of the furniture, and out on to the lawn,and round the laurel bushes, and into the yard, and back to the clump oftrees. There Daddy stopped and held up his hand with a face that frozethe children.
"Are all here?" he asked.
"Yes, yes."
"Hush, warriors! No sound. There is an enemy scout in the bushes ahead.Stay with me, you two. You, Red Buffalo, and you, Black Bear, crawlforward and settle him. See that he makes no sound. What you do must bequick and sudden. When all is clear give the cry of the wood-pigeon, andwe will join you."
The two warriors crawled off in most desperate earnest. Daddy leaned onhis gun and winked at the Lady, who still hovered fearfully in thebackground like a dear hen whose chickens were doing wonderful andunaccountable things. The two younger Indians slapped each other andgiggled. Presently there came the "coo" of a wood-pigeon from in front.Daddy and the tribe moved forward to where the advance guard were waitingin the bushes.
"Great Chief, we could find no scout," said Laddie.
"There was none person to kill," added Dimples.
The Chief was not surprised, since the scout had been entirely of his owninvention. It would not do to admit it, however.
"Have you found his trail?" he asked.
"No, Chief."
"Let me look." Daddy hunted about with a look of preternatural sagacityabout him. "Before the snows fell a man passed here with a red head,grey clothes, and a squint in his left eye. His trail shows that hisbrother has a grocer's shop and his wife smokes cigarettes on the sly."
"Oh, Daddy, how could you read all that?"
"It's easy enough, my son, when you get the knack of it. But look here,we are Indians on the war-trail, and don't you forget it if you valueyour scalp! Aha, here is Humpty Dumpty's trail!"
Uncle Pat had laid down a paper trail from this point, as Daddy wellknew; so now the children were off like a little pack of eager harriers,following in and out among the bushes. Presently they had a rest.
"Great Chief, why
does a wicked Paleface leave paper wherever he goes?"
Daddy made a great effort.
"He tears up the wicked letters he has written. Then he writes otherseven wickeder and tears them up in turn. You can see for yourself thathe leaves them wherever he goes. Now, warriors, come along!"
Uncle Pat had dodged all over the limited garden, and the tribe followedhis trail. Finally they stopped at a gap in the hedge which leads intothe field. There was a little wooden hut in the field, where Daddy usedto go and put up a printed cardboard: "WORKING." He found it a very gooddodge when he wanted a quiet smoke and a nap. Usually there was nothingelse in the field, but this time the Chief pushed the whole tribehurriedly behind the hedge, and whispered to them to look carefully outbetween the branches.
In the middle of the field a tripod of sticks supported a kettle. Ateach side of it was a hunched-up figure in a coloured blanket. Uncle Pathad done his work skilfully and well.
"You must get them before they can reach their rifles," said the Chief."What about their horses? Black Bear, move down the hedge and bring backword about their horses. If you see none give three whistles."
The whistles were soon heard, and the warrior returned.
"If the horses had been there, what would you have done?"
"Scalped them!" said Dimples.
"Silly ass!" said Laddie. "Who ever heard of a horse's scalp? You wouldstampede them."
"Of course," said the Chief. "If ever you see a horse grazing, you crawlup to it, spring on its back and then gallop away with your head lookingunder its neck and only your foot to be seen. Don't you forget it. Butwe must scupper these rascals on our hunting-grounds."
"Shall we crawl up to them?"
"Yes, crawl up. Then when I give a whoop rush them. Take them alive. Iwish to have a word with them first. Carry them into the hut. Go!"
Away went the eager little figures, the chubby babes and the two lithe,active boys. Daddy stood behind the bush watching them. They kept aline and tip-toed along to the camp of the strangers. Then on theChief's signal they burst into a cry and rushed wildly with wavingweapons into the camp of the Palefaces. A moment later the two pillow-made trappers were being dragged off into the hut by the whoopingwarriors. They were up-ended in one corner when the Chief entered, andthe victorious Indians were dancing about in front of them.
"Anybody wounded?" asked the Chief.
"No, no."
"Have you tied their hands?"
With perfect gravity Red Buffalo made movements behind each of thepillows.
"They are tied, great Chief."
"What shall we do with them?"
"Cut off their heads!" shrieked Dimples, who was always the mostbloodthirsty of the tribe, though in private life he had been known toweep bitterly over a squashed caterpillar.
"The proper thing is to tie them to a stake," said Laddie.
"What do you mean by killing our buffaloes?" asked Daddy, severely.
The prisoners preserved a sulky silence.
"Shall I shoot the green one?" asked Dimples, presenting his woodenpistol.
"Wait a bit!" said the Chief. "We had best keep one as a hostage andsend the other back to say that unless the Chief of the Palefaces pays aransom within three days--"
But at that moment, as a great romancer used to say, a strange thinghappened. There was the sound of a turning key and the whole tribe ofthe Leatherskins was locked into the hut. A moment later a dreadful faceappeared at the window, a face daubed with mud and overhung with grass,which drooped down from under a soft cap. The weird creature danced intriumph, and then stooped to set a light to some paper and shavings nearthe window.
"Heavens!" cried the Chief. "It is Yellow Snake, the ferocious Chief ofthe Bottlenoses!"
Flame and smoke were rising outside. It was excellently done andperfectly safe, but too much for the younger warriors. The key turned,the door opened, and two tearful babes were in the arms of the kneelingLady. Red Buffalo and Black Bear were of sterner stuff.
"I'm not frightened, Daddy," said Laddie, though he looked a little pale.
"Nor me," cried Dimples, hurrying to get out of the hut.
"We'll lock the prisoners up with no food and have a council of war uponthem in the morning," said the Chief. "Perhaps we've done enoughto-day."
"I rather think you have," said the Lady, as she soothed the poor littlesobbing figures.
"That's the worst of having kids to play," said Dimples. "Fancy having asquaw in a war-party!"
"Never mind, we've had a jolly good Indian game," said Laddie, as thesound of a distant bell called them all to the nursery tea.
_Printed by Hazell_, _Watson & Viney_, _Ld._, _London and Aylesbury_,_England_.
Footnotes:
{1} The reader is referred to the Preface in connection with thisstory.--A. C. D.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends